"Flight 137 to Toronto is now boarding!" The voice on the P.A system calls out. Hazel and I grab our bags and walk to the boarding gate. As we settle down in our seats, a lady in her fifties walks up to us.
"Excuse me, this is my seat." She says looking at me.
"No, that must be a mistake, this is my seat. Number 54." I state.
"Well, lookie here, dearie, this is my seat." She shows me her ticket and I see the number 54.
"Well, this is my seat. Look at my ticket." I flash her my card and she stalks off, muttering about moronic kids.
I relax in my chair until the lady re-appears with a flight attendant.
"I'm sorry miss, but you're in this lady's seat." The attendant says with a smile.
"No, I'm not moving. This is my seat." I repeat for the 3rd time.
"This is seat number 54, and her ticket has that number on it." She says in a more irritated voice.
I pull out my ticket and hand it to her. She reads through it and smiles at us.
"We must have over-booked. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience." She says and walks off with the lady at her feet.
"Witch." I mutter. I am proud to say I have never cussed in my life. I have plenty of words to make up for them.
Soon after an announcement come on asking for someone to give up their seat. When no one stands the lady is kicked off the flight and we take off.
I don't feel tired so I order a pack of pringles and shuffle down in my seat. I munch happily on my snack and when I get thirsty, I ask for a bottle of water.
I look at Hazel who is sleeping peacefully. I smile at the sight of her. Her hair is in her face and I can already tell she'll have a crazy bedhead when she wakes up. I'm pretty lucky with the fact that I don't get bedhead. My face just looks older and more tired when I wake up. Luckily, by the time I leave for school I look alive and awake.
I tap the screen of the t.v in front of me. I soon have an array of movies to chose from. I decide on 'After Earth', a movie I've been wanting to see but no one wanted to go with me. I refuse to put my reputation on the line for a movie.
6 hours later an announcement comes on about us about to land. I decide to let Hazel sleep because otherwise she would feel sick. When we get closer to the ground I gently rub under my ears to keep the pain away. It's only a small pain so I don't really complain.
When we land I gently shake Hazel who screams bloody murder, attracting the stares of many strangers. She blushes and grabs her carry-on and walks off the plane, ignoring the glares of the surrounding audience.
We were off the plane and at the baggage claim in record time. I grab my white and black polka-dot suitcases and Hazel takes her neon yellow, green, and pink bags.
We make our way to the sea of people and I see a sign that says 'Jennings' on it. We walk towards the person holding it.
"Hi, I'm Brandon. Come with me." He says with a small smile.
We follow him out to the parking lot and he leads us to a shiny white Ferrari. The guy-Brandon- puts our stuff in the back and we climb into the seats.
"So, um, if you don't mind my asking, why does a driver have such a fancy car?" Hazel asks. Brandon bursts out laughing.
"I told mom you'd think that." He shakes his head. "I'm the second oldest of us Robertson's. I'm 21 years old and I am most definitely not a driver." He smirks.
YOU ARE READING
Me, My Twin, and the Robertson Boys
RandomGrace and Hazel Jennings: The 17 year old twins who stick together no matter what. Rain or shine, they are glued at the hip. When their parents get sent to a mental hospital, they're forced to go live with their parents friend and her husband...
