Pretend

But here I am, sitting in the plastic airport chairs. Waiting for the plane to load. I viced my arms around my carry on. My mother was shipping me off to live with my father. Well, not so much my father as my grandparents. She couldn't deal with me anymore. It was a new start, though! I mean, I'd miss my friends, but my grandparents were loaded.

"Flight 901, now loading," a pleasant voice called oer the speakers. I stood, and walked slowly to my flight. I stood at the entry, turned back around to look at my mother. Tears glistened in her eyes, and rode down her cheeks. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and walked through the hallway. I found my seat, a window seat.

I took my iPod out of my pocket, and pushed the ear buds into my ear, turning something with heavy bass on. I turned my phone off, and zipper it into my carry on. I leaned my head back, and fell asleep.

♦♦♦

She whipped around the corner.

"Rebecca, Rebecca," She panted. I stopped in my tracks.

"Let me use your phone, I need to call my step dad." I handed my phone to her. Almost weary of this being a trick. I watched her, silently as she dialed. There were cuts on her legs, and her hair was mussed.

She looked up at me, her brown eyes full of fear. They were wide, and red around the rims from crying. Her expression changed quickly, and I saw a smirk in her eyes. I watched, my mouth hanging open as she raised my phone over her head, and threw it down. She started laughing, and went around the corner, to a boy who wrapped his arms around her petite form.

I crossed my arms over my chest. My breathing turned into sobbing.  My hands moved back up to my face as I ran. Tears dripping slowly off my chin. I looked up just in time to find a ready foot in front of mine, waiting to trip me.

I woke with a jolt. I shuddered at the though. I leaned back in my seat, and turned a little bit to look at my neighbor. He was an older man, with a balding head. He looked to be about seventy. He looked over at me, and I gave him my pink brace filled smile. He smiled back, and then turned back toward the front, and closed his eyes.

I looked out the window, at the patchwork ground. I flipped through some more of the songs on my iPod, and settled for one.

"Please fascine your seat belts, we will be landing shortly," I buckled, and then grabbed on to the arm rests. I wanted a longer plane ride. I wasn't ready to see my no-show father.

♦♦♦

"Schmoo," The familiar childhood nickname. Of course. A simple smile crossed my father's face, and I returned one, even if it was a little drier than what I was trying for. He locked an arm arund me. His smell coming back to me.  A little bit of cigarette smoke, some cinnamon, a hint of a woodsey cologne, and you had it.

"Hi dad," Was all I could manage. Small tears pricked his eyes, and he took my had and lead me to the car, my suitcase trailing behind, and my carry on safely tucked over my shoulder.

"Schmoo, I've missed you a lot,"