Star Signs ✮ Malum

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"What do you mean you lost your passport?" Ashton sighs, rubbing his left temple.

It was nearly half way through the third day of Ashton being my supervisor and apparently he wasn't fully informed about his job description. As it turned out, the school aloud him to follow me around for my last day.

Not only did he come really close to knocking out Andrew after a few badly chosen words, he arrived back from the bathroom just in time for the lone microwave in the cafeteria to explode. If anyone asks, I had nothing to do with it and it's purely coincidental that I've decided against making my own popcorn.

"Funny story, I'm sure I'll have you in stitches by the end, you see... Woah look at that!" I shout, pointing out the cab's window on his side. The yellow car pulled up to the airport just in time for me to race out, waving my little black passport in the air and giggling to myself.

Ashton had made it pretty clear when he woke me up an hour earlier that there was no time for food and I would have to wait until we landed in America.

Which, might I add, is a fifteen and a half hour flight.

I'm a hormonal teenage boy, having no food for more than a half a day is not going to fly. Which is precisely why I'd taken a few minutes to study the layout of the Sydney Airport's food court.

While I was in line for Macca's an arm landed across my shoulders and hot breath was practically heaved against my neck.

"I can feel your sweat seeping into my shirt." I whine, throwing Ashton's large gorilla arm off me.

"We're going to miss our flight if you don't start moving." Ashton sighed, checking his wristwatch quickly.

I scoffed, "I timed this perfectly, I have exactly..." Checking my phone, my eyes nearly pop out of my skull, "Thirty seconds to get on the plane! Dammit."

"We better get going then." Ashton replied, chuckling like my starvation was some kind of joke. As if the lack of food in my stomach was some kind of outrageous punch line.

And that's how Ashton and I ended up running full force through a crowded airport while I complained about the ripping hunger I was feeling.

+ + + +

"I swear I'm going to punch you in the liver." I growl, leaning over my armrest so I can glare at Ashton more intensely.

"Oh yeah? Where exactly is my liver?" Ashton snorts, stuffing complimentary on flight peanuts into his face. More specifically, my complimentary on flight peanuts.

"Screw punching you in the liver, maybe I'll just push you down the stairs when we get off." I grumble, turning my attention toward the movie that was playing on screen.

"Should'a staked that fucker when you first found out Bella, you wouldn't be having these problems if you did!"

+ + + +

"Whoa, who're they waiting for?" I ask, waddling down the terminal because my ass had reached a state of numbness that I didn't think possible over two hours ago.

"I don't know... Maybe they got word that a soon to be co-stars with Michael Clifford was on the plane." Ashton muttered sarcastically, shoving me forward to maintain a steady pace.

"Hey Ash?" I ask, flashing him a quick grin to which he immediately lets out a groan at.

"Yeah?"

"What's green and has wheels?" I ask, pushing past the paparazzi who didn't seem to know who they were supposed to photograph. They switched between asking around and snapping pictures of random people.

"I don't know." Ashton said, having realized it was the beginning a joke and not important information he was automatically disinterested. He picked up his pace, making an effort to edge his way through the crowd. Like he thought walking faster meant he would out run the punch line.

"Grass." I smirk, watching his eyebrows furrow slightly. A camera flashes in my face, and I blink a few times.

"Excuse me?" He says, turning toward me with a dumbfounded expression.

"Grass." I repeat casually, stuffing my hands into my pockets as we wait for our luggage to come into view on the conveyor belt. It would be hard, I realized, like most of my pairs of pants, my luggage is black.

"What the fuck, Hood? Grass doesn't have wheels." Ashton sighs, leaning against the closest wall and looking plain tired of me.

It would have been funny if you were high.

I shrugged, tugging a bag that I vaguely remember looking somewhat like mine. After quick inspection, I had to roll my eyes. Mali changed the tags so it said Calum T. Hood... She'll never let me forget that damn poem.

"Pardon me?" A feminine voice asks, as I feel a tug on the back of my t-shirt.

"Are you the bass player in 5 Seconds of Summer?" The girl asks, probably around thirteen with a rolled up poster clutched against her chest.

"Who?" I'd never heard of this band in my life. Probably some mainstream boy band.

And suddenly the little girl's facial expression changes to the closest thing that can describe business, she flicks her wrist with purpose to unravel her poster. "Is this not you?" She asks, pointing her little digit toward an equally tanned boy among three other lads.

Maybe I miss judged them, two were wearing leather jackets and the others wore Misfits tank tops, one being the boy she was pointing at.

I snort, "Look at that chump." I turn around and tug Ashton over.

"Hey, do you think that guy looks like me?" I ask, nodding my head toward the poster.

"Nah, you've got this blonde strip going on and that guy looks straight. Plus he's got tattoos, you look like a wuss." I don't know if he was saying that to reassure me that I didn't look like that nerd or just to insult me.

Ashton's phone buzzed before I could say anything cutting toward him.

"Our ride's here, let's get going." He says, walking slowly towards the exit while staring at his phone.

"So you're not him?" The girl asks, startling me a bit because I'd forgotten she was even there.

"Nope." I answer, popping out the 'p' absentmindedly, not really feeling up for walking at the moment. Even if it was just to a car.

"Oh." Her reply was nearly inaudible, so quiet that if my stomach had chosen to growl when she spoke I wouldn't have heard her.

She began rolling up her poster with her head hung low.

"Wait." I groan quietly, searching my pockets for something to write with.

"I may not be him but I'm going to be someone very soon. And you'll be the first person to ever have an autograph." I laugh, unrolling the poster for her.

I sign my name sloppily over the doppelgänger's head and drew a moustache on him. Then proceeded to draw something that might be considered a sombrero, because he looked kind of Mexican with that moustache.

What a nerd.

"See you on the big screen." I add, picking up my luggage and walking to where Ashton was waiting.

We duck into a sleek black car and we're off to God knows where.

"Hey Ash?" I give him a large, careless smile.

"Yeah?"

"I lied about the wheels."