I pushed off the seat and made my way back to Madison, pulling up her blanket and resting her head on my lap. I moved hair off her face, my thumb circling her hard cheekbone. I wanted to know what was happening with my dad and mom, and why they both stayed behind. Actually, all of the elders stayed behind. My thumb halted its movements as I looked around the plane. All of our generation and Spyder’s generation were here, while the rest were back at Perdita. Odd. But whatever their reasoning, I’d hear about it when they came home.
“B? Can we talk?”
My jaw clenched.
“Please?”
I looked down to Madison before slowly getting back to my feet and placing her head on the seat. I led Khales toward the back of the plane, away from any ears just in case no one knew about her and my dad. “What?” I snapped, unable to stop my jaw from clenching.
“I’m sorry about what happened back there. I misjudged Madison, and you, and I guess—” She stopped, her eyes falling to her fingers. “I’m sorry, Bishop. When I first came back, I was so angry and enraged by how you had moved on. I hated her so much.” She took in a deep breath, and I took this time to study her face. I knew Khales inside and out. I knew when she was lying, when she was happy, sad, or both. I knew if she was hiding any emotion from me. She was transparent to me, unlike Madison who was like a closed fucking book.
“I lost my shit for a bit, B, but you know me, you know I’m not vindictive, and I see it now.”
“See—what?” I tilted my head at her.
“I see how you are with her.”
I leaned on the wall. “She doesn’t like you.”
“I know.”
“Which means our friendship will never go back to how it was.”
Her face fell. “I know.”
“Then I wish you and my dad well.” I pushed off the wall and headed back to Madison. Just as I slipped back into my seat, I chuckled. “Oh, and good luck with Mom.”
Khales flinched but slowly went back into her seat. I did care about her once upon a time…
I liked riding my bike. I liked riding it even more when it was heading in the opposite direction of my house. I couldn’t stand it. So there I was, on my silk black BMX, equipped with handlebars that had been dipped in chrome, riding toward the other side of town. With my hoodie thrown up over my head, and my jeans hanging off of my hips and my skater chain dangling off my belt loop, I was riding to where I always went when it became too much at home. When the air became tight and the tension would be close to snapping. Most parents loved each other, whereas mine barely tolerated each other. A car honked from the other side of the road and I kicked my feet back to hit the brakes, skidding to a halt. Turning toward the car, my eyes narrowed. I knew that I shouldn’t have stopped. I was young—pretty much still a child. Eight, to be exact. I’m not exactly legally allowed to be riding across town on my own, so without a second glance, I peddled forward and made my way to Newtown Beach. It always took around twenty minutes to get there, and today was no exception. I came to a halt, kicking my bike stand out and looking out to the trailer park.
In a clean layout, there were roughly around twenty metal moveable homes all parked. All with different designs, and obviously, you could see who had the most pride. It ranged from old OCD grandma with florals and cats, to old bins strewn over front yards and rusted swing sets that had seen one too many days in the sun and rain, and not enough being ridden on. My attention went straight to the metal grey trailer I was familiar with. The dents and scratches were clearly visible, even with a brief glance. This trailer was a neglected as the child who resided in it. Not to stereotype trailer parks, because some of them here had blossoming flowers lining their walls and gardens, along with a couple of lazy chairs and tables set up nicely, this one didn’t. There wasn’t a spec of pride that whistled off of this trailer, and like always, I headed straight for it. I was just about to tread across the fake grass that had long faded from its unnatural plastic of green to a dingy shade of yellow, when the metal door swung open, smashing against the side of the beat-up oversized shit-hole as Khales stormed out, her long brown hair sticking to her heart-shaped face.