Draft 1 of Lyras odyssey/worlds apart/lost V2/IDFK

Chaper 1 (Lyras POV)

I stand in the doorway of my teeny tiny apartment with a single suitcase clutched in my hand. I watch my dad shakily tie his shoes. His fingers clumsily grip the nylon laces and attempt to tie them. His brain injury makes it difficult to do things in the same way he used to but he's making progress. I really would help him but ever since he got out of the hospital he's completely refused help in fact everytime I or anyone for that matter mentions what happens he stops talking. It's like his soul leaves his body. His eyes get all glossy and he refuses to talk about it. But this'll probably be the last time I'll have to worry about waiting a little longer for him to tie his shoes. At least for a year.
He slowly stumbles to his feet and looks at me with his tired eyes. "Got everything kid? Because I'm not flying all the way to New Zealand to bring your shit." He says with his signature raspy voice. Mom and I used to try to convince him to get into singing or voice acting. He always has one of those voices that always reminded you of someone but you could never pinpoint who it was like a distant memory decayed by the harshness of time. His voice is calming and I'm really going to miss it. I chuckle in response."Nope I think I got everything." My lips curl into a small smile. My dad reciprocates the smile. The youthful gleam in his eyes contrasts the years of scars and wrinkles his face has collected from decades of life. Get in the car bug we're going to miss your flight. I open the door and saunter down the dingy yellow halls my mind almost shuts off because I've done this route thousands of times but I remind myself to take in everything I can to study every missing chip of paint all of the numbers on the doors to remember the dingy fluorescent yellow overhead lighting that lined the roofs of the narrow hallways. I need to take in everything I won't be back here for a whole year.
Eventually we get to the corridor with the elevator and the room that leads to the stairs. "Wanna race?" My dad suggests with a mischievous grin painted across his face. Without hesitation I oblige. His smile grows and I pass him my suitcase. He steps in the elevator and sticks his tongue out at me as the big metal doors slowly close. I'm fairly certain I will win because the elevator in our building is insanely slow but I know this little game of ours makes him happy so who am I to refuse. I rush down the stairs as the doors close. I almost trip a couple times but finally I make it to the corridor on the first floor. I am hastily attempting to catch my breath when the doors of the elevator open. My dad looks flabbergasted. I know this is a joke as we do this every single day.
"Come on dad are you really that surprised? You know I beat you every time."
"It surprises me everytime little bug." He laughs.
"Alright hurry up, we gotta catch the train."
I follow my dads lead and walk out of the apartment building.The crisp autumn air geets my nostrils. The cold instantly wrapped around me and seeped through my thin green hoodie. I inhale deep. Something about the chilly morning air in the beginning of September made me feel nostalgic. It reminds me of the first day of school. You can feel summer coming to an end but you're excited for all of the new possibilities and the opportunities that may arise. Though this isn't like every other year. This truly will be a fresh start. This is the first September without mom. As well as the first time leaving the country.
Before I know it I'm at the train station. The so-called train station is more like a bus stop. A couple glass shelters posters with various advertisements plastered to them. A curved metal roof on each of them. Some wooden benches that have been slowly been worn down by generations of people taking the train. As well as some colourful trash that litters the cracks in the concrete. I plunk myself down on one of the benches.
"Lyra! Look, the pigeons are fighting over a cracker!" He exclaims.
I've always loved pigeons. Me and mom used to feed them back when I was a little kid. It's bittersweet seeing them again. It reminds me of what I'm trying to run away from but at the same time it feels like a sign. I've never really been much of the religious type but since moms passing.. well I don't know? I think it makes me feel a little better to try and imagine something other than just rotting in the ground when you're dead. I'm not exactly sure where I stand but little things remind me of her and I like to think that she's still here even if she's not physically in my life anymore.
"Aww that's adorable!" A smile appears on my face despite the pang of heartache I feel.
"I think I have a bag of little mini crackers I packed for the plane I could spare a few." I say. "Good idea! Just like how you and your mother used to do!"
I feel my throat tighten and tears try and push their way out of my eyes. I attempt to swallow the lump that's formed in my throat. I don't want this to be a sad moment! This is the last I'll be able to see my dad in a year. I'm not going to cry in front of him. Not now! Not ever! Dammit! I feel my warm salty tears contrast the frosty air outside. Dammit. I quickly rub my eyes to conceal the fact that I was crying. One damn comment causes me to cry. Ugh what the hell is wrong with me!
As I finish wiping my eyes the train approaches. The train is loud and there's a familiar hissing sound of the brakes. "Crap out of time no snacks today birdies sorry." I say trying my absolute hardest to make my voice sound normal.
"Come on kid." My dad says.
I follow my dad off the train platform and onto the train and I plop myself onto a plastic grey seat. The train is crowded, which isn't uncommon but still a bit surprising considering the hour. I look around at the people. They look like zombies. Each one of them having the same lifeless look on their faces. Even the kids. Theres an eerie silence that fills the air. I wonder why nobody talks on trains. It would be nice to have the uncanny silence replaced with something. Even if that something is the chatter of strangers. The silence combined with the bright white neon lights and the speckled grey floor reminds me more of a hospital waiting room than a form of transportation. I stare down at my shoes. Dirty old yellow converse littered with scorch marks. I probably need to get new shoes. I've been wearing these since eighth grade. These shoes have definitely seen better days. My dad places his hand on my shoulder and gives a reassuring quick two squeezes. I turn my head to look at him. He has the same dopey grin painted across his face. I reciprocate the grin. I lock my gaze on a poster. Google says it will take about an hour to get to Calgary international airport so I may as well rest. I give into the heaviness I feel in my eyelids. I feel myself sink into the uncomfortable plastic chair.
It feels like I have just shut my eyes when- "Ding! We are now stopping at the mc. knight -westwinds station. If this is your stop please make your way off the train and we will close the doors and continue moving in about five minutes." 
𝕬 𝖗ℴ𝖇ℴ𝖙 𝖗ℯ𝖕ℯ𝖆𝓉𝖘 𝖙𝒽𝖊 𝖒ℯ𝖘𝓈𝖆ℊ𝖊 𝖎𝓃 ℱ𝖗ℯ𝖓𝒸𝖍 .
I stumble to my feet and follow my dad off the train.
"So the taxi should be here in about five minutes." My dad says as I follow him to a little wooden outdoor bench.
"Awesome." I say in response.
I feel the breeze slice through my hoodie. I huddle closer to my dad
.I watch the first remenints of the morning sun beckon through the horizon. The sky is filled with a rich coral colour. Autumn is my favourite time of year. I love how the beautiful red and golden sun rays paint the sky and mix in with the deep blues of the night sky creating a spectacular purple. It reminds me of a painting.
My dad leans over and kisses the top of my head. "You know I'm gonna miss you kid."
"I'm gonna miss you too dad." My voice is shaky from the cold.
I try to think of something else to fill the awkward silence but I'm unable too. I decide that maybe words aren't necessary. I soak up every last bit of the warm embrace of my fathers arm around my shoulder. I'm going to miss this. Thoughts of anticipation of going to a  new place mixed with the sorrows of the past echoe inside my mind. This is a strange feeling. To be so excited yet terrified but also the feelings of heartache. It feels bizarre for lack of a better word . 
The taxi pulls up. I open the  bright yellow door and slide myself onto one of the cold black leather seats. The air inside of the taxi is warm. It feels nice to finally be somewhere warm. The taxi driver is a middle aged Arab man with piercing brown eyes. He looks a bit intimidating. The taxi driver stares at us for a second and then greets us with a sweet smile. Shattering the idea that this man is scary. "Where du?" He says with a thick French accent.
"The airport please."My father says in a neutral voice.
"Ahh you go za vacationing?"
Well not exactly but I want to keep things simple. I'm not really in the mood to have a full on conversation right now.
"Yes."I say.
"Oh vérry exziting! Where du?" He sounds genuinely happy for me. I feel bad that I am super tired right now.
"Auckland, New Zealand." I respond
"Ah newz land my ah coouzin Libze zere."
He says. I've always been kind of a sucker for accents. His French accent is so nice.
"Aw that's so cool!"I try my hardest to reciprocate his enthusiasm. I nervously shift in my seat.
The rest of the ride goes by in a comfortable silence. I watch as the trees and huge buildings pass by in a blur. It's almost as if the mosaic of emotions and the outside world shifting outside are in sync. It's confusing and hard to understand but it's also beautiful in a way. I really hope I gain something from this.
The taxi pulls up to the entrance of the airport. "All right, zat will be twenty one eh fifty."
My dad slides his hand into his pocket and coins jingle together as he searches for something to pay the taxi driver with. My dad hands the taxi driver the fare. The taxi driver's eyes subtly light up with gratitude.
"Eh.. Sank you very much zir." 
I open the door and hear the chaos of the bustling airport. People murmuring.young  children impatiently pacing. I walk to the backside of the small car and open the trunk to retrieve my suitcase. I close the suitcase and the taxi driver sticks his hand out the window and waves before driving off. I lug my suitcase through the huge automated doors. I can't imagine doing this without those doors. It would be such a pain to try and open the doors and pull a suitcase behind me. I follow my dad through the doors. I look up at him as we're walking. He flashes me a reassuring smile. There's a little bit of sadness in his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something but nothing comes out of his mouth. I decide not to push it. I know today's already really hard for him. We walk over to a self-serve kiosk. "Alright I'll do this part for you kid and then I'm going to have to say goodbye just go straight over to the  security counter and then they'll tell you what to do. If you need anything please call me or ask one of the workers. I know you're not the best at asking for help but this isn't work risking missing your flight over."
"Okay dad." I replied.
"Seriously, if you need anything, call me."
"I'll be alright dad"
My dad continues pressing buttons on the self-serve kiosk.
Then a little slip of paper slides through a slit on the machine.
Dad passes me the slip of paper. It's dotted with bar codes.
"Thanks dad."
"No problem kid." I look at his eyes, the sadness in them slowly growing. We both know we're going to have to part ways. Suddenly he wraps his arms around me. My dad usually hates hugs; he says they make him feel claustrophobic. I hug him back.
He pulls away from the hug. His eyes are misty. "Take care of yourself kid."
"I will dad."
"I love you."
"Love you too dad."
I begin walking towards the security counter. The weight of our parting finally starts to hit me. The airport is so chaotic it's bustling with people from all walks of life; most of them look excited; they're probably looking forward to the clean white linen of hotel beds. Even with all of the chaos; this still feels like perhaps the loneliest place in the world. I can't believe this is really it the last couple hours I'll be in my hometown. The comforting embrace of the place I've called home for seventeen years. I make it to the security desk, place my suitcase on one of the little trays on the rollie conveyor belt. I don't even know why they can't call it a conveyor belt at all. There's no belt on it, it's just rolling cylinders. I kneel to the ground and try to untie my shoes as fast as I can to take them off without holding up the line. It's a little silly why they make you take off your shoes but I guess it's for safety or whatever.
I pull off my hoodie revealing my cheesy tie dye Banff t shirt. I place it into another bin with my shoes. We used to go to Banff a lot. I loved it, all the mountains and scenery and candy shops. It was only about an hour and a half away from where we lived. We haven't gone in a few years since money has been tight. I miss it. It was a night day trip. I wait in the queue. The room smells like sanitizer. Reminds me of a hospital. Soon enough it's my turn to walk through the doorway? The metal detector thingy. I'm so nervous. I know for a fact I don't have anything illegal on me but it still makes me nervous. I don't know why. I've never had to get pat down before or gotten caught with contraband before but for some reason I'm filled to the brim with anxiety. I'm sweating through my shirt and shaking. What if they pat me down because I'm actually nervous and that might somehow be suspicious. "Next!" The tsa agent shouts. I reluctantly walk through the metal detector. No beeping. Oh thank god. I go to the end of the conveyer and grab my stuff. I drag my suitcase through the long terminals and look at my boarding pass. Gate f3. Finally I get to a large open place with faded blue carpets and seats all attached together. Your typical run of the mill airport waiting room, nothing special. There are however little shops dotted along the sides. I look at the electronic screen on the wall. To my relief it reads, Flight 1202- Auckland, New Zealand scheduled departure at 6:45 am. Looks like I have about an hour before my flight. I walk over to the chairs and sit down on them. My worries get less intense, knowing that I got the hardest part of this trip over with. I can't believe I did it all by myself though! I mean i know technically next year I don't even have to get my dads permission to leave the country but this is my first ever solo flight. Finally my escape from this year's hardships. I can't help but to think of mom. She would be so excited for me. I miss her so much. Hot chocolate! That'll make me feel better! And I have a couple extra bucks to spare. I gleefully get up from my seat and walk over to the tim hortons that conveniently is right across from my gate.
"Hi what can I grab for you." The barista says in a very phoney customer service voice.
"Could I please get a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream?" I say in the same friendly tone. "Will that be all for you ma'am?"
Ma'am? I hold in the urge to giggle. I'm not offended, I actually think it's kinda funny.
"Yeah that's all thanks." I try so hard not to laugh. I slide two toonies across the counter. She hands me some change back and then my receipt. I lean against a wall while I wait for my hot chocolate. I'm really going to miss Tim Hortons. I'm sad that they don't have Tim Hortons in New Zealand. A few minutes go by and then the barista looks me in the eye and slides me the hot chocolate. There's no point in her calling out the order as in the only one here. I grab the drink and thank her before finding a seat at my gate. I look at the clock on the wall. The time reads 6:02. Just under forty-five minutes till my flight leaves.
I take a sip from the red cardboard cup. I feel the warmth in my mouth and the rich cocoa flavour envelopes my tongue. I haven't had hot chocolate in ages. It reminds me of all the times I walked home from school in winter and I would stop at the little coffee shop by my house and get a hot chocolate. The taste brings back memories of my cheeks being red and stingy from the cold winter air and the relief of walking into that warm little coffee shop. Then treating myself to a warm cup of hot cocoa. It was a little treat that I looked forward to after a hard day of school. A sense of calm washes over me as I am reminded of those memories that I haven't thought about in such a long time.
The clock inches closer to my departure time. I sit and watch the people around me. Most with family or a significant other. But some are alone. Just like me. I can't help but wonder where they're going and why they're going alone. I watch the clock tick and I realise each second is counting closer and closer to brand new experiences, new people, a new place, new challenges. But it's also bringing me further and further away from the comfort and familiarity of home.
It's crazy to think that life is full of these moments when we stand on the brink of change. The past behind us, yet still painful but also full of warm memories that bring us joy and security whenever we're reminded of them. And the future, completely unknown. We can't help but be filled with anxiety but also longing for both change and to go back to the way things were. At the same time we're also excited for the beginning of a new chapter of our lives. I think change is incredibly scary but it's also filled with new opportunities. It also teaches you a lot about yourself.
As time goes by I watch people come and go, some staring into a cell phone, some reading books, others staring into space like the people in the train.
"Flight uhh 1202.  We're boarding now. Please make your way over to gate f3" A young awkward sounding man says over the intercom. I grab my suitcase, put my backpack back on and walk over to the gate. I stand in line and watch as the line creeps forward. Eventually it's my turn. I hand the attendant my boarding pass and passport. He flips to the page with my photo on it and does a couple quick glances back and forth confirming I am the person in the photo. He hands me my passport and boarding pass back without saying a word. I walk down the narrow tunnel that leads to the plane. I place my hand on the outside of the plane. It's a weird little ritual I've been doing since I was a kid. I don't know why I do it but at this point it's tradition. I step over the little crack and onto the plane. The plane smells like a mix of old air and cleaning products. It's also incredibly cold. The flight attendant stands near the entrance and greets the passengers with smiles. I smile back at her. I make sure to make direct eye contact. I assume she doesn't get many people who smile back at her so I do. I walk down the narrow aisle. The dark blue carpet on the bottom of the plane reminds me of the floor in the airport. Except this time it's lined with reflective strips on either side. I find my seat and tuck my suitcase into one of the overhead compartments. To my delight I got a window seat. I sit down in my seat. It's strangely uncomfortable. Can't wait to sit here for eighteen hours. So far nobody's sitting next to me but that could change. People are still filing in. A girl who looks around the same age sits herself in the aisle seat next to me. The girl tucks her backpack under the seat in front of her and then takes a moment to settle into her space. I look at her and we exchange smiles. It's quite odd to see someone my age travelling by themselves. I can't help but wonder why she's going to New Zealand. I drink the last of my hot chocolate and tuck the empty cup into my backpack. I'll throw away the cup once the flight attendants come around and collect garbage.
It takes a while for everyone to settle but eventually everyone does. I feel the engines start to hum. I stare out the window. Outside is a big concrete plain painted with white and orange lines and people wearing suits with reflective lines on them. I can also see the wing of the aircraft from my window. I watch the big engines start to spin. Looks like we're going towards the runway. The plain slowly heads over to a big straight concrete path. The plane starts rumbling.
The plane begins moving faster and faster. I feel my stomach twisting. I feel the plane push my back into my seat. The feeling of take off; that delicate transition between sky and land is nausea inducing. The aircraft starts to rumble and I try not too look out the window. I close my eyes and try to pretend I'm somewhere else. The feeling of take off reminds me of a rollercoaster. I've always hated roller coasters. I didn't like the feeling of my stomach moving. I grip the armrests of my seat as hard as I can. My knuckles turn a pale white. Finally I feel the wheels of the aeroplane bumpily leave the ground. The nausea in my stomach still persists though.