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unexpectedly assaulted my body. Sweat droplets steadily formed and increased in number as I wiped them off with my sleeves. I quickly peeled away my sweatshirt, hoping it might lower my body temperature, but it’s pointless. This heat was nothing like I’ve experienced back home. It’d take some adjusting to embrace this new tropical climate.
    We single filed through the agonizing customs line with our paperwork and passports. I looked around and saw tons of eager vacationers in their flip flops and shorts ready to take in this tropical paradise. The heat was unbearable, making the wait seem so much longer. After half an hour or more, we both made it through the St. Croix entrance and security. Richard and I gathered our luggage and trudged outside.
    “There he is ,” Richard pointed out. I see a man dressed in a dark navy suit with ‘Stevens’ written on a sign. Richard waved his hand for the man to acknowledge us. Thank god he spotted him quickly. We gladly made our way towards his driver as I continued to dab new perspiration off my forehead; my crimson and white Indiana University sweatshirt now served a different purpose. Richard considerately offered to take my backpack and suitcase for me, but I declined. I’m very independent and not too keen on being catered to.
    “Hello , Mr. Stevens. Welcome to St. Croix. I’m Benton,” he politely greeted Richard and offered him a welcoming handshake.
    “Thank you for your promptness , Benton,” Richard replied and then gestured to our belongings. Our larger suitcases were taken to another vehicle by his helper while Benton guided us to a gleaming, silver BMW Z5 and bestowed Richard a key fob for his new ride. The sight of his expensive sports car altered my mood instantly. I blamed greed and money for my mom’s unhappiness and indirectly mine. I also hated the way some of the wealthy kids acted at my school. They snubbed people like me who didn’t have much money and excluded me from their cliques.
    “ All is handled by your parents. Enjoy this fabulous car, Mr. Stevens.”
    “Tha nk you, Benton,” Richard replied and then sauntered around to the passenger side to open and close the door for me. What a considerate gentleman, I noted. He started the engine, and I welcomed the refreshing cool air as it blew life back into my body. “Seatbelts,” he reminded me and activated the GPS with his deep, sexy, British-accented voice. We would be there in about fifty-five minutes according to the navigation calculation.
    Richard ’s eyes remained cautiously focused on the dangerously winding road, and would occasionally sneak a glance here and there over at me. I pretended not to notice. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him yet. He seemed genuinely nice and respectful. And why would it matter how you feel about him? I asked myself. I was just bumming a ride from him and then we’d part our ways when we reached our destination.
    I decide d to focus my attention outside to the scenic views of aqua blue water and pristine, white sandy beaches instead. As I looked out further into the distant horizon, I saw beautiful yachts and several cruise ships. The land was painted with lush tropical green plants full of vibrant pink and red floral blooms. I lowered the window on my side for a brief minute to inhale the scent of sea water. It smelled better than I imagined, so raw and organic. This kind of luxury was novel to me. I came from a modest family that had no opportunities for vacations to beautiful paradises like this.
    The breat htaking ocean views gradually washed away as we drove deeper into an impoverished and underprivileged part of the island. Dry desert and cactus plants replaced lush vegetation land. I was stunned. The homes were plain, and the people were modestly dressed. I saw children running around in the streets in tattered sandals with farm animals. They seemed content, even with so little. People migrated to our car with handmade trinkets and fruits, pleading