I never realized that airplanes were so cramped . By the time I maneuvered myself into my economy window seat and managed to wedge my backpack between my knees , I was a little sweaty and I ’ d hit my head twice on the overhead bin . I shut my eyes for a moment and was trying to slow my slightly frantic breathing when someone plopped into the seat next to me . I looked over as subtly as I could .
My neighbor was a middle-aged man , wearing green pants that could only be described as “ trousers ” and a loud Hawaiian print shirt . He had a leather satchel in his lap and curly , graying hair against olive skin . When he smiled at me , wide and friendly , I saw a tiny diamond embedded in one of his canines .
“ I am Mr . Smith ,” he said , in a voice that sounded like it had worked very hard to eliminate an accent . He stuck a brown , lined hand over the drab airplane armrest .
“ Kate ,” I said , a little warily but trying to hide it . I shook his hand , timidly . In my head my dad was lecturing on the importance of a firm handshake and the benefit of talking with one ’ s fellow travelers . I pulled my limp fingers back .
“ Ah , yes ,” Mr . Smith said . “ Kate , that ’ s right .” My stomach gave a pinch of apprehension . I turned partially away , hoping to signal that I didn ’ t want to talk . “ Coming home from school ?” He asked .
I nodded yes and gave him a tight smile , then turned fully to face the front as the flight attendant began her safety demonstration . I could feel Mr . Smith still smiling at me , but after a moment he turned towards the front too , watching the stewardess demonstrate how to adjust the straps on an oxygen mask .
I peered out the window as the plane took off , watching the ground drop away below us . Soon the plane was passing over the outskirts of the city , and then we were punching through the clouds to the bright , hot sunlight above them . I pulled out my iPod and my headphones , and leaned back in my seat , wondering about all the people below me . Was I possibly passing over anyone I knew below , one of my friendly-but-not-quite-friends from school , perhaps ? It was strange to think that each of those tiny cars , each of those houses the size of a rice grain held a family or a couple or a person , each with their own life full of secrets and decisions and worries .
The music in my headphones sounded like a pulsing heartbeat , marking time for my thoughts . What would home be like , now that I ’ d been away for months ? Would my family still be the same ? Would my dog remember me ? What would I do over the summer ? Would that job interview at the yoga place pan out ? What about my friends from
high school ? What about that boy I sometimes saw biking past the 14