Chapter One
I stood impatiently by the airport gate. Finally, my mother appeared through the crowd. When she caught sight of me, she ran up and gave me a huge hug.
“You don’t have to go,” she whispered, shoulders shaking.
I gave her a pat on the back and said, “Yes, I do, mom.”
She pulled out of the hug, like she was offended, and said, “You could always stay here with Bill and I.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Three weeks earlier, my boyfriend, Austin, had been caught in a gun fight between two gangs. He had accidentally been shot and killed. Two weeks before, I had gone to his funeral. His family was there, his good friends, and some people that I had never met before. Then I saw him. He laid in the casket, dressed in a tuxedo that I have never seen before, make-up on his face. I wanted to wipe the make-up off his face, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch him. For days after than, the picture of Austin, the Austin that looked like the Austin I didn’t know, loomed in my dreams, imprinted in my mind. Since that day, I knew that I would never be able to live in Boston or love again. But I didn’t know where I would move to, especially since my mom was very content with staying right where we were. Then, the idea hit me like a wave: I would move in with my dad, who lived in Miami, Florida, about a thousand miles away. That should bury my memories and heal by blood-soaked heart, right? So I packed up my bags and got a plane ticket for the nearest flight from Boston to Miami.
The flight attendant at the desk near the gate picked up a phone and spoke into it. Her voice echoed all around the terminal. “First-class passengers of the flight from Miami to Boston may now board the plane.”
“You really don’t have to go,” said mom. “You can stay here. I really don’t know why you are making such a big deal over that boy’s death. It really can’t be so bad that you have to leave me and move in with your father.” She spat the last word out like it was something dirty and disgusting; something that didn’t belong in such a clean mouth like hers.
“I mean, it’s not like you were married or had a really serious relationship or anything,” my mother rambled on. “Even if you were, I really don’t know why you have to leave. I mean, can’t you just forget about him already and move on with your life?”
I exploded. “Mom, this is my way of moving on with my life! I can’t stand it here any longer since he died! He was really important to me! Every time I walk down the street; every time I see the news about a death or a shooting or something, my heart bleeds! If I go to a place far away, then I won’t be reminded of him so much and I can recover! Then, maybe, just maybe, I can come back and live here without my heart being stabbed and my dreams full of fear and sadness!”
“Oh, and you think that Miami doesn’t have any deaths or anything? They have even more deaths than Massachusetts does! And I don’t know why your being so dramatic, you never had a real relationship anyway! It was teen love! It never lasts!” cried my mother.
“If it never lasts, than why did you fall in love and marry dad when you were a teen?” That was it. I had brought dad into the picture. My mother would hate me forever and longer.
Mom stiffened. She raised her hand as though to slap me, but then decided not to, as though I was too dirty to touch, even if it was for a second. Mom turned on her heel and walked off stiffly. Before she disappeared, she turned and yelled, “FINE! GO AND LIVE WITH YOUR FATHER! I DON’T CARE! IN FACT, I’LL BE BETTER OFF! AND DON’T EVER COME BACK! SEE IF I CARE!” and she stalked off.
The flight attendant at the front desk picked up a phone and said into it “The second-class passengers of the flight from Boston to Miami may now board the plane.”
I picked up my carry on backpack, swung it over my shoulder, and walked onto the plane. This was my first time flying someplace all by myself, even though I have had plenty of vacations. I usually go everywhere with my mom because we are the best of friends. We do everything together. I guess that’s not going to happen anymore. My mom had always felt more like a friend than a mom, and I found that I could tell my mom almost everything, which most people can’t do.
I sat down in my seat, a window seat, and immediately stared out the window at the airport. My home. That had my mom in it. That I was leaving for good. And never coming back. The place where I would never ever see my dear Austin again. A single tear ran down my cheek and dropped onto the back of my left hand.
I didn’t know that someone was standing next to me until he spoke. “Is this seat taken?”
I looked up and saw a tall, handsome man, dressed completely in black, with long silver hair pulled back into a ponytail standing next to me. Behind his glasses were sparkling eyes and a friendly smile played across his face.
I smiled back at him for a second before replying. “No, no. Please, sit down.”
We sat in silence for about a half an hour. I stared out the window while the man stared straight ahead, eyes unblinking. When the plane finally took off, I opened my carry on bag, revealing a large amount of books stuffed into the bag.
“You like to read?” asked the man as I sat up with a book, cover bent from much use, in my hands.
“Yes, I love to read,” I answered. “Fantasy is my favorite. Anything can happen.”
“Indeed, anything can,” answered the man, and for some reason he sounded like he was talking about real life instead of books. “Did you know that I happen to own a bookstore in Miami?”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes, actually. It’s called The Dragons Scroll. It’s located on Firveiw Street.”
Firveiw Street. The name sounded familiar. Where had I heard that name before? After a moment of thinking, I realized where I had heard it before.
“Did you say Firveiw Street?” I asked.
The man nodded.
“That’s the street I live on!” I cried. I was so excited that I started bouncing around in my seat. But then I stopped. Was it fate or just a coincidence or was it set up so that I meet a man who happens to own a bookstore that’s right on my street? Miami is a big city. Usually when you talk to the person you meet on a plane or bus, you talk to them and then never see them ever again, even in a small town.
“Really? You live on that street?” the man had a shocked and worried expression on his face. Then, he murmured to himself, “I knew that I would be meeting the person sometime soon, but its never like this, or so soon. And it’s never…”
I couldn’t hear the rest of what he said, but what he did say confused me deeply. The person? Never like this or so soon? What was he talking about?
“Excuse me?” I asked. The man looked up sharply. “What did you say? Where you talking to me?”
“Oh, um, no, no. I was just saying to myself about how you live so close, and you love books, maybe you could, um, uh, stop by some time?” he replied nervously, like he didn’t actually say that. Like he was actually covering up for something else. Like he was wondering how much I had actually heard.
Throughout my life, I have always been able to see things and hear things better than others around me, and I have always been able to tell what people are thinking through they’re emotions, no matter how well they can hid them. And I could tell now that this man was wondering how much I had heard and…the rest I wasn’t completely sure about.
“I’m sorry,” apologized the man. “I’ve never actually introduced myself. My name is Alex Connors.”
“My name is--” I paused. I wanted to tell him a fake name because I hate my name and regularly get made fun of for it. But I didn’t. “My name is Pride Keena.”
Instead of raising an eyebrow or laughing at my name as most people do, Alex simply said, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
For the rest of the plane ride, Alex and I talked about things; simple things. School, my parents, why I was moving to Miami, the friends I had at my old school. At one point in the plane ride, I just blurted out what happened to Austin. I don’t know why. I just did. Alex calmed me and, even though I didn’t know him for that long, I trusted him deeply.
As we came close to the Miami airport, I noticed that the whole plane ride, we had only talked about things that I did and my plans for the future. I hadn’t learned one thing about Alex, but I didn’t dare to ask. I don’t know why, but I felt that he wouldn’t tell me the truth or get mad at me if I asked. So I kept my mouth shut.
Finally, the plane landed and we got off. As we stood in front of the airport, the hot sun shinning in our faces, my luggage by my side (weirdly, Alex didn’t have any baggage of any sort), Alex turned to me and said, “My dear Pride, this is where our paths must suppurate, but I ensure you, they will cross again, as you surely know.” Then he kissed my hand, turned, and climbed into a black limo waiting for him across the parking lot.
