My day starts at 4:30 AM to finish packing, and at 5:00, we grab a breakfeast at McDonald's of french fries and milkshakes. The flight to Rochester would take about two hours and left at 7:30 AM, and the flight to Montauk was cancelled, so I'd have to take a plane to New York City and from there fly to Block Island which would take about three hours, from which we'd drive to Port Mallory.
"Are you excited?" Mom asks, while we drive to the airport.
"Yeah." I smile, looking out the window at the dark streets. We're in a better part of Chicago, so our windows have been rolled down, since it's a humid night. "I just can't wait to see the old house again."
"Yeah, you should send us pictures." Dad says. Although it was his decision to move away from Port Mallory, he seemed pretty nostalgic and even has a jar of sand from the beach.
"I promise." I nod.
"Awesome. We're here, I'll drop you off and we'll send you off to your flight, someone from the airport will be escorting you to Block Island." Dad says, as he drives up to the front of the airport. "Mom will take you in, I got to get to work."
"What about Mom's work?" I ask.
"I'm getting a taxi." Mom says, opening the car door.
We grab my suitcases and bag out. The suitcases would hold me down with outfits for two weeks until Mom and Dad shipped me the rest of my clothes.
"Bye, Olivia." Dad says, getting out and hugging me. "See you on Skype."
He waves as me and Mom walk in, and then drives away. Mom walks me to the security checkpoint, and then my escort is waiting for me past there.
"Bye, Olivia." Mom kisses my forehead, as they start boarding for my flight. I wave, and walk to security.
I've been on a plane lots of times, to Phoenix to visit my grandparents, to London for vacation, to Hawaii for the Eighth Grade School Trip (in sixth grade we go to a sleepover at the science museum, in seventh we go to Washington, D.C., and in eighth we go to Hawaii), and even to Liberia in Africa for a volunteer trip my parents took one summer. It shouldn't be a big deal anymore to go on a plane.
Yeah, uh, no. It kind of still is a big deal. That rush you feel when you take off and the turbulence is so frightening . . . heh. Yeah. Unfortunately, my parents already bought me all the tickets. Andrew is already expecting me. But I'm having second thoughts.
After the flight to Rochester, and then to NYC, I'm finally on the flight to Block Island mid-day. As I munch on a bag of peanuts, I watch the ocean waters wizz by, and then suddenly, a patch of land comes into view. Block Island! The plane starts it's routine of landing, and as the ground gets closer and closer, I feel more and more at home and more more nauseous. Finally, we land. YES, YES, YES!! SWEET LAND! SWEET, SWEET, LAND!
I've been flying on planes all day, don't judge me!
As we get off the plane, it's such a relief to be on a reliable planet with no turbulence. I wish I could kiss the ground, but that'd be weird. I enter the airport, and after getting to the front part, I see Andrew waving at me. I wave back and run to him, then jump into his arms for a big hug.
"Hey, Olivia! Long time no see, eh?" Andrew hugs me tight, his body heat radiating off him. "Shayna is getting some food, so how about we go pick up your bags. Where do you pick them up?"
"Number two." I point to the conveyor belt, which has already started to spit out bags. Me and Andrew run to it and he lus my two suitcases off when they come.
"How much is in here?" Andrew asks.
"Enough outfits and other things for two weeks until Mom and Dad send me the other stuff." I shrug.
"Alright, then." Andrew smiles. "Oh, I see Shayna. HEY, SHAYNA! OVER HERE!"
Shayna runs over.
"Hey, there, Olivia! Hows it hanging?" She asks.
"In a tree." I shrug. "So, how long is it to Port Mallory from here again?"
"Ten minutes." Andrew shrugs. "Come on, let's go. I want to get some lunch."
We drive into New Shoreham and to a Mexican restaurant. We order a few tacos and a plate of nachos, then start driving to Port Mallory, on the other side of the island. Port Mallory is so small, it only has a small population of about a thousand people. There isn't even a school, we're expected to go to New Shoreham for school. It looks the same old, same old though. The docks have the same boats, the fishers the same accent. It's good to be back.
Eventually I start to recognize the neighborhood. That's the Pedersons', and then there's the Wilks', and Johnson's, and then . . . there's our house.
The old house my great-great grandparents built from scratch, made out of white brick, dark green roofing and shutters, crystal clear windows, sitting on our bay, Colette Bay. Not anyone else's bay. Our own Colette Bay.
We park the car, and Shayna and Andrew help me with my bags inside.
"You'll have to sleep in a sleeping bag, your bed we ordered from Ikea hasn't come yet." Andrew says, lugging in my suitcase.
"Isn't there a furniture store in New Shoreham?" I ask.
"Nope." Shayna shakes her head. "It's a small town."
"Remember when we first moved to Chicago and you were amazed at how big it was?" Andrew says.
"Yeah, I didn't know a city could be that big, I thought New Shoreham was already large." I shrug, and I hear someone yelling "Olivia! Olivia!"
I turn around, to see Mitchell, my old friend, running across the road from his house to mine.
"Hi Mitchell!" I grin. Wow. Mitchell has gotten HOT! Sandy blonde hair, deep blue eyes, strong jawline, muscles, let me repeat, HOT.
"It's great to see you here again." Mitchell smiles.
"I know, pretty crazy." I nod. "You look . . . different."
"You do too. You're so tall and your hair, it used to be a lot lighter too." Mitchell nods. "So, how's Chicago?"
"You know, the regular. Crime rates still high, population big, skyscrapers tall. How's school? Oh, and how's our old groupie?" I ask.
"Oh, you mean Kelly and Dustin?" Mitchell asks. "They're pretty much the same. Dustin is gay, though."
"Mm." I nod. "Not surprising. What about Kelly?"
"Straight."
"No, I just mean in general."
"Oh, she's great." Mitchell says. "Doesn't hang out with me and Dustin as much, she like hanging out with Erika more."
"Erika?" I nearly vomit. Erika Hudson, when she moved to Block Island she pretty much ruined the vibe of small town goodness. She was from NYC, and she kept bragging she's a descendant of Henry Hudson, the guy the Hudson River is named after. Also, Erika had the best of everything us small-towners didn't-clothing, technology, furniture, everything except for personality. I went to a sleepover at her house once; hated it. She made me prank call Mitchell. He had caller ID. Really mortifying.
"Don't worry, Erika's changed." Mitchell waves it off. "Really, you'll like her. She's a nice person."
"Nice? Don't you remember her from third grade?"
"She's awesome, don't worry about it." Mitchell shrugs. "Anyways, we're all going to get some ice cream in New Shoreham later, want to come?"
"Sure. What time?" I ask.
"It's later tonight at seven. Then we're going to the beach and having a small bonfire with some of the other kids from school. It's a great chance to re-know everyone."
"That sounds good." I smile. "I'll have to ask my brother, but he'll be chill about it."
"Awesome! We might do some swimming at night, so wear a bathing suit under your clothes. I should go, my parents only let me come over for a few minutes. I'll see you later!" Mitchell quickly runs back to his house.
"Bye." I give a tiny wave, my heart thumping. Oh god, I'm in love with my childhood friend.
YOU ARE READING
Swimming With The Current (Wattys2015)
FantasyI've been swimming with the current my whole life, just going with things. Moving away from the town I was born in? Okay. Moving to downward spiral seeming Chicago? Okay. Moving back to Port Mallory? Yes. Becoming a mermaid and competing with my riv...
