Strings Of Harmony

♫10♫ Why Must I Sit Next To You?

Chapter Ten

Why Must I Sit Next To You?

"Hyde, can you please help me carry this downstairs?" I asked, as I lugged my suitcase towards the edge of the stairs.

"You can do it yourself, you know," came the voice of my brother from downstairs.

Today was the day when my friends and I were supposed to board the plane for Los Angeles. Our flight was at three in the afternoon and currently, it was eleven in the morning. I stayed up all night yesterday just to finish packing everything. My suitcase weighed like a bazillion pounds. I think I packed mostly all of my clothing in...oh and make-up...tons of it.

"Mom? Dad?" I shouted. My parents had taken a day off from work today so they could drive my brother and me to the airport.

"Yes, sweetheart?" asked my mom, as she headed up the stairs.

"You can help me with this, right?" I looked pleadingly at her and gave her my best puppy eyes.

Unlike my brother, my dad, and me, my mom did not have brown hair. She had blonde hair instead. Her eyes though, were like mine: bright and blue. My mom was a few inches shorter than me and I would usually tease her about it.

"Not at the moment, since I am making your brother and you some breakfast. I think your dad can, though. Why don't you go ask him?"

"Fine. Dad?" I hollered.

"Coming!" I heard my dad say, as I heard the sound of his footsteps getting closer and closer to where I was. "What up, kiddo?"

"Help me get these down the stairs, please?" I gestured towards the suitcase.

"I will be right on it," he said, as he went up the stairs. He took the suitcase into his hands and then dragged it downstairs. "Wow, what do you have in here?" he asked, out of breath.

"Clothes...make-up...books...a lot of stuff," I said, as I made my way towards the kitchen. "What's for breakfast, mom?"

"Oatmeal, pop tarts, and pancakes."

"Nice."

"That oatmeal better not be cinnamon flavored," warned Hyde, as he grabbed a bowl from the cupboard.

"Of course not; I know how much you hate cinnamon," said mom. She took the bowl from Hyde and then poured in some oatmeal.

"We're going to drop you off at the airport at noon," said dad, as he came into the kitchen.

"But our flight isn't until three," I said.

"And that's exactly why you should be there three hours early," said mom. "The airport is pretty big, hon. It'll take you guys a while to find the terminal where your flight is."

I groaned. "I hate airplanes."

"Why? I love airplanes," said Hyde. "I get this feeling that I'm flying whenever I'm on one. And the view is breathtaking. The houses look like squares and the grass looks as if someone painted it."

"Well, the last time I went on an airplane, I threw up halfway through our flight. Don't you remember?"

Hyde frowned. "You did?"

"Yeah. The time we went to Hawaii?"

"Oh yeah, you did!" he said, as he smirked at me. "That was pretty funny."

"No, it wasn't!" I said, stomping on his foot. Since Hyde and I were sitting across from each other at the dinner table, the abrupt stomping-of-his-foot caused Hyde to hit his knee on the table.