by Kevin Craig
“Sorry, what the hell?” She’s still looking at us, completely miffed that we haven’t flown before. Either she’s showing off or she’s just more of a bitch than I thought she was. Either way, it’s obvious I pegged her right. I can smell a rich girl a mile away. “How does that even happen?”
“I don’t know where you come from, Shania,” Manny says, “but where I live… I’m probably the first one in my neighborhood to even see an airport up close. Doesn’t make you special you were on a plane before, princess.”
We’re bonding. Nice.
“I’m just saying.” She frowns, falls back in her seat, and returns to her phone screen. “Don’t have to be an asshole about it.”
“Shania, words. We’re gonna have to drop the profanities. Seriously.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, without looking away from her screen.
“It’ll be fine,” I say to Manny. I kind of like him more now. Anyone who can trash-talk an angry white girl gets extra points in my book. “They go up and down every day. Hardly ever crash.”
“LOL. That’s reassuring, dude.” He playfully punches my shoulder. “What are you in for, anyway?”
“Not yet, Manny,” Gilbert says. He’s still bouncing. His excitement is palpable. Unless maybe he’s nervous about flying too. “Let’s not talk about why we’re here quite yet. How about we keep questions to getting to know you stuff for now. You know, siblings, parents, grade, age, favorite music. Stuff like that. Once you get to know each other a bit, you can share your tales of delinquency. This is something we’ll delve into during our group discussions once we’re all together. Fair enough?”
“Sure thing, dude,” Manny says. He makes this crazy face only I pick up on. It makes me laugh. Yeah. He’s okay. “So, Diego. What’s your story?”
“No brothers. No sisters. Live with my mom. Just me, Moms, and my abuelita—my gran. Three musketeers. No daddy. I go to St. Mark’s. Just turned seventeen last month.”
“Catholic boy. Ooh. That’s nasty,” he says. But he laughs, like it’s okay with him. Like I haven’t offended him too much. “Chapel Hill High right here. Born and raised. Chapel Hill, represent.”
He does a fist pump and winks. We share smirks as I ask, “Any brothers or sisters?”
I see Shania is paying attention now. She’s leaning toward us, like she wants to be a part of the conversation. But also like she’s too cool for school.
“Do I!” Manny laughs. “Mama and Papa were busy. I have three older brothers, two younger sisters, and a younger brother. Oldest is twenty-three and the youngest is seven. Me? I’m seventeen too.”
“Cool,” I say.
“Oh, and also no dad. He passed.” He looks beyond me to Shania. “How about you, sweets?”
“Seven kids? Holy crap. That’s some real shit. And call me sweets again, and I’ll throat-punch you. Without warning.”
“Shania. Enough. Last warning.”
“Oops. Aye, aye, captain.”
“Sorry about your dad,” I say. Manny offers a shy smile.
Our flight gets called and everybody around us jumps up and heads for our gate, even though they only called for certain rows. So that’s how it is.
“That’s us, kiddos,” Gilbert says. He waves his Canadian passport, with his boarding pass tucked into one of its pages. “Get your passports out and put the boarding pass in the page where your ID photo is. Let’s do this.”
We all get up, but only Shania speaks.
“Are you always gonna be such a perky cheerleader?”
“Only until you no longer need a cheerleader, dearie.” He points the way with his passport and smiles that too-big smile at us as we file past him.
“I. Don’t. Need. A. Cheerleader,” Shania says.
“That’s what they all say. You’ll see. Just let your guard down a bit and you’ll start to have fun, Shania. I’m not kidding you.”
“Yes, sir.”
We join the crowd at the gate and make our way to the front of the line. After a thousand years.
I’m right behind Shania, so I hear the attendant say, “Seat 24C. Enjoy your flight, Ms. Reynolds.”
I glance at my ticket. Yep. I get to sit beside angry white chick for, like, twelve hours. Kill me now.
Chapter 5 — Shania Reynolds
Sunday, June 30th – Suckage Day 2 – The Boy Who Hates Me and Why I Hate Myself
I hate my life. I had to sit next to a boy named Diego on the plane. I’m in Madrid. Spain. Big fine whoop. I’d be happier if I hadn’t completely alienated a hot boy before I was forced to sit beside him for a thousand hours on a flight over the ocean. I couldn’t even be nice to him when we hit turbulence, and he clearly thought he was going to die. I mean, his seat was shaking so much, I kind of think he might have been the reason for the turbulence.
Every single time he tried to talk to me, I bit his head off. This boy with amazing dark skin and gorgeous huge brown eyes like a puppy dog. I don’t kick puppies; I don’t know why I felt the need to kick him. I mean, even his name is hot. Diego. I hate myself so much sometimes. Even the other guy with us, Manny, leaned over and told me to cut the guy some slack. Jesus! Clearly I’m a monster. And Diego and Manny were like instant friends. Now they’ll be against me for the whole trip. I hate my life.
I swear, I’m so tired I can’t even think. I’m somewhere in Madrid and we’re taking a bus in the morning to someplace called Ponferrada. That’s where the real hell will begin. The endless walk to Santiago de Compostela. I can understand people doing this a million years ago, but today? It’s just insane. I don’t get it. They’re called cars, people.
Not to mention, we have to be downstairs in the hotel lobby at six in the morning. Not get up at six, be downstairs and ready to board the bus at six. This is child abuse.
I bet if I took the juvie, I wouldn’t have to drag myself out of bed before seven or eight. Like Dad would have allowed me to do that. He pulled huge strings to get me here. I didn’t have a choice.
I hope to God some of the other delinquents are more bearable than the two I’m stuck with so far. Diego and Manny both hate my guts. I pray for a sane, normal person to join us. I have three more chances, but who am I kidding… they’ll be the same. Lemmings. Insufferable, intolerable lemmings.
At least I have my music. I’ll just zone everyone out and walk. Thank God they didn’t make us leave our phones at home. Miracle of miracles.
When the cops stopped me in that car, I thought for sure I was a goner. Like, isn’t that grand theft auto? I don’t know what my father even did to get me out of it, but I’m guessing it was my last Get Out of Jail Free card. I guess it pays to have a lawyer for a father. Still, I think he’s laughing his ass off right now. This is practically worse than jail. Bad enough I have to hang out with some overachieving dweeb and some juvenile delinquents. But walking across an entire country with them? Not fun. Not funny.
I hate that Dillon knows me so well. All the way to the airport, he lectured me on not being myself. Apparently, I’m some kind of super-bitch or something. His lecture was insidious, though. Every time I caught myself snapping at Diego on the airplane, my brother’s voice repeated, “Just try to be nice, Shania. You chew people up and spit them out just for trying to have a conversation with you. It’s not their fault you’re angry. Do yourself a favor and leave yourself at home for this trip. Don’t blow this opportunity.”
I’d like to punch Dillon in the throat, but he’s a hundred percent right and more than a thousand miles away. And just seeing Diego’s puppy dog eyes every time I ripped him a new one made me feel guilty. Damn Dillon. If he had kept his opinions to himself, I wouldn’t feel so guilty right now.
I don’t even know if I can take it down a notch. I mean, I’d like to. It’s not my fault I’m raging mad. I’m a product of my environment.
One thing I can’t do,
though, is let Diego and Manny know I’m rich. They hate me enough already. I don’t need them to hold privilege against me too.
Chapter 6 — Troy Sinclair
I’m sitting with Meagan, which is fine by me. The other kids seem a bit sketchy. Not that I’m judging, but Jesus. Claire would give drug dealers a run for their money. Not to mention, her life of crime seems to be the only thing she wants to talk about. Shoplifting seems to be her favorite pastime, though apparently not the thing that brought her here. So not my scene, girlfriend.
And Greg? Well, he’s almost too hot. I always get uncomfortable around impossibly hot guys. Dimples, cheeks, hair. It’s all working for him.
I can’t sit in silence. That’s a thing with me. I like to be where the conversation is. I like to be the conversation.
I yank on Meagan’s earbuds. “Whatcha watching?”
“Hmmm?” she says, as though she wasn’t watching anything but nodding off. “Oh. Just a rerun. Will and Grace.”
I already knew this, of course. I can see Jack on her screen, being his same old Jack-self.
“I love that show.”
“Yeah,” she says, removing her earbuds. “Me too.”
She smiles and turns toward me.
“So, what makes Meagan want to deal with a boatload of badass kids? Who hurt you so badly?”
“Ha ha. Not hurt. I just want to make a difference in the lives of dirtbags, Troy.” She winks.
“Nice one.”
The drinks cart makes its way toward us again. Last time, the flight attendant attempted to remove my elbow with it. I’m not going to let that happen again. This time, I’m ready.
“I like working with kids. I used to be one, you know.”
“I did not know that. You learn something new every day.”
“Is this your first trip to Spain?”
“Yep. Dad took my brother and me to Paris last summer. That’s the closest I’ve ever been to Spain. I already knew about the Camino, though. I read about it and watched every movie I could find. It’s a bucket-list item for me. It actually begins in France. Did you know that?”
“Yep,” she says. “I walked the entire route last summer. Probably around the same time you were in Paris with your folks.”
“Not folks. Just my dad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry your parents are split. That’s always hard to—”
“Oh, no, no. They’re not apart. They just think it’s important we spend time with them individually. After Paris with Dad, we went to London with Mom. My brother Avery and I traveled from one place to the other together. So Dad had Paris with us and by himself and Mom had London to herself and then with us.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Sorry, I just assumed. That actually sounds quite amazing.”
Drinks cart attendant approaching. I try to remain aware. He’s still a ways back. I have time to save myself.
“We like it. My brother and I, that is.”
“So it’s just the two of you? Older or younger?” Meagan asks.
“He’s older. By three minutes. And he lords it over me every single day of our lives.”
“Ooh, twins. Twins have always fascinated me.”
“Trust me. We are anything but fascinating. No secret handshake. No eerie twin senses. We’re as different as they come. I mean, he likes girls, Meagan. Ew. Just, ew.”
“Hey, watch it, bucko. I happen to be a girl. I don’t think we’re all that bad.”
“Oops. Sorry. But you know what I mean.”
“Ha. Yeah. Oh, watch yourse—”
“Ow!” He got me again. Goddamn it.
“Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I just can’t stop hitting you today,” the flight attendant says. “I’m usually a really good driver. Here, take an extra cookie, darling. Don’t tell the pilot. He’s just looking for a reason to throw me off this bus.”
Now I’m giggling too much to worry about my elbow.
“That’s okay. Didn’t hurt. I’m good.” I try to stop rubbing the pain away. I don’t want him to feel bad or know I’m lying.
“What will you have, sweetie?” he asks.
“Ginger ale?”
“Sure thing,” he says. “Coming right up.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” Meagan asks. She’s smiling like mad, though. The guy has an abundance of charm.
“Honey, please. I always talk to the handsome ones first. You’ll wait your turn or you’ll get tomato juice. Understand?”
“Fresh,” Meagan says, as an admonishment.
“Girl, all my drinks are fresh. I promise you that. That’s what keeps them coming back to my yard.”
Now we all laugh, as do a few of the passengers around us. It’s always this way on planes, isn’t it? A camaraderie happens. It’s kind of nice.
“Hello,” comes a screechy little voice from the seats ahead of us. Did I mention Claire has streaks of wild color in her hair? Blue, pink. Back at the airport I thought she might be interesting—before she opened her mouth. She didn’t take Meagan’s ground rules discussion too well. “You gonna entertain them all day or are you gonna move on and serve us? Sometime today?”
“Missy ma’am, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were thirsting. Let me get this nice woman a drink first and I’ll be right with you, shall I?” He says this with a nicety that is so filled with sarcasm, Meagan and I look at each other and laugh some more. Then the flight attendant winks at Meagan and asks, “What will you have, dear?”
“Just a Coke for me, please. Sorry about her. She’s a bit on the edgy side. Those two are with me. I apologize.”
“No need, dearie.” He bends close to us, as though he’s doing so to pass Meagan her drink and not to diss Claire. “We can’t be accountable for the bad manners of others.”
“Thank you,” Meagan says.
The attendant moves on. My elbow is still intact. I like him too much to care about being smacked. It’s probably my fault anyway.
“Finally,” Claire says. I realize, not for the first time, that I want to smash her in the face. I already know I will not be girlfriends with this one. She’s a bit too nasty for my blood. I hope to God there’s a nice girl on this trip. It would suck to have to spend the entire walk with just guys. I don’t really get along well with guys. Well, straight ones anyway. Even more especially, hot straight guys.
“Well, Troy,” Meagan says. “We’re about halfway there. I think I’m going to try to catch some rest. I suggest you do the same. It’s tricky with the time difference. Jet lag. The first day or so is going to be a bit difficult adjusting, especially since we’ll hit the ground running. If we sleep for a while now, we might beat the lag.”
“Okay,” I say. “I could probably sleep.”
She leans forward and taps Greg on the top of the head. He pops his face over the back of his seat, pulls a hot pink earbud out of his ear, and looks at her quizzically.
His hair. Gah. Long, straight and blond. Typical beach bum surfer dude. One of the many looks that work for me. My God, the boy is more beautiful than a boy has a right to be. I try not to stare at him. Nothing makes a straight boy more nervous than being goggled at by the gays. I don’t want to blow it with him before we know each other, but he’s just so gorgeous.
“You should catch some shuteye,” Meagan tells him. “To beat the jet lag.”
“Sure thing, Meags.” His Colgate smile blinds me. “Just listening to tunes. I was probably gonna crash anyway.”
“Okay, tell Claire too, please.”
“I’m not deaf. I can hear you. Everyone on the plane can hear you.”
“Thank you, Claire,” Meagan says. She looks from Greg to me and shrugs as if to say, what did I do? We all exchange knowing smiles as if to confirm to each other that Claire is a burden we’ll agree to carry together. Or maybe I’m just making that up. Then Gr
eg’s beautiful face disappears.
Please, God, let there be a nice normal girl on this journey. One who is not homophobic and likes to talk. A lot. I need a bestie on this walk or I swear to God I’ll die.
I put my earbuds in, turn on my music, and, before the first song is over, I drift off.
Chapter 7 — Diego Nelson
Here goes nothing. Today we take the bus from Madrid to Ponferrada, with stops along the way to check out a few things. I guess it’s not all punishment.
Moms would kill me if she found out I skipped breakfast, so I’m the first one down here. We get on the bus at six. I couldn’t sleep, so here I am. Four-thirty in the morning, showered, and ready for breakfast.
I skip the coffee and go straight for the orange juice. The machine they have to make orange juice? Whoa.
Moms would be happy with my breakfast choice. An apple, yogurt, and a baguette with some weird jelly I never heard of. And, of course, a Spanish omelette. I can’t believe the hotel breakfast bar is open this early.
I’m sitting at my table in the corner with all my food before me when this guy walks in.
“Hey,” he says. “Are you with Gilbert, by any chance?”
“Um, yeah.” I tear the top off my yogurt, pick up my spoon, and start to shovel the yogurt into my mouth.
“Well, me too,” he says. “My name’s Troy. Mind if I sit with you?”
“Knock yourself out.” I point to an empty chair across the table and continue to eat.
“Thanks, man. What you in for?”
“Too soon, Troy,” I say. I smirk, but I kinda mean it too. I don’t even know the guy and I’m trying to follow Gilbert’s rules.
“Sorry. Guess you’re right. Meagan told us that’ll happen in group. Sorry. Forgot. I’m just gonna drop my bag here and grab something to eat.”
“Knock—”
“Yourself out. Gotcha.” He drops his bag on a chair and walks away. I watch him as I finish my yogurt cup and move on to my omelette. He gets the guy at the coffee station to make him a coffee. This seems to take a ridiculous amount of time. Then he grabs a croissant and butter and heads back to the table.
