There are sixty four million people living in the country of Great Britain, about eight and a half million in London alone, and it seems like every single one of them is in this airport. I can’t even have a seat to myself; some kid keeps throwing his toys onto my lap and screaming until I throw them back. His ‘mummy’ has yet to notice, as she’s on a very important and very loud business call.
The loudspeaker, for the millionth time, crackled to life. “Flight 347 to Denver now boarding!” The voice squawked. Sure, the accent is appealing at first, but after about a month it becomes torture.
I stand up, knocking another bright, plastic toy from my lap onto the ground, and grab my bag and jacket. I try to ignore the baby’s cries of protest as I march away, head held high as always. People tell me I walk like I have a secret. My father always told me I walked like I had a thorn shoved up my backside.
The line to board the plane was short, but I could see people already racing to get on. Not surprising. Everyone wanted to get out of this scenic tourist trap. Just as I was about to slip into line, a woman with massive, curly brown hair rammed into me with the force of a linebacker. We both went crashing down; my jacket on top of her, her suitcase on top of me.
“What the heck-”
“I’m so sorry-”
It was a crumpled mess of shouting and yelling, kicking and thrashing. Did she not see me? Is she an jerk? I found my stuff as quickly as I could and hurried into line, leaving her in my dust.  My shirt was wrinkled, my hair was obviously a mess, and I probably had a nasty bruise starting to form on my back. The perfect way to get onto a flight. I threw my passport at the poor flight attendant before stomping into the tunnel. My jacket trailed on the floor.

Slinking into my seat, I began to calm down. Right by the window. I loved to watch the ground shrink beneath me and then disappear in the clouds... whoosh. As a child, I never got to fly. My mother was scared of the world and my father hated modern technology. He was all for preserving his culture, and he hated anything that screamed “White People”, like planes or bagel bites. I relished in thinking about how much he would hate sitting in these plastic seats and drinking from these foam cups. How much he would hate the way I loved it.
People were still piling onto the plane, shoving their massive bags into the overhead compartments. A baby had already started wailing, it’s mother staring absentmindedly out the window. I glanced up into the sky, imagining myself crashing through the clouds. This was the second flight I had ever been on in my life; the first was from my home in Idaho to here. I still felt new to this, and the euphoria I was experiencing was uncharacteristic. It was almost childlike.
But, all of my giddiness soared out the window as someone very familiar crashed into the seat next to me. Her curly, disheveled brown hair covered most of the seat, and her large leather bag took up the rest. She hadn’t turned to face me yet, thank god. Maybe she was blind and wouldn’t recognize me. Or maybe I gave her a concussion and she’d lost her memory.
“Oh. Hello, again.”
Crap.
“Hey,” I huffed, turning towards the window. She turned with me, trying to get my attention. Her hair bounced.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I really didn’t mean to run into you. I guess we were both just racing to get to our flight, huh?”
“Yep.”
“I’m Diana. I’d ask where you’re going, but it’s kind of obvious.” She giggled. Hilarious, I thought. I could practically feel every last ounce of joy spill out of me onto the floor. I was going to have to sit for ten hours next to someone who could’ve out-joyed Elmo. “What’s your name?”
“Missy.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name. Missy.”
“Oh! What an interesting name.” I wanted to puke. She was so sugary sweet, it was like nothing could phase her. Either she was beyond positive, or she was a total dits.
The flight attendants began to shuffle around their compartment and the speaker crackled to life. Our pilot informed us that we would be departing for Denver shortly. Apparently, “shortly” was pilot speak for “right this second”, because as soon as the voice fizzed out, the engines roared to life. I turned away from Diana and looked towards the window. We were taxied onto the landing field, and then we were airborne.
I could feel her looking over my shoulder, but the joy had returned to my body and I didn’t care. I could feel the pressure in my chest, in my ears. The ground started shrinking smaller and smaller, the world disappearing out from under me. I felt so small, yet so big. Then, we crashed through the clouds, engulfed in a flash of white for just a second, and then we were flying over a sea of clouds. My breathe caught in my chest. The last flight I had taken, that was at night. I could only hear the clouds breaking around me. This was different. The clouds seemed to glow and sparkle, like white snow caps. I was flying.
We soared for a while longer, and then the people in the cabin began to get up and move around, so I assumed the seatbelt light had been turned off. I unbuckled mine and curled my legs up, knees to my chest. Diana pulled her tray table down and pulled a small paperback from her bag. I glanced at the cover. Some romance novel. She didn’t seem that interested; she flipped to a random page and started reading, pursing her lips just slightly.
A perky flight attendant walked over to our section and asked us if we would like something to drink.
“Just water, thank you,” we said in unison. I glanced over at her and she giggled, of course. The attendant nodded and walked away.
“So,” Diana must have taken this as a cue to start talking. She had put her book down, not bothering to save her place. “Why are you headed for Denver?”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“The book. You were reading it just two seconds ago, and you didn’t even bother to save your spot.”
Diana looked down at her book and shrugged. “Oh, yeah. I do that sometimes. I don’t really care where I start in a book, because it’s like a new mini story every time I pick it up. Like this one; I don’t know who Tom is, or why Amanda is sleeping with him on a Tuesday night. And the last time I read it, Amanda was in jury duty and he was the defense attorney. It’s fun.”
Strange. I nodded and turned back to the window. I can tell she’s still staring at me, eyes big and gleeful, asking me with her smile to come and talk some more.
As much as I hate small talk, I hate sitting next to people who stare, so I humoured her. We talked about small stuff, why we were headed to Denver of all places, stuff like that.
“Why not?” She had responded when I asked. “Denver seems cooler than London, and it’s someplace new. You?”
“I haven’t been able to find a place to live here, so I picked the coolest sounding place and just... went.” I had been meaning to get out of London since day one. I moved her only to get away from my parents, but she didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know any of this, really, but after talking to her for a while, I couldn’t help but talk to her more.
She asked me about my tattoo, like I knew she would.
“I wanted a tattoo, but my father wouldn’t let me get anything unless it had something to do with “our heritage”, so that limited my options. I went with a wolf, which he liked, and I added my own little flare.”
“Heritage?” She questioned, tilting her head a little.
“He’s Nez Perce. All into preserving his culture and s***. I was almost named Hemene, which means ‘wolf’.” I don’t know why I was telling her all of this; she couldn’t possibly care. I met her eyes and, surprisingly, she was looking at me intently. She was interested. I could feel myself start to blush, which was unlike me. I wasn’t prone to nervousness, but people didn’t normally listen to me, either.
“I like Missy better,” she smiled. God, I was really blushing now. Crap. I could feel a foreign fluttering feeling in my chest. “So, you picked a wolf so your dad would be happy, and the skull-”
“That was my own personal touch.” The wolf head that perched on my shoulder was wrapped around a realistic human skull. It was gorgeously done; you could see the reflection in the wolf’s eyes, the hairline fractures on the skull. I had sat there for hours, knowing that when this was done my body would be art.
“I like it. I always wanted a tattoo, but I could never settle on a design.” Somehow, this didn’t surprise me. She scooted closer to me. “I’m kind of jealous now.”
The way she said it made my face turn to fire and my stomach do a back flip. I hadn’t felt this way in forever, so I turned away. Just, dropped the conversation. I didn’t care if I seemed rude, if I hurt poor Diana’s feelings. Whatever she was making me feel needed to stop.
You think she’s cute, the voice inside my taunted.
I do not, I shouted in my head. Besides, she’s a girl.
So? Since when has that stopped you? Do you remember Ana Greenwells?
Shut up, I could feel my face getting hot again. Darn it, I’m fighting with myself like a psycho.
She had the same laugh as Diana, but you just liked her curves-
Suddenly, the magazine in front of me seemed so beyond interesting. I flipped to a random page- Just like Diana would’ve done -and started skimming. After not even two pages, I couldn’t help it, I glanced over at Diana. She turned away sharply, like I caught her doing something. Like I caught her looking at me.
This plane ride was going to be torture.

At about the five hour mark, Diana got up to go to the restroom. As she got up, the woman across the isle smiled at me. I raised my eyebrow at her, and she gestured for me to come closer with her calloused, wrinkled hand.
“You fancy that girl don’t you?” she smiled. Before I could protest, she raised her hand up and chuckled. She looked like an old shaman, eyes worn with age, her mouth stretched. “Don’t lie; I can see that look. Don’t worry- she can’t see it. She fancies you, too, and fancying someone makes you blind to the world.”
“What do you-” I spoke too loudly. People turned towards us and I lowered my voice. “What do you mean she ‘fancies’ me? She can’t stand me.”
The woman laughed again. “She fancies you, alright.”
“She can’t stand me,” I repeated.
“Now, what makes you say that?”
“I tackled her before we boarded.”
The door to the bathroom creaked open and Diana squeezed out, swinging her hips around to maneuver herself though the small space. I sprang back into my seat and saw the old woman wink at me one more time before she returned to hers as well. I hope Diana didn’t see me.
Diana fell into her seat, her hair bouncing. I tried to hide my smile. The woman and the voice in my head were right; I did fancy her. A lot. She practically radiated life and happiness, and that smile...
“What?” Her voice snapped me back into reality. Oh, god, had I been staring? Her cheeks were flushed and I knew mine were, too. I had been staring. 
“Uh, nothing. Nothing.” I stammered.
“Oh,” she sighed, not a disappointed sigh, just a sigh of contentment. It was a cute sigh.
I couldn’t be starting to like this girl, could I? No, I wasn’t. I had buried that part of me deep inside since Ana Greenwells broke my heart, leaving it tender and bruised. After thinking about her name, the rest of her followed suit. I could see her smile in my mind as clear as day, see her curves. I could hear her laugh. Crap...
Ana was a year younger than me, a senior in high school who lived a block from my house in Lewiston. A little white house, with the picket fence and everything, the center window on the second floor looking into her room. Everyone knew she was gay; she didn’t keep it hidden, like me. Oh, was she gorgeous. Tall, with curves that could drive anyone crazy, and hypnotizing brown eyes. I had fallen hard, and I thought she had, too. We kept things quiet, mostly so my father wouldn’t disown me and I wouldn’t have to come out of the closet, until the night before she was going to leave for college. She told me she wanted to take me out on a date, a real date, not the secret ones we always had. She cried when I told her no. She screamed at me when I told her I didn’t want to. She bought me a dress and everything, Ana had yelled. I watched her rip the delicate yellow fabric straight down the middle. She refused to speak to me after that, and I decided I won’t fall for anyone again. I didn’t see the appeal. Problem was, I could see Diana’s appeal-
Stop it, I whispered to myself. I could feel Diana shifting next to me, moving her bag from one knee to the other, tugging at a loose ringlet of her hair. I felt like a pair of hands were tugging at my heart, pulling me back, begging me to ignore her for the rest of the flight. I didn’t want to get myself caught up in that again. Besides, once this plane lands, I’ll never see her again. We’ll part ways. It’ll be as simple as that.
Once this flight is over, I will never talk to her again.