Work In Progress

A bad thought through plan

I did not think this through. I really did not think this through. 

The traffic light above me is red but I ignore it as I hear the car coming closer. My only advantage in this chase is my extended knowledge of the roads in my hometown, Amsterdam. The roads here can get very narrow and in some cars are not allowed. I can't go back to the temporary home I was put in for the last few days. If he can find my school, he must know where I live now. Not that I need anything from that mouldy, nasty smelling house. I don't have any belongings. Everything I owned burned in the fire. The only thing that made it out of the house was me, the clothes on my body, my phone and the necklace I was given for my 17th birthday on the day of the fire. Inside was a picture of me and my parents. It was now my most prized possession. I take a right and left and race over the bridge. I seem to have shaken the car off when I turn into a narrow, bicycle-only lane. I race through the Vondelpark and almost hit a pedestrian. I respond to the angry exclamation with my middle finger. 

After 10 minutes of recklessly biking I realise where I am. As I turn around the corner the smell of burned wood fills the air. I slow down and stop right in from of it. This is the place I grew up in, now it is ashes. My throat closes and my eyes well with tears. Now the police tape has been removed and the constant crowd has cleared after days, it is just me. Just me and the memory of my parents. I reach down my shirt and pull my necklace up from under my shirt. The picture of the happy smiling family inside seems like an unreal scene. Something that seems too good to be true. I slump down against the lantern on the sidewalk and look at the scene in front of me. I took it for granted. Every single time my dad and I danced in the kitchen to a new song I showed him, every time my mom and I sat at the dining room table whilst she taught me how to sew, every single discussing during dinner that ended up in laughter. Tears are now streaming down my face as I clutch the necklace. The only thing left of the memories now is ashes and the smell. That smell that haunts me ever since. Every time someone walked past me smoking or when a candle is blown out I am brought back to that horrible night. 

I do not realise how dark it is getting until the lantern above me is turned on. I look up at the sky, looks like it is about to rain. My stomach growls and I get up. I cannot sit here forever. I need to find a place to stay and some food. As I lift my bike off the ground a car pulls up behind me. The front light shines on me so, as I turn around I am blinded. Shit, is it Christopher? I can't see. I want to cycle away as an arm grasps me around my waist and pulls me off my bike. "Godverdomme, let me go!" I scream as I try to escape. I am thrown in the backseat of the car. A familiar smell of cologne causes me to look up. "Did you really think I would not find you?" Christopher smiles. "I could at least try." I scold at him. I try the door but it is locked. "That won't work Ava, I won't let you run again." I cross my arms and look out of the window. Looks like we are going to Schiphol. "Martin, will you please inform the pilot to get ready for take-off?" Christopher asks the driver. "Why are you so reluctant to go with me?" Christophers turns to me again. "I don't want to leave my life here." "Ava, you have nothing here anymore, you have no family, no friends, what is holding you back?" I look at him and scowl; "I do have friends and a life and you cannot take that away from me." That is a lie, I did not have friends in Amsterdam. The only friend I had moved away a year ago and we lost touch. Ever since then I had difficulty making friends in the already existing friend groups at my school.  I guess I became kind of a loner. "Really, so in the last week you just ignored said friend for no reason?" "Excuse me, what?!" I exclaimed. "Have you been following me? Creep." "I did not, my private detective did. He reported that you had no contact with peers at school or outside of school." Fuck. 

My eyes are turned to the outside again. We seem to have arrived at Schiphol but we are not parking by the terminals. Instead, we are driving to a smaller hangar with a smaller jet. Does this man have a private jet? "So you are rich-rich, huh." "I have a very well running business called Astor Aviation, we design planes. This beauty is a XA200, one of the new models." I glace up at the cream white plane. The Mercedes comes to a hold and we all get out. From the side of the plane, a small staircase emerges. I follow Christopher into the place. The interior is the same cream colour with shining wooden finishes of the table and the two chairs. "You know, I always tried to recruit your dad to work with me but he always liked his job as a teacher too much." I smile at Christopher, it is true. My father always told me he was born to be a primary school teacher. He loved working with children. "I understand that working in an office would absolutely drive him crazy." We sit down in the comfortable leather chairs. Martin walks over to us with two plates with what seems like dutch pancakes. "I thought you might be hungry. These pancakes are always my go-to when in The Netherlands." We dig in, I did not realise how hungry I was. "So how about you Ava, are you the same as your father or your mother," Christopher asks. "your mother was a banker right?" I shake my head; "My mom was a lawyer, and I guess I am kinda both. I do really good in school but I am also really creative. I guess I am really a mix of my parents." He gives me a soft smile. "You really look like them too." I have my fathers small and flat body, not that many curves and my mothers long brown hair, blue eyes and plump lips. "How long until we are there?" I ask as I let a small yawn escape. "Nine more hours, so try to get some sleep. There is a bed in the back where you can sleep." I follow Christopher's eyes to a door behind him that leads to a room in the tail of the plane. "Thanks, Christopher, Goodnight." "Goodnight Ava," Christopher exclaims "Oh, and you can call me Chris." "Goodnight Chris." 

I enter the small bedroom in the same style as the rest of the plane that holds a small double bed. On top of the bed is a white pyjama set made of white silk. I quickly undress and put on the soft fabric. As I lie down in the bed the light automatically turns off. Even though I am tired I can't sleep. When I woke up this morning I did not think my day would end in a private jet with a friend of my dad on my way to start a new life. The idea of going to a place where no one knows who I am and about my parents seems appealing. A fresh start with a guardian that is still quite a stranger. Although, I am beginning to like him a little more now. He seems to actually want to get to know me. I just don't know much about him, the only thing I know is that he lives in America, that he is very rich. Oh, and he had two sons. Wait, fuck, he has two sons.