I squirm in my seat trying to avoid the foot that keeps kicking me in the back.
Thump.
That's it.
My hazel-green eyes flash in annoyance and rage. I fumble with the seatbelt on my airplane seat before standing up and looking down on the kid behind me.
"Look, kid," I start. "What is wrong with you? Did you run out of other things to hit and bite back there?"
A hand reaches up and pinches my arm. "Emma Rae Bennett!" my mother whisper-yells so she won't disturb the other passengers.
Oooh. The full name. I wince. "He deserved it!"
"You are acting like you are six instead of nearly sixteen! Apologize right now!"
I turn back around to face the short black-haired boy.
Also known as the Kangaroo Kid.
He smirked. I felt myself getting angry again, but I swallow back my harsh words and replace them with my "I'm Sorry" speech delivered in my most sugary sweet voice.
"I'm so very sorry that I lashed out at you," I turn to the lady seated next to him. "And ma'am, I'm also sorry."
A wrinkle of confusion appeared between her dark eyebrows. "Lo siento. No puedo entender. ¿Hablas español?"
I sigh.
I have no idea what she just said.
Apologizing one more time in English, I plop back down to my seat in the middle. I clip my seatbelt together so the airline stewardess wouldn't pass by and scold me for not having it on. For the fourth time this flight.
"When are we getting to D. C.?" I whine to my mom.
She has her nose in a Nicholas Sparks novel and she looks like she could cry at any second.
"Mo-om?" I sing-song after she doesn't respond.
More sniffling, no answer.
"Mom!" I say with a huff.
She finally looks up with tears in her eyes. "Ronnie's dad just died."
Oh. My. Gosh.
I roll my eyes and slip a hair elastic off of my wrist. "That's great Mom. But any-hoo, when are we getting to D. C.?" I ask as I pull up my curly red hair into a sloppy bun at the back of my head.
She closes her book and places it in the seatback pocket. Mom squints at her watch and replies, "Probably in about an hour. Our flight lands at eleven 'o' clock. We got a late flight to D.C."
I start shaking my leg impatiently.
"Emma, I know you are excited to see your friend, but just hold on. We aren't going to see her tonight anyways. Try to fall asleep until then, ok sweety?" Mom soothes.
I twist myself in order to find the perfect place to sleep for the remaining hour of this torturous flight.
Who cares that my butt is numb, my back is sore, and my hair is a tangled, frizzy mess. Maybe I can get half an hour of sleep and that will make it all better! I saracastically think to myself.
Only twelve more hours until I get to see my best friend. I haven't seen Kylie in over two years. We talk via Facebook, texts, and video chat, but I haven't actually been face to face with her in a really long time.
I've know Kylie since forever. Our mom's met each other in their pregnant lady yoga class. They started chatting and were amazed when they found out that they went to the same church and that their little girls were expected to be born on the same day. And they both agreed that Amy should be voted off the Bachelor.
Our moms decided it was God's way of saying that we were meant to be BFFs forever.
I don't believe in a God. I just think it was cool that Kylie and I always got along really well when we were little.
We grew up closer than sisters, living just three houses down from each other. We were Emma and Kylie. Kylie and Emma. Our names were always grouped together.
But about three years ago her dad got a job offer in D.C. So my other half relocated to the other side of the continent. As far from California as she could get.
This summer, my parents told me I could go to D. C. to visit. They had everything planned out. It was a present for both Kylie and I on our shared birthday.
I get to see my best friend, travel to the capitol, get away from my five brothers and sisters, and best of all, I've almost forgotten that there is a grossly obese drooling man in the seat next to me.
Finally finding my comfortable position in the chair, I lean my head against my mom's shoulder. I let out a yawn and start to drift off to sleep.
Thump.
Grrrrrr...
YOU ARE READING
Book of Secrets
Teen FictionSixteen year old Emma Bennett is going to D.C. to see her best friend again. She and her friend are having the time of their lives wandering D.C. alone until Emma stumbles upon a book. A book full of drawings, paintings, and valuable information. Th...