Your Picture On My Phone (The Scar Series - Book One)

13 - Flight

We sat next to each other on that metallic bench with black seats. Behind us: the decaying storm. And in front of us: a big empty space waiting for something fun to happen. Conor took his head off my shoulder.

"This is not the end, Ash."

He jumped up and gaped at me like a boy scout on the last day of summer camp, ready to embark on one final adventure.

"Come on, get up. We have some time to seize," he exclaimed, and a grin as large as California appeared on Conor's face.

A new sense of life filled the airport as the ceiling lights lit up the hallways again. We watched the runway behind the windows get busy as we packed our stuff. Several trucks scraped away tons of snow to bring everything back to functionality.

Conor grabbed my hand, pulling me behind him as we ran to god knows where. We walked past people getting ready to board their planes soon, hopefully. The airport staff had to handle screaming customers at the service desk again. And I shook my head as I realized that only yesterday, I was one of those wailing humans. It's strange how far away that seems now.

As more and more shops opened, the smell of breakfast filled my nostrils.

"Step One: Coffee," said Conor and pulled me into Starbucks.

A middle-aged woman with glasses that were almost bigger than her forehead worked behind the bar and smiled at us as if she had had a perfect night's sleep.

"Good morning. How are you today?"

Conor glanced at me, wary after I snapped at that waiter in the diner yesterday.

"We are doing well, and you?" I said and felt the uncomfortable urge to smile back at her.

Look at me, engaging in small talk as if it was no big deal.

Conor mouthed a silent "Wow" as if he was really surprised by me being so casual about talking to a stranger.

He ordered a Peppermint Frappuccino Mocha, and I settled for an Americano without anything. As soon as the barista turned around, Conor leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Who would have thought you could be kind to the staff?" producing a ticklish feeling that made me purposely bite my lip to suppress it.

After he paid, we walked to the end of the bar, where the drinks were being served, and sat down on two wooden bar stools.

"So, if this is step one, what is step two?" I asked, worrying about whatever surprise he might have planned now.

"You will see, Ash. It's a quality surprise. I promise." He smiled at me, and after everything, I had good reasons to trust him on this.

When the barista yelled our names, Conor sprinted over, took both cups, and handed me mine. He grabbed my hand, dragging me behind him again as if he didn't want to lose another second.

I would have thought that many people would look strange at two teenage guys running for ten minutes through an airport holding hands like newlyweds. But to my surprise, nobody cared.

We reached a small rounded staircase with a turnstile in front of the first step. A sign announced that up the tower was a lookout with "the most spectacular view in the area."

I raised my eyebrows at Conor. "This is your big surprise?"

"I saw it yesterday on the map but thought it would be useless as we couldn't see far anyway. But now it should make sense."

Next to the turnstile was a board telling us to pay three dollars per person. I'm not too fond of spending money on stuff like this, but if Conor wants to do it, I guess I want to do it too.