In the Eye of the Storm — Anyssa Lin
The young woman sat down in her seat on the plane, eyes darting everywhere to focus on the leather seats, blinking lights, cold windows. This was her first time traveling alone, and she was not ready for it. Sure, she had been on planes before, but that was with her sister, with her parents. She wanted company, someone to sit next to.
But on the other hand. . . she looked to the left, noticing the two empty seats beside her. She had the window seat on the right, and a tiny blossom of hope began to grow inside her heart. Maybe she would unexpectedly get the whole row to herself, and she wouldn’t have to worry about her stupid social anxiety either.
The girl smiled to herself at the slightly comforting thought, looking down and using her long black hair to try to hide it. The sun had just set an hour ago, and the sky was quickly darkening. Stars were already blinking outside – or maybe they were airplane lights as they began their descent. Clouds dotted the sky like decoration, and the city lights of New York flashed and shone brightly, as if the city itself was saying goodbye to her.
“32B, 33B. . . ?”
A male voice made its way through the air towards the young woman’s ear, and she instantly tensed at the sound. No. Her seat was 35A, and if that guy’s seat was 35B or C. . . oh shoo-
“35B.”
Well. That was great. She looked up to see a young man standing in the aisle right in front of her row. Upon first glance, he seemed harmless. Brown hair that made his head look bigger than it actually was, bright green eyes, set of headphones dangling around his neck. But he also had a certain air among him that seemed to say, I don’t couldn't care less. That vibe he carried was the exact opposite of what the girl felt. She cared too much about everything. She cared too much about how she had to act around a new stranger now.
The boy looked at her, and she self-consciously glanced away, instantly taking a dislike to the way he was observing her. She could already imagine how she looked in his eyes. Rumpled hair from rushing through security, dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep, and dry skin that hadn’t been taken care of in a long, long time.
“Hello,” he said politely.
“Hi,” she whispered back softly, smiling tightly and turning her head back to the window, looking outside for something else to think about. She was not going to think about interacting with strangers. She heard the boy putting his suitcase in the compartment above, then felt him shuffling between the seats and sitting down next to her.
She tensed, worried that he would attempt to engage in conversation with her. The girl often tried to hide it, but she had a terrible track record of overthinking everything and anything, especially interactions with other people. If the boy talked to her, then that would mean she had to act polite and nice, and she would start worrying that the boy was judging her ugly looks or her uncomfortable stammers.
But thank God, he merely stuffed his backpack underneath the seat in front of him and started scrolling on the mini-TV in front of him. Letting out a soft breath she didn't know she had been holding, the girl looked back outside.
Darkness had completely fallen, and the girl could see airport workers loading the last of the luggage onto the belly of the plane. A sort of calmness fell over her as she observed the scene – the flight might be okay. It might go well.
All of a sudden, a pre-flight announcement came over the speaker. Like every other trip she had taken, the safety video and demonstration passed speedily, and soon the plane was rumbling with anticipation of flight.
Forgetting the calmness of the night sky, the girl darted her gaze to the boy beside her. She wasn’t alone anymore. But now she had to worry about acting like a not crazy overthinking person. The girl took in a deep breath and stared at the dark screen in front of her. It had grown into a habit of hers, to take a deep breath whenever she needed calm.
The engine came to life, and the plane began making its way down the runway. The girl could feel the ginormous plane making its way down the road, its front wheels lifting off the ground, the body tilting up towards the sky. Minutes later, the plane had righted itself in midair and was gliding smoothly high in the sky.
A small smile came to the girl’s face as she peered out the window down at the rapidly shrinking lights of New York City. Every time she got on a plane, the girl’s wonder could never cease at how an object this large could defy gravity.
“Makes you realize how big the world really is, huh?”
Surprised, the girl jumped – she had nearly forgotten about the boy sitting next to her. Her smile was still on her face, though now it was slightly forced as she didn’t want to seem impolite.
“Y-yeah. It’s cool.”
The boy nodded and asked, “Whatcha goin’ to California for?”
“I’m going to visit some family for winter break.”
“Oh nice! I’m going to my sister’s wedding.”
Before the girl could say some sort of congratulation (because she should, right?), the boy continued, “And guess what, that also pulled me out of my finals. What I wouldn’t give to move the wedding just a month later.”
Despite her attempts to stop it, the girl laughed. Don’t be too happy, or you’ll seem creepy. She asked, “Aren’t you happy that you don’t have to take finals though?”
He shrugged, “Yeah, but that means I have to make them up when I come back, and no one wants to study for finals longer than they have to.”
“That’s true,” she conceded. Then the boy tilted his head and looked at her. She immediately looked away, feeling like he was trying to decipher her deepest darkest fears.
“So, you look about college age and you weren’t confused about finals in December. Where do you go?”
“I go to NYU,” she said, relieved it wasn’t a ‘deep feelings’ question. Then she deemed it polite to return the question. “What about you?”
“Columbia.”
Again, the girl’s reaction shot out of her before she could stop it. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, “Damnnnn! Ivy League, huh?”
The boy gave a humble laugh and shrugged. He didn’t respond to her comment, and silence seemed to fall over them like an uncomfortable blanket. At least, that’s what the girl thought. She looked at the boy from the side of her eye and began to wonder whether she had said something wrong. Then she reprimanded herself for overthinking her actions. There’s definitely something wrong with me.
Before the girl could dive deeper into her thoughts and spiral, the boy asked, “This your first time on a plane?”
His eyes wandered around and weren’t fully focused on the girl, causing him to miss the slight tensing of her shoulders and clenched fingers.
“No,” the girl said. Good, my voice sounds calm. She forced herself to look back at the boy, trying to push all worries away from her brain. It would be embarrassing to admit that this was her first time alone, especially when she was almost twenty and many teenagers younger than her had already traveled alone before. And not to mention they didn’t have mini anxiety chants running through their heads that sounded like you’re gonna embarrass yourself on the plane you’re gonna have a breakdown you’re gonna cry like a baby you look so ugly you’re gonna forget your suitcase you’re gonna. . .
“Oh,” said the boy, but that one word sent warning signs flashing in the girl’s head.
“W-what?”
“Hm?”
“W-what was with that ‘oh’?”
“I was just surprised.”
“W-why?!”
“‘Cuz it seemed like it was your first time on a plane judging by how you reacted to the plane lifting off.”
“O-oh,” the girl said in return, her doubts settling down like sand in a jar of water. He had misinterpreted her reaction. Her deep breathing was in response to flying alone for the first time. And also having to sit next to this actually nice stranger of a boy. . . I guess you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. She wasn’t actually scared of flying.
The boy smiled wryly, “Now it’s your turn to say ‘oh’. What was with that one?”
The girl turned red but smiled. She said, “It was an ‘oh’ that expressed relief that I at least look like a competent adult.”
The boy laughed, and the girl felt a little better. At least she could joke a little bit about her doubts. But he had no idea how badly she needed that joke to be true. . .
*****
With a jerk, the girl stumbled out of her short nap, a confused animal in the dark forest. Everything around her was pitch-black. The sound of a whirring engine entered her ear, and it took her several seconds to place where she was. The plane. Right. But how did I even wake up? It was riding so smoothly-
The plane jerked again, and the girl sucked in a breath.
“Oh-” An embarrassing squeak escaped her lips, and she clutched the arms of the airplane chair tight. The plane jostled up and down, forwards and backwards, like a refugee running through crossfire, like vegetables being tossed in a hot sizzling pan. The girl had experienced turbulence before. But it had never been this bad. And it had been with my sister, my parents. It had been several seconds of a shake, then gone. This was longer, shakier, bumpier. . . lonelier.
The girl swore under her breath and shut her eyes tight. What if she accidentally cried in front of everyone? What if she screamed and scared everyone? What if, what if, what if. . .
BUMP!
The plane bounced up, and the girl nearly fell out of her seat. She might've shot out like a bullet had she not been buckled in. God, I wish my sister were here. This is scary. I wish my dad were here. She lifted her head up to try to focus on something else, to try to distract herself from the damning thoughts that were running around in her head like sugar-high children.
Turning her head to her left, the girl saw something astonishing. The boy, the cool and confident young man from take off, had his eyes closed and was muttering something unintelligible underneath his breath.
To the girl’s own surprise, she let out a soft laugh at the irony. The boy’s eyes flew open, and he looked directly at her. Shoot, did he hear me? Is he angry at me. . . The thoughts quickly silenced themselves as the girl observed not anger but hints of panic in his green irises. She could almost imagine the same panic mirrored in her own black ones.
The boy’s mouth opened, but the plane gave another shake, startling their attention away from each other. His eyes fluttered close in a flash, and the girl grasped the arms of the airplane chair tighter and tighter, until her knuckles began to turn white.
She sucked in a forced breath, held it, then let it back out. Nope. Square breathing is not going to work today. She looked back over at the boy, who had returned to muttering and clenching his teeth tight.
Several seconds passed before she realized that she was staring at him. Should I help him? The girl had thousands of thoughts rushing through her head at lightning speed, but that one was the loudest one by far – even blocking out all the insistent ones that said she was alone, alone, alone.
The plane rocked yet again, and a choked gasp and whimper sounded at the same time. The gasp had come from the girl, she knew that the second the sound escaped her mouth. But the whimper. . . ? She whipped her head to look at the boy, and she found that he was already looking at her, his face flushed with embarrassment.
“I-I. . . ” stammered the boy, his face steadily turning redder and redder like a tomato.
The girl let out a shaky breath, and she nodded her head down towards her hands.
“It’s okay.”
His eyes darted down and dilated when he noticed how tightly she had been gripping the airplane chair’s arms. The girl gave the boy a forced smile, wondering if she should’ve said something more, something else, anything else. The boy didn’t respond.
Then suddenly, the plane shook again, and the girl’s head dissolved back into worrying. I don’t like this I don’t like this I don’t like this, holy crap, I need something to hold, a stuffy, a book, a hand, I need I need I need. . .
“Um-” she whispered, her voice barely sounding from her fear. She looked up at the boy and could see her fear reflected on his face.
“Can I. . . can we hold. . . I just need something. . . ” Her voice quickly died out into a low croak as the plane rumbled again and stumbled like a newborn foal. She wasn’t sure she could make her voice work again. Hoping that the boy would understand her, worrying that he wouldn’t, she merely gave a slight nod to her stiff hands. But it turned out that she needn’t worry at all, for the boy slowly reached out and pried her left hand off the arm of the chair.
“Me too.”
With his raised eyebrow of permission, the girl nodded. He slipped his hand into hers, their warm palms and intertwined fingers fitting together like building blocks. Faintly, the girl registered that her hands were way too sweaty, too small, too gross, and that the boy’s hands were calloused, bigger than hers. Amidst the panic, she wondered, I wonder if he plays guitar. . .
She gave his hand a light squeeze and felt him squeeze back. Somehow, that sent a current of peace shooting through her body, and she felt her right hand relax slightly on the chair’s arm. She dared a quick look back at the boy and noticed that his eyes were closed.
But. . . it was a different type of closed eyes than mere minutes earlier. His forehead was no longer tight with tension, he wasn’t muttering under his breath, and his eyes were closed placidly, unlike the strained way she had noticed earlier. The girl smiled slightly. Whatever she had found in their interlaced hands, he seemed to have found as well.
The plane wavered again, but the girl didn’t worry about being alone again. Instead, she closed her eyes and saw nothing, thought nothing, felt nothing, except the warmth of the boy’s hand holding hers and her hand holding his.
Warmth, peace, not alone.
The realization hit her several minutes later. I’m not overthinking. About being alone, about interacting with the boy, about how I look. The sudden comprehension of this new knowledge sent a spark-like jolt through her, and her face burst into sunlight, a smile lighting up her face. Despite this new revelation, she managed to sit in one place and not jump up and down for joy.
She turned towards the boy, wanting to share the good news, before realizing that the boy was still essentially a stranger to her. . . and he had fallen asleep.
The girl paused, observing the boy in sleep. His eyelids were no longer forced closed, rather they covered his eyes peacefully. His mouth hung slightly open, and his head tilted back at an angle that made the girl cringe. He would be suffering with cramps when he woke up for sure.
She smiled at his position and closed her eyes. The plane hadn’t shaken for over ten minutes now. We’re okay. I’m okay. . .
*****
“Welcome to California, y’all. We’ve landed safely, please wait for the seatbelt light to turn off before getting up and unloading your luggage. This is your captain speaking, thank you for flying with us today, we hope you have a great day.”
The voice of the captain floated into the girl’s ear, and she slowly blinked her eyes open. With a start, she realized that her and the boy’s hands were still together and that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. She sat upright and leaned away from him, not wanting to accidentally scare him with her presence or have him wake up with a stranger on him. She felt a tiny bit of her doubts return, worrying that her head had been too heavy or that her breath stank.
The girl peered up at the boy, nearly spiraling into her own thoughts again. But then the boy woke up and slowly opened his eyes, turning his head to glance at the girl. He smiled at her. It’s okay. We’re okay. I’m okay. She smiled back.
As the seatbelt light flashed off and people around them began to stand up and grab all their luggage, it seemed like the girl and the boy were still in their own little peaceful world.
The girl knew that she might never see the boy again, or maybe on the contrary, this could be the start of something new. But she took one step that she wouldn’t have dared to do at the beginning of the flight. And like the hands still intertwined between them, the reaction that the boy gave sent hope shivering through her body.
“Hi, I’m Olive.”
“And I’m Ethan.”
Anyssa Lin is a junior in high school who loves to read and write fiction, primarily fantasy, romance, and adventure. She's published two adventure books in middle school and hopes to publish many more (not only adventure) in the near future. She dreams of writing a book that will one day be famous not only nationally but perhaps internationally. Anyssa currently spends her days fighting her way through high school, creating beautiful music with the piano and flute, and writing stories about teens like her when time permits.