Betting on You

As if my day wasn’t shitty enough, my seat was right next to Little Miss The-Line-Is-Moving.

Wonderful.

She gazed up at me with big eyes and blinked fast, like she was shocked to see me, but she looked like one of those uptight girls who was always shocked when life wasn’t perfect. She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “One in a hundred and seventy-five, I would guess.”

For some reason, she made me want to mockingly repeat her words in a high-pitched voice. One in a hundred and seventy-five, I would guess. I looked longingly at the rows behind ours, stretching toward the back of the plane, and wondered if anyone would be interested in swapping seats.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

Also—of course that girl knew the number of seats in the plane.

The second I sat down, the phone in my hoodie pouch buzzed. I knew it was my mom, and I also knew that if I didn’t respond, she would keep sending messages.

I pulled it out and looked at the display.

Mom: Did you make it on time?

I leaned back a little in the cramped seat, way too fucking tall for flying.

I hated flying.

I replied: Yes.

I buckled my seat belt, but before I could even let out a sigh, my phone buzzed again. Mom: Did your dad go in with you, or just drop you at the door?

I reached into my pocket, needing a TUM already. After I popped two into my mouth, I ignored her question (because no good could come of the answer—dropped me at the door because parking was too expensive) and texted: Nana Marie said to tell you hi.

I knew that would stop the texts.

My mother and my grandmother had always been close, but as soon as my parents decided to divorce, that was history. Now my mom referred to her as “the old battle-axe,” and Nana Marie called my mother “that woman.”

Mature adults, right?

I rested my head on the back of the seat and tried to wrap my mind around the fact that summer was over. It seemed like days ago that I’d been pumped to fly to Alaska and spend the summer with my dad’s family, but now here I was, leaving them (and Grace) behind, flying back to life with my mom and her new boyfriend.

I was too damn old to feel this fucking homesick, especially when the plane hadn’t even taken off yet.

I felt a dull ache between my ribs as I pictured Grace, and I swear to God I could still smell the fruity mousse she used in her hair. My brain took off on an unwelcome montage that captured a summer full of Grace’s laughter, and I gritted my teeth.

Fuck me.

I put the phone back in my pocket, even though all I wanted to do was get lost in one of our mindless exchanges.

But there was no point in texting Grace. Like, ever again. Because relationships failed on a daily basis when people lived in the same fucking house. Relationships were doomed to fail period.

So the mere notion of a long-distance one? Total joke.

The only good that could come from staying in contact with Grace was that I might finally be depressed enough to take up songwriting or flirt with drinking.

Walking away—no, flying away—was absolutely the way to go.

One of the flight attendants started on the safety checklist, and I glanced over at Hall Monitor. She was attractive, but the braces and poofy hair weren’t doing her any favors. Her arms were still crossed, and she was listening so intently that I half expected her to pull out a binder and start taking notes.

Yeah, it was time to mess with her.

Messing with her in the boarding line had actually taken my mind off Grace for a few minutes, so perhaps it was karma that had assigned her uptight ass to the seat beside me. I’d been good all summer, so maybe karma knew I needed a distraction.

Maybe karma was a girl in glasses.