Where This Road Goes

Jeanine Elizabeth Raimon. My eyes kept scanning over my name, the ink already fading on my one way ticket. Airplanes scared me. Ever since I was five, and we flew to my great grandmother's funeral. The thought of being millions of miles above it all made me nauseus. I had to stop thinking about it. This was a big chance for me. There were no other options. It was either go back to school, i couldn't afford it, go back home, i couldn't stand my mother, or go on tour with the greatest bands there were. Guess which one was the best to me?

"Liz! Hey guys, it's Liz!"

I was met with arms wrapped tight around my small figure, hands patting my back gently. The smell of pot mixed with Antonio Banderas cologne. When Jeremy, the band's front man, pulled away from the hug, our eyes met.

"I'm so glad you could make it. You know, this is gonna be great."

I watched his lips move as he spoke. I traced over every letter with my eyes, and then nodded slightly. Dear Amy had been a popular band from the first moment they played together. Their songs were all over the radio, their albums were owned by everyone with a name. It was hard to believe that I had been asked to be their opening act. Me, Liz, who only knew how to play an acoustic guitar and sing soft. Dear Amy was a group of rock stars with trashy girlfriends and lots of money. But Liz, well, I was just a girl from a suburban neighborhood. The kind where everyone got together for a monthly barbecue, talked about their scholar children and their rich surgeon husbands. Everything had always been exactly the same my whole life. Until now, anyways.

"So, you like flying?"

David. Drummer, twenty-four, likes white castle and romantic comedies. I shrugged, unsure if I should admit my fear or not. David was tall, but incredibly thin. He wore thick bottle-rimmed glasses, and grey high tops. He looked so unsure of his life, of himself.

"Well, have you ever been flying before?"

Mitch. Bassist, twenty, one year older than me. I had heard a rumor that he was addicted to cigarettes and under age girls. He sure looked the part. He wasn't as tall as David, but he was still tall, and not as thin. He wore lots of plaid, and had his ears stretched wide with printed black plugs. I imagined putting a gatorade bottle cap through them.

"Just once," i said. "I was really small, so I don't remember a lot of it." Lie. Jeremy flung his arm around me, passed me a stick of gum.

"Don't worry. It's awesome. You'll love it."

We all sat. Jeremy, David, Mitch, their guitarist Lucas and I. All in a row, with me in the middle. I had never been into the airline's VIP lounge before, but it felt surreal. Wine and ashtrays being passed around, plates of different exotic food. I tried to avoid eating. If I hurled on the plane, I would be too embarrassed.

When the plane was ready, we were the last to board. One at a time, tickets out. Lucas grabbed my bags, let me straighten out my posture. The boys all chose seats by windows. I decided to stay as close to the aisle as I could.

Our first class seats were too comfortable for my taste. The red velvet plush felt like air underneath me. All the space made me look even smaller than I already was. All my life I had never grown taller than five-foot, never weighed more than my current ninety-eight pounds. More wine came around, no more ashtrays. My heart raced, I tightened my seat belt as far as it would go, tried to look relaxed.

"The gum!" Jeremy turned around, pointed to me. "Chew the gum! It's amazing!"

I pulled the minty stick out of my pocket, shoved it in my mouth at once. Suddenly, the plane was moving, everyone leaned against their windows, and I leaned against my seat. I clung onto the arm rests for dear life, closed my eyes tight and chewed my gum with slashing movements of my jaw. And then suddenly, the plane took off of the ground. And I screamed.