Chapter Two
“Taxi! Taxi! TAXI!” Mom frantically yells as we stand on the sidewalk outside JFK. Her screams are very loud and shrill and people stare at us as they walk by, but her voice still gets totally drowned out by the sound of New York City traffic.
“I wish we could just rent a car,” Melanie mutters to me. The two of us are sitting on our suitcases, having gotten tired of waiting about twenty minutes ago. Dad is standing a few yards up the street, also trying to hail a taxi. He’s having about as much success as Mom.
“We wouldn’t have been able to return it,” I reply, staring at the road. Five taxis drive right on by without so much as a second glance at either of my parents.
“I know that. I’m just commenting on how much easier it would have been to get out of the airport,” Melanie says.
The flight from Seattle to New York was pretty uneventful. I slept through most of it, so I didn’t have even a chance to get bored. Mom still managed to embarrass me, though, by telling the flight attendant (in a loud voice that carried through the entire plane) that I have very delicate health. I still haven’t figured out why she felt the need to tell the flight attendant that, since it had absolutely nothing to do with anything. All the passengers in the plane turned to stare at me, some eyes pitying, others plainly curious about what kind of health problems a teenager could have. I sank into my chair until my head was about level with my knees, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear.
Beside me, Melanie pulls her iPod out of her pocket and plugs her ear buds in her ears. Almost instantly, I hear a loud, thudding drumbeat coming from her ear buds. She starts swaying in time with the beat.
“Geez, Melanie, is your music loud enough?” I ask her.
“Huh?” Melanie stops swaying for a second and pops one of the ear buds out.
“You just proved my point,” I say. “Turn your music down. You’re destroying your hearing.”
“Chill, Leila. My hearing is fine,” Melanie replies unconcernedly. She puts the ear bud back in and starts dancing again.
“What are you listening to, anyway?”
Melanie rolls her eyes like I’ve just asked the dumbest question on the face of the planet.
“One Direction, duh!” she replies loudly.
“Who?” I ask. I’ve never heard of that band before, but I’m not really surprised. Melanie usually obsesses over a band for a week or two and then moves on to a different one. One Direction must just be her latest obsession.
“One Direction! Haven’t you heard of them? They’re from the UK and their music is amazing. I swear, they have the voices of angels. And they’re, like, the best-looking guys on the face of the planet.”
“So basically, you’re telling me they’re perfect,” I say, grinning. If I had a nickel for every time Melanie called some boy the best-looking guy on the face of the planet, I would be a very, very rich girl
“Oh yes,” says Melanie happily, still swaying to the music.
“TAXI! Oh, for heaven’s sake!” yells Mom in frustration as yet another bright yellow cab passes right by her.
“Mom, let me try,” says Melanie.
Ear buds still in her ears, she jumps up from her suitcase and moves closer to the curb. As a taxi comes barreling down the road, she waves her hand daintily and smiles, like she’s a contestant on Miss America or something.
