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yourself.”
    The little girl was still crying and wrapped herself ti ghter around Zoey ’s legs. And at that exact moment, the wheels of my suitcase jammed against the uneven sidewalk, pulling Zoey ’s attention over to me. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and quickly looked away. She gave the little girl one last kiss and strode through the doors ahead of me without a single glance back .
    Unfortunately m y parents were still following me. They were so freakin embarrassing sometimes. I saw the group up ahead by the counter , and walked ahead of my parents. It was time for my mom to cut the cord. Zoey got there a second before I did. I wondered if Mr. Rhinehart would give her a hard time for yesterday , but he seemed particularly jolly for a Sunday morning. It was exceptionally impressive given that the day ahead of us would involve two planes and sixteen hours total travel time until we landed in Paris . My mom talked to Mr. Rhinehart for a second, then gave me a hug. My dad shook my hand and told me to be careful, and they turned to leave, thank God.
    After getting through security, our group spent the hour and a half wait ing to board by lounging around in the seating area we’d taken over. A group of kids went off to get their last fix of American fast food for a week, but I pulled my cap low on my head and listened to music until it was finally time to board.
    I slid in to the window seat, scooting my way around Cho, the mathlete , and Zoey who was in the middle. I pulled out my iPod and shuffled through until I found the Zen - like playlist I’d created for the flight. I didn’t particularly like flying and thought this might help. Plus, I didn’t want to find out if the altitude would play havoc on my headaches.
    I pulled open the window shade and leaned my head against the coo l glass, watching the crew load suitcases into the belly of the plane. I was about to pop in my ear buds when I heard Zoey drawing deep breaths next to me . I looked over and saw her eyes were closed and her chest rising and falling systemically. She was sucking air in through her mouth and blowing it out through her nose.
    “Stare, much?” she asked, catching me.
    I stuck one ear bud in, leaving the other dangling. “Sorry, I just… Y ou don’t like flying, huh?”
    “What gave you that idea?”
    “It’s okay, I’m not particularly fond of it either,” I admitted.
    Then she swallowed and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “No, it’s just I’ve actually never been on a plane before.”
    I watched her for a second to be sure she wasn’t messing with me , but she seemed to be telling the truth . “I n that case — you should switch seats with me.” Her eyebrow shot up, looking confused. “It’s definitely better to be able to see what’s going on, trust me. It helps you feel more in control.” I unb uckled my seat belt. “Come on, take the window seat .” I half stood in front of my seat . If she didn’t get up soon I was going to look like an idiot crouched here for no reason.
    She unbuckled her seat belt and we awkwardly scooted around each other, trading places in the cramped space between the seats. I felt my crotch rub up against her back, but pretended not to notice.
    I watched Zoey look out the window and take stock of our surroundings. We were just over the wing, so it somewhat blocked our view, but we could still see that the crew was just about finished loading the belly of the plane with suitcases . Zoey looked back at me and lifted one corner of her mouth. I think it was supposed to be a smile, but it wasn’t something I was used to seeing on her, so it was hard to say.
    “It’s okay to be afraid of flying,” I said. “Lots of people are.” I dug through my bag and took out a pack of cinnamon gum. “Gum?” I held the pack out to her. She shook her head.
    “I’m not afraid of flying,” she said.
    I made a point of looking down at her hands gripping the ends of the arm