The Wallflower and the Prankster

Chapter Eleven: Transfer

March

Alazne

The plane ride was dull. For most of the time, I tuned onto the small television screen attached the back of the seat in front of me and listened to nineties music. Sometimes, I snuck sideway glances at Joshua who was sleeping or as he liked to call it 'at Mars' . He was cute, resting his head on his hand which was propped up on the armrest. His hair fell heavily on one side which his head phones circled the back of his ear and rested on the top of it. His mouth widened a bit, moving along with his heaving chest. Every now and then he would cringe or blink a bit, then fall back asleep.

          Eve warned me about Josh on a plane. Apparently when he was younger, his plane nearly crashed so in order for him to go on a plane, he'd take some pills which would calm his nerves. In other words, he would sleep the whole way through the ride and for a week or so, he'd be jetlag.

          I think it is safe to say: Joshua Grey has issues. He is definitely not the guy I admired from the moment I heard about him. He isn't a rebel, or a nerd, or even a prankster for the matter. No label could defy him. He was Joshua Grey. A kid who had a (what I assume) a terrible childhood and is trying to regain it by having some 'fun'.

          In fact, I was more than happy when the plane landed. I was the first to grab my bag and head for the exit. I almost forgot about Joshua until I made it to the terminal. With one duffel bag in my arm and a crowd swarming around me, my heart quickened. I was in a different place, ten thousand miles from home—in England and I have no clue who I was meant to look for. I expected a man or woman to hold a sign saying my name.

          I squealed a bit when I felt a hand grip my shoulder. I spun around and swung my bag in the air, hitting the creep. The creep landed on the ground and from my line of vision, a crowd was collecting itself.

          The boy covered the side of his face, and lifted his head. I could make out the redness of his cheek. "It's just me. Jo—Reynard."

          "Oh." I was an idiot. That was my best response. I should have said something quirky like 'well you act like one' or 'says the guy with the mascara' instead I apologized and extended my hand. He clasped it, and effortlessly got up without tugging on my hand. The funny thing about it was: he didn't take his hand away from mine. He just held it; my hand was burning at his touch. Pretending not to notice, I cleared my throat. Realising the crowd was disappearing. I looked at the far distance at the glass window. When I was little, I would crash myself in the window by accident and make a fool out of myself. It was insanely humiliating, and at the moment I fell to the ground, I wished I was invisible or I could just disappear. Guess I got my wish, I thought. Since I am a prime example of a wallflower—Alana the wallflower, the quiet one, the awkward one, the weird one, that girl, her—one of my many common names.

          "What's so funny?" A voice broke my line of thoughts. My eyes fluttered and snapped in Joshua's direction. He was intently staring at me, his eyes meeting mine. A smile broke from his face. "You're strange Alana. First, you're squeezing my hand, and now you're laughing. I'm scared of what is going inside that mind of yours."

          "At least I'm not the one who needs pills to go one a plane," I scoffed. Hearing his voice made me feel more natural. It was like a boost of confidence...just like a drug. Clearing my throat, I tucked my side bangs behind my ear and looked at the white tiles.  "Do you know who is picking us up?"

          "Beats me." He shrugged.

          "Seriously? They didn't tell you." My brows rose in mock amusement.