“If you snitch on me, I’ll end you,” I say.
“Not snitching. I really want you out there with me. It’s the only reason I’m not completely freaking out right now.”
I’m not freaking out, either, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’m committed. I’ll have to lie in the worst way possible and scare the shit out of my parents to get out there, but I’ll call them the second Jackson and I land, so they know I’m safe. I’ll fly home on Wednesday and I’ll be punished forever, but it’s worth it. I have to see how you lived.
The doorbell rings.
“Let me get that.” I rush out of bed and open the door to find Wade standing there with an aluminum tray; I can smell cupcakes. He baked them for my birthday this year. I can see one of th
e ties you bought him peeking out from underneath his coat.
“Sorry to stop by unannounced,” Wade says. “You weren’t answering my texts and I wanted to see how you were doing, since Thursday . . .”
His voice trails off.
Jackson comes out of my room with an empty glass on his way to the kitchen. He waves. “Wade, hey. How’s it going?”
Wade’s eyes narrow. He turns away from Jackson and back to me. “What the hell is going on?” He’s quiet, but the question sinks in as if he shouted it. “You won’t talk to me but you’re hanging out with the guy that made your life hell?”
My lips feel dry. “Things have changed,” I say. I want to close the door on him.
Wade closes his eyes, fighting back tears, and shakes his head. “Clearly. You’re no longer suffering alone, unlike me. Real nice, Griffin. You’re so fucking selfish.”
I should tell Wade about the trip. But he might react the same way as my parents. I can’t risk this for him.
I am selfish.
Wade drops the tray at my feet. “Hope you both enjoy.” He storms away and slams the door behind him, the noise echoing through the hallway.
I can’t chase after him, Theo. I have to get ready. I have a flight to catch.
Monday, December 12th, 2016
Can you believe it, Theo? I’m in an airplane, ready to take off.
I’m going to California with Jackson, and I’m fighting back a freak-out. I have to keep it together before I get kicked off. Before I prove my parents right that I’m probably not in the best state to be doing this.
I’m not a fan of what I had to do. Jackson hates it too, but it didn’t stop him from pulling the cab over a couple of blocks away after he said goodbye to me and my family, so I could join him. I only have a small backpack with me. My parents think it’s full of books and notebooks for a fake trip to the coffee shop to work on make-up assignments. It’s actually stuffed with shirts, underwear, a phone charger, and a toothbrush. I have the other essentials in my wallet—cash, starter debit card, ID, ticket.
I hope you’ll also forgive me for lying. I’m doing it for you.
We’re in row fourteen and I’m seat number one. Good row number, okay seat number. But this panic attack has been crawling my way since we arrived at the airport. I didn’t count on all the lines and the brief flight delay. I try buckling my seatbelt, but it’s different than car seatbelts, and Jackson assists me without asking, which startles me for a second because he’s so close to my dick. But within seconds he’s done and I’m fastened in; I can’t help but feel as if he’s trapped me here, like a straitjacket.
“How are you doing?” Jackson asks.
I shake my head and twist my ring finger, the trick you taught me.
Jackson reaches into his backpack and pulls out a copy of last month’s Entertainment Weekly. “This’ll help you take your mind off of it.”
I go straight for the movie reviews, but in no time a flight attendant calls for our attention and delivers all sorts of safety instructions about where to find oxygen masks and how to locate exit doors. Jackson is reading his own magazine, which annoys me a little because he’s responsible for me on this flight. “Do you have this memorized?”
He answers me by quoting the flight attendant and mimicking her movements. “I’ve flown a few times,” Jackson says. “We’re going to be okay.”
Within minutes the plane is moving down the runway and it feels like driving down the highway. Except cars don’t pick up speed the way this planes does; cars never make me so nervous that I grab the door handle the way I’m gripping the armrest. Cars don’t shake violently like this. Cars definitely don’t lift at the front and take off into the air.
Jackson’s hand rests on top of mine, hesitantly. I don’t pull away, and his hand expands, holding mine. “How are you feeling?”
The plane swerves left and I’m certain this is it; we’re going to crash. I look out the window during this shift and it’s sad how this plane didn’t even get high enough to make the people in the freezing city below seem small, like ants in the snow. The plane finds its center. The captain announces our flight will be a little over five hours and that attendants will be around shortly with refreshments.