Finding Harry

1. Finding Florida

My eyes struggle to adjust to the fluorescent lighting of the plane as I make my way to my seat after showing my boarding pass to the flight attendant, "Brave to be travelling on my own so young" she had told me before flashing me an over the top smile showing me her teeth that unfortunately for her, had been decorated by her vibrant red lipstick.

I had almost spun round and ran off the plane right that second, brave she had called me as if I had any other choice, it was either this or spending the next three months locked up in some stupid rehab centre for young troubled girls and that. That is not a real choice.

So instead of running I gave a small smile and nod then she pointed me to my seat. Sitting down by the window I immediately take out my sunglasses and earphones out of my hoodie pocket and put my sunglasses on.

I find that if I wear sunglasses on a plane it makes me twenty times less approachable. Actually anytime I wear sunglasses I find that people interact with me less, thats why I always keep them with me. Less strangers less trouble, most of the time at least.

Then I take out my phone and scroll through Spotify till I find the right playlist, put my earphones in and press play. Florence And The Machine fills my ears as I sink into my seat. I turn my ticket round in my hands before folding it in half and stuffing it in my shoe, Seattle to Florida. This summer was gonna suck.

I let my mind wander as I stare out the window watching the rain slowly glide down the glass. I think about my Mom and Dad, their faces as I left them at the terminal, My Mom's plastered with her regular 'I'm so beyond disappointed in you' stone stare and My Dad's covered in worry. She hadn't said a word to me since she told me "I've had enough of this Harry, I'm done" the night I woke up at the hospital.

Dad said she'd eventually simmer down, but he was wrong and now I'm on a plane going across the country. Using the hair tie on my wrist I tie my dreads into a low bun and let out a deep breath, it's better here on this plane that's about to be five-hundred miles in the air than where I was the past month. Sunny-side Youth rehab is not the sunny place at least Florida is supposed to be.

I'm knocked out of my train of thought when I feel someone take their place next to me, my curiosity gets the best of me as I glance sideways. A woman, Jamaican or maybe Somalian, probably in her mid twenties has sat down beside me. Her deep brown hair is in two thick braids decorated with gold rings.

She's wearing a pair of high waisted light blue jeans and a white button up thats definitely over priced and designer, her posture is great she's definitely some sort of professional, I wonder why she's headed to Florida. My eyes widen as she glances to me and gives me a smile but I quickly return smile then quickly go back to looking out the window, wishing my sunglasses had more coverage.

My heart beat quickens as I feel the plane begin to move, I must of zoned out during the flight attendants speech. I remember to fasten my seatbelt as we begin to make our way down the runway.

---

The cold water from the stingy plane bathroom feels great as I splash it against my face, careful to avoid my mascara covered eyelashes. Four hours into a five hour flight and I've used the bathroom about six times, not because I need to but because I missed the freedom of being able to use one without being supervised.

There's just something about being able to go for a pee without someone intensely watching you that makes it so much more freeing. I put my sunglasses back on and head back to my seat.

The final place in my aisle was taken up by an old man, most likely late fifties, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts and visor. I honestly don't think it gets more cliche than that. At some point during my zone out he must've sat down. As I retake my seat and buckle in he speaks his first words to me before I have the chance to put my earphones back in,