07 - The Movings - Edith
If I was going to give my life a title, I would probably have to name it "The Movings Of Brenna Mitchell", for if my life consisted of more than that, it sure wasn't known to me! We'd been moving for as long as I can remember. My dad's job, you see. He gets transferred more than anybody else I know. Seriously, to me, all I do is globe trot, which may sound like fun, but it sure loses most of its effect after you've moved as much as I have. I was honestly beginning to think that if I stayed in one place long enough to make a really, really, really good friend, I might die of a heart attack. Yes, "The Movings Of Brenna Mitchell" was a good name for it.
Those were just some of the thoughts that were floating around in my head as I settled into my seat on the airplane. It was my first time flying first class, so, that made the moving a bit more exciting. It was also my first time flying all alone (Mom and Dad had taken an earlier flight.) The independence was a new feeling too... and I liked it! This time, we were moving from Seattle, to a small town outside of Toronto. Fun. I settled down deeper into my seat. I decided that I could really get used to how comfortable they were. Much better than other seats.
I looked towards the boy sitting next to me. He was around my age, which was almost 14, and had blondish hair and caramel eyes. He wasn't really paying all that much attention to me, and was sitting so that I could not entirely see his face. He was traveling alone, or so it looked to me. He shifted his head a tad, caught me looking, and turned his whole body towards the aisle. Feeling a little bit slighted, I turned away from him too. If he didn't want to associate with me, fine, then I didn't want to associate with him. Plain and simple. The plane was taking off anyway. I love to look out the window when it does that. I leaned my head against the window and gazed out.
The plane jolted, and I jumped. My head clunked against the window, and I grumbled at the bump. Sitting up straight, I shifted my position, and looked the boy next to me. The jolt, it appeared, had caught him in as much surprise as it caught me. I smiled at him.
"Bumpy ride." There, I'd done my part. The flight to Toronto wasn't exactly short, and I didn't want to sit here in total silence, so I figured I'd see if Mr. I Don't Want To Talk would change his ways just a bit.
He laughed too, "Yeah, kinda. I've been on way worse. Is this your first flight?"
I snorted, "I only wish."
He smiled, and turned totally to face me. In that second, I saw why he hadn't before. Zac Hanson. I was sitting on a plane by Zac Hanson. I felt my breath quicken a little, and hoped my mouth wasn't hanging open as wide as it felt. I just sat there, in an understandably stunned silence.
He noticed, I'm sure, but said politely, "I'm Zac Hanson."
I found my tongue, and blushed, "Hi. I'm Brenna Mitchell."
With the grace of somebody who had met thousands of shocked strangers, he took it upon himself to continue the conversation, while my poor surprised brain got over the fact that I was sitting by Zac Hanson.
"I like air turbulance," he confirmed.
"Makes me sick," I managed to squeak out.
He laughed again. He laughed a lot. He was making me smile.
"It makes me sick too."
I giggled, "Wow, aren't we the two people that everybody can't wait to sit with."
He smiled at me, "So, where ya from?"
"Well, I move a lot. So, it depends on your definition of from. I just moved from Seattle."
"Cool! How long have you been there for?"
I blushed, "Four months."
I nodded, and fiddled with my the buttons on the armrest of my seat.
"We move around a lot, I guess you could say. I hate it. I miss my friends."
"I miss the ones I have time to make too," I admitted, before adding, "Sorry for complaining."
"No problem," he replied, "Know how you feel."
With that, he reached up, flicked the call button on, waited for a second, and flicked it off again. Smiling innocently, he watched the stewardess come to see who it was. He giggled, and I smiled at his small prank too. For a minute, we sat in silence.
"So, you hate moving?" he continued, after awhile.
I nodded quickly, "Very much. I never stick around long enough to make a good friend, you know?"
"I know. Or, 'cause you're famous, people can't talk to you anymore. I can't figure that one out," he twisted his lips into a cute, little grin.
"Sorry, can't help you there. I don't really have that problem. People see me, and instead of screaming because they are happy to see me, they scream because I scare 'em!"
He laughed, and replied, "Oh, I doubt that."
I blushed again, and turned to my window. We were landing. I sighed in dissappointment. I wanted to talk more with Zac. He understood.
Zac leaned over to look out the window, and grinned widely, "You make friends."
I smiled at his flattery, but contradicted, "Yeah right."
"You just made one," he boasted, almost proudly.
I was turning redder, and I knew it, "Oh yeah? Who?"
I knew my grin was reaching from one ear to another, and I laughed.
He shrugged, "Thank you! Anyway, got e-mail or something?"
"We're friends, right?"
"I believe that's what we've just established."
"Then we need to talk! So, here. E-mail me."
He scribbled something on a piece of paper, shoved it into my hand, and got up.
"See you later, Brenna."
"Nice meeting you, Zac, friend."