C'est La Vie

I was never fond of planes. I had a very bad experience as a kid with some turbulence on a trip to visit my mother in England. Let's just say that there was a lot of flying luggage and a terrified seven year-old hiding under a seat. Stepping onto a plane thirteen years later still had the same panic attack inducing effect on me.

I scanned the seats quickly, stiffly walking over to my row in the middle of the plane, glad to not be in the back, where it was always the loudest. I slid over to the middle seat and tucked my small bag under the seat in front of me. The rest of my luggage was checked. I didn't want to have to keep track of anything other than my purse for this horrendously long trip: six hours.

My eyes searched the plane for the exits and, when I found them, I settled back into my seat. I wasn't relaxed in the least, but at least I would be able to find the exit in case of any emergency. Now my eyes traveled to the steady stream of passengers coming onto the large Boeing. Each passing person made me realize how lonely this trip would be. My best friend and almost sister Chelsea was going to Florida for Christmas break, so she had to turn down my invitation last minute.

I tugged my beanie down over my head farther and reached for my iPod, glad to have fully charged it before I left. I always forgot to completely charge my phone and iPod before I went on any long trips, making it very annoying for me and anyone surrounding me. I always ended up using them to keep me preoccupied.

As I switched my music on, two guys slid into the seats next to me. One, a brunette with light scruff under his chin smiled and gave me a slight wave. I smiled back, but my smile turned to a frown when the other boy, who was sitting next to me rolled his eyes. He had the same scruff and dark hair, but his was unruly to the max, wavy and looking like he had just rolled out of bed.

I turned my eyes to the window as I felt the plane start to move. My hands gripped the seat and I could feel a cold sweat break out along the back of my neck. I hoped nobody noticed, but it was probably quite obvious how terrified I was. My body was visibly tense, I knew that much, and I could feel the two boys' next to me eyes on me.

The plane started to speed up and I leaned back in my seat, pulling my beanie down even more in an awful nervous habit I had acquired over the years. A hand made me stop pulling the gray hat down. I looked over to see the happier of the two smiling at me.

"Don' worry love, it'll be over soon enough!" he cheered, an accent twinging his words.

The boy in the middle shoved the other one's hand away from his body, where it had crossed over to hold mine.

"I can't fucking wait to get 'ome," he muttered, sending a look to his friend.

The other boy shrugged and they started to talk quietly to each other, at which point I tuned them out. Within minutes I was asleep, feeling myself drifting into my dreams.

◊

I awoke to a wet feeling creeping down my legs. I looked down, staring at my soaked jeans. Looking to my right, I saw the two boys staring wide-mouthed at me, faces perfect pictures of what little boys look like when they get caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

"Sorry love, Matt over here was foolin' around and knocked my hand," the one next to me said, a funny look in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, taking a napkin off his tray and patting my leans down, attempting to soak up some of the water.

"I can tell you're pissed. If I sign something for you will you be 'appy?" he asked.

I looked at him with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm a singer love, girls always want my autograph," he replied easily, a cocky grin spreading over his face.

"Yeah fucking right. I don't need your autograph and nor will I ever want it," I snarled. Who was this cocky douchebag?! "Thanks for the offer though."

The boy to his right, Matt, started cracking up, muttering something about how that line never works to pick up girls. I rolled my eyes at the stuck up guy and popped my ear bud back in. It must have fallen out when I was asleep.

I felt it being pulled out of my ear only seconds later, hot breath filling its place.

"If you ever need anything you just let me know, yeah?"

I turned in my seat, staring at him straight on. "Get out of my face. I don't know who you are or what your problem is, but I don't like it one bit. If you ever want to pick up a girl, maybe try a different approach. Although, I doubt any would go for you anyways," I seethed, anger taking over.

I grabbed my bag and started to climb over the mass of jumbled legs in the row. There was an empty seat two rows up and I full intended on taking it. Thank god the plane was landing in fifteen minutes and I could be rid of him.

The older man sitting next to me engaged in a polite conversation with me, asking if I was just traveling for the holidays or if I was moving out to the area. When the plane landed we parted ways, him leaving me with the address of a book shop in Surrey that he owned and a promise to visit him.

I followed the group of passengers from my plane heading towards baggage claim and waited at the correct carousel. This airport was huge and I hoped I wouldn't get lost. I was just hoping I could find my brother Chris. I hadn't seen him in so many years that I doubted I would even remember what he looked like.

I grabbed my bags easily, stepping up to grab them just as the two boys from before went to grab theirs. They each grabbed large cases that looked fit for guitars and returned to grab even more. I watched with utter fascination as the apparent band successfully claimed everything before it disappeared in the carousel for good.

Dragging my luggage behind me, I stepped outside, met with the biting wind of London in winter. I looked all around but I saw no boys my age with a sign that read my name. I bit my lip in frustration. He better not have forgotten to get me, I would certainly lay into him when i saw him if he did.

My brother and I were close. He was actually my step-brother, which is why I never see him. My mother remarried an English man out here in London and he had a son from a previous marriage that was my age. At the time of the wedding I was eight, so all I could picture of Chris was his deep brown hair and carefree eyes. Chris and I managed to start to keep in contact with each other by weekly phone calls, yet I still didn't know everything about him, and him me.

I was just about to step inside from the chilly weather when I heard my name being called.

"Jordan?"

I turned around, grinning crazily when I saw the tall, long-haired boy. He started to walk toward me and I ran at him, enveloping him in a big hug.

"Chris!" I squealed. "I thought you forgot me!"

Chris laughed, letting go of me.

"I had to pick up these loons too, so I figured I'd find them before they got into trouble," he said, sticking his thumb back over his shoulder to a group of boys. I couldn't make out their faces clearly, but I was curious as to where they were from.

"Here, let me grab your bags."

Chris picked up my stuff with ease and then extended his arm for me to link mine through.

"I'm warning you in advance, these guys are pretty nuts. They won't scare you off though." Chris grinned cheekily at me as we walked over. "They're all in the band I told you about. I flew over a week early to help mom and dad prepare for you. They were just hanging around Boston being tourists."

"Can we go now?" a voice whined. My ears perked up and I looked at the group of boys that were smiling at me. One, when he turned, met my eyes with shock. My own eyes narrowed and I turned my head slightly away from them to meet Chris' eyes.

"Guys, this is my sister Jordan. Jordan, these are the guys, Matt, Max, Dan, and Josh."

Of course it was the boys I had sat with on the plane. I really needed to stop butting heads with people I don't know: I always end up being surrounded by them. This was going to be a long vacation.