“That’s not what I’m nervous about.” As soon as I say it, I regret it. Being afraid of a plane crash is a lot easier to explain than what actually has me rethinking this trip.
Anne frowns at me. “What are you nervous about then?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid.”
“You brought it up.”
“Let’s just drop it. I’m sure everything will be fine.” I don’t actually believe what I’m saying, but I have to at least pretend to be normal.
“You’re afraid you’re going to get sick, aren’t you?” she asks. “Do you get motion sickness?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” I lie. “I can’t ride a rollercoaster without throwing up.”
“You’ll be fine. I used to throw up every time I flew. I can teach you what I did to overcome it.”
“Thanks.” Now I have two things to worry about. I hadn’t even considered that if I made it onto the plane, I might throw up all over myself.
We make it to the airport, and Anne parks her car in the lot. I take a deep breath. I’m more nervous now than I was when I first got into her car.
“I forgot my passport,” I say. “It’s probably too late to go get it, right? We should just head back.”
Anne rolls her eyes and grabs onto my arm, pulling me toward the building. “You don’t need a passport to fly to California.”
I feel weightless as I let her drag me toward the sliding doors that open into the airport. I’m sweating and yet I’m cold at the same time. I’m sure that if she looked back at me, she’d be startled by how pale I’ve become. As we head into the security line, I watch the TSA agents ahead of us. When one of them meets my eye, I look away, hoping that I’m not drawing too much attention to myself.
I lean over to Anne as we reach the X-ray machines. “What if they don’t let me through?” I whisper.
She laughs. It’s clear she thinks I’m joking. “Do they have a reason to not let you through?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. They’re not going to, like, make me take off my clothes, are they?”
She scans the line ahead of us. “I don’t see anyone else getting naked. I’m pretty sure that’s what the body scanners are for. But I won’t complain if that guy with the biceps tattoo tells me he needs to pat me down.”
“What guy?” I don’t remember noticing a tattoo on any of the TSA agents.
“Blue shirt,” she says.
“He’s not a TSA agent, Anne. He’s…” I watch as Tattoo Guy unfolds a stroller and a woman carrying a toddler lowers the kid into it. “He’s a passenger.Andhe’s married.”
“Still wouldn’t complain.”
I jab her in the arm with my elbow. “You’re terrible.”
I’m too entertained by Anne’s inappropriate remark to realize that I’ve made it to the front of the line. I pass through the body scanner, then hold my breath when the TSA agent tells me to wait. I realize that all my fears are about to come true. Someone is going to pull me aside and arrest me or tell me that I need to—
“Okay, you’re good to go,” the agent says before I can even finish my train of terrified thoughts. I hurry to the conveyor belt and grab my things. Anne comes through the body scanner a moment later, and then we continue through the airport.
We stop at one of the restaurants for a bite to eat, and then we make it to our gate just in time to board the plane. We’re seated all the way at the back of the plane.
My phone buzzes almost as soon as I sit down. I look at the screen and feel a jolt of excitement when I see a new text message from Jake.
Hot Neighbor:The elevator just shook while I was riding down. Made me think of you.
I smile. I wonder if he’s making this up just for an excuse to talk to me.
Naomi:Did you get stuck?
Hot Neighbor:Nope. It only shook a little.
