Who Are You To Tell Me I Would Smuggle A Bomb On The Plane?

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it!" I cried. "La la la la la!"

I pulled my hands over my ears.

"Honey, please," my mother stated calmly. "You've got to listen to me," my mother stated.

"No I won't do it!" I yelled.

"Fine just hear me out, you're father-"

I cut her off, "That man is not my father!"

"Honey please, quiet down. Ryan and I will be traveling around the world and we can't bring you with us. You will be staying with your father in London, England," she said.

"Ack! Fine! I don't want to be with you any way!" I stormed up the steps to my bedroom. Slamming my door on my way in.

I plopped down on my bed.

"Urgh! Why would she do something like this? She can't!" I pounded the bed. I heard a light knock at my door. "What?!" I questioned angrily.

"Honey, pack your stuff," my mother said leaving her place behind the closed door.

"Fine!" I called back.

I grabbed my dirty orange bag out of my closet. I threw some essentials into it. My iPod, laptop, extra hoodie, PSP, you know the usual electronics and such. I zipped it up and tore open my closet door. I found my two army issue bags, I laid them out on the bed and raided my closet for anything.

I threw my collection of black and red clothes into the bags. I examined all of my band shirts before throwing them in too. I grabbed my collection of belts and ties and threw them in a separate duffel bag. I grabbed an outfit out of the closet. It consisted of a pair of black skinny Tripp pants, tight fitting The Sex Pistols tee shirt, my ratty black converse, and two spiked belts, a black one and a red one. I did my make up quick, throwing on some thick black eyeliner, I closed my suitcases. I threw my back pack over both my shoulders and pulled my other bags behind me. I grabbed my skateboard from its usual place by the door.

>>>> Fast Forward

I got off the many hour long plane ride frazzled and unsure of my surroundings. My multi colored hair was a mess and my eyeliner was smudged. I hurried to the bathroom before getting my luggage. I tried my best and combed through my hair with my fingers. I touched up my eyeliner and approved my image in the mirror. I walked out of the bathroom not before bumping into an up tight looking blonde.

"Hey watch were you're going," I grunted.

"You watch were your going," she replied.

"Excuse me what did you say?" I glared daggers.

"I said watch where you're going!" her voice grew.

"Watch what you say skank," I spat back.

"You did not just call me a skank," she made a weird motion with her hands.

"Oh I'm afraid I did," I mimicked the motion.

She stood in her spot with her mouth open only for a few seconds before she moved on. I flipped her off as she walked away. Then feeling satisfied with myself I went to go retrieve my luggage. It took 20 minutes before my luggage arrived around the belt.

I picked the bags up and headed towards custom and security. It took almost 3 hours to finally get through it all.

"Urgh!" I cried almost pulling out my hair.

"The worst part is customs. What the hell am I going to do smuggle a freaking bomb?" I cried throwing my hands up in the air.

"I don't know but it’s possible," an english accented voice said behind me. I turned violently to see who had said that.

I was greeted by a beautiful boy with a spiky, multi-colored, mohawk. He wore a tight The Sex Pistols t-shirt and a pair of ripped skinny jeans. He also had on a pair of costumed colored converse.

"Well hello there. Who are you to judge if I would bring a bomb onto a plane?" I asked him.

"Well I don't know but it'd be nice to know your name," he said smiling sheepishly.

I stared at him dumb founded for a few seconds before answering his question.

"My name is Hayden," I said. "And your name?" I looked at him.

"Names Jimmy." He smiled.

"Nice hair! How did you get the colors to blend like that?" I asked him examining the colors of his mohawk.

"Its easy I'll show you later not here," he said.

"Alright fine I'll give you my number call me tomorrow or so," I said scribbling my cell number on a piece of ripped notebook paper.

"Thanks I'll be sure to call you later." He walked away.