I hate that she's right

              As a child, I used to sit and stare out of windows for hours whenever I was in a vehicle. I don’t know why, but I stopped doing it when I grew up. Maybe I was too busy looking at my phone. Today is an exception. I’m looking out of windows again. Today, thick, grey clouds sag in the overcast sky. Clouds are easy to look at.

AJ has been on her phone the entire ride. In the window reflection I can see she’s texting her mom about the flight delays. Not a single word about me. Come to think of it, I should probably tell my brother that I won’t be arriving on time. I send him a quick message. He’d definitely leave me stranded on the roadside if I made him wait several hours to pick me up. Not to mention, Florida weather is disgustingly hot and sticky.

“Attention. The tram will be arriving at Terminal E. Please gather your belongings and exercise caution when exiting the doors.”

I shove my phone back into my pocket as the tram comes to a halt. Everyone onboard rocks back and forth as we pull into the station. People tap their feet on the other side of the doors, anxious to board and reach their next destination. AJ finally puts away her phone.

“Isn’t this great?” she grins. “We’re finally going to get our smoothies!”

“Don’t jinx us.”

“I’m not! I’m just celebrating.”

AJ drags the last word out, emphasizing the “a” sound as she pushed her way out of the tram car.

“You’re jinxing us,” I call after her, shoving through the people entering.

“Nuh-uh. I don’t believe in jinxes!”

Even though I was sitting closer to the door, she managed to beat me out of the tram. Behind us, the next group of passengers takes off with a whoosh.

“Just watch,” I sigh. “The smoothie shop is going to be closed or under renovation when we get there because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

AJ doesn’t answer. Instead, she starts walking down the terminal. I follow in awkward silence, assuming she knows the way. I hope she’s not thinking about what happened earlier. I get flustered just recalling it. It’s embarrassing how impulsively I acted, unforgivably irrational.

“Do you think…”

She stops talking to stare off into blank space.

I give her a second to continue talking but she doesn’t. We resume walking in silence. Someone hurries by with squeaky shoes. Looks like I’ll have to take the bait.

“Think what?” I finally reply.

“Do you think I should’ve kept quiet and not bothered the people back at the kiosk?”

She followed up quickly, as if she had prepared a response. So that’s what this is about. The couple. Not me. Might as well be brutally honest then.

“Probably-“

“Hey!”

“Let me finish,” I insist.

“Okay. Go on.”

She crosses her arms but doesn’t interrupt any further.

“I was saying that going up to strangers is kind of stupid. Like talking to me…”

She’s glaring at me, but it’s not intimidating. A veiled friendliness radiates from beneath her hostile façade.

“…but you meant well,” I add. “And you couldn’t have known what they’d say to you. So, I guess, you didn’t do anything wrong. Just be more careful.”

“You think me talking to you was stupid?” pressures AJ, hands on hips.

“Yeah.”

There’s absolutely no way I’m going to deny that fact. She’s lucky I didn’t turn out to be some type of creep. It’s impossible to know who someone truly is in a situation like this. We don’t have any mutual contacts to back up our credibility. Now that I think about it, I hope we don’t have any mutual acquaintances. That would make things even more complicated.

“Well maybe, I just happen to have a strong sense of adventure,” declares AJ. “But it’s better than never taking chances and not ever having fun or excitement in life.”

“Are you implying that I-“

She shakes her head, thrashing me with bits of her ponytail again. That better not have been on purpose.

“I’m not implying anything,” she enunciates.

“Sure.”

She leans over to me, our shoulders bumping. A mischievous smirk is scrawled across her face.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” she whispers.

I look away from her and set my gaze straight ahead. Gripping my bag straps, I speed walk ahead. AJ stands sputtering as the gap between us rapidly widens.

“Hey! Don’t go so fast!” she protests.

“You should keep up!” I laugh and double my pace.

I keep sneaking glances over my shoulder to check on her progress. AJ flounders for a bit, buts eventually jogs to catch back up. I slow down to a casual walking speed as she pulls up alongside of me.

“What was that for? It’s not fair that you’ve got such long legs!”

“Life isn’t fair,” I answer. “Now you know what I had to go through to give your passport back to you.”

“Ack!”

She stops again. This time squatting down to rummage around in her backpack.

“Don’t tell me you lost it again!?”

“Hmm.” She puts a finger on her chin, deep in thought. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. I don’t know yet.”

I push my bangs up in exasperation.

“I’m being serious. Did you lose it or not?”

She yanks the compartments shut and reshoulders the bag.

“Nope. Everything is in there.”

“Good,” I sigh in relief. “I don’t want to help you find your passport twice in one day.”

“You don’t want to help me?” she gasps in mock dismay. “Why not?”

“It’s too much effort. I’d rather wait in peace at my gate.”

I pick up the pace again.

“Let’s go. We need to get back to our flights in time.”

“No, you don’t!” shouts AJ. She grabs my bag, forcing me to walk at her snail’s pace. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“We don’t have time.”

I stop resisting and match her speed, but she keeps a tight hold on my bag.

“Just because the gate attendant said three hours doesn’t mean we have three hours. That was only an estimation,” I explain.

“But there’s still no reason to run around!”

She jerks my backpack again, and straps dig deeper into my shoulders. A passerby goes by, giving us a side-eyed smirk. Paranoia swells inside me, crawling like spiders across my skin. We’re wearing matching shirts, walking close together, and AJ is holding onto me. Everyone who sees us probably thinks that we’re a couple. If my brainless stunt from earlier wasn’t enough, this really completes the boyfriend-girlfriend image. I’d ask her to put her sweatshirt back on, but that’s probably super rude.

“AJ.”

“Uh-huh.”

“When are you going to let go of my bag?”

She gives me one last strong yank then takes her hand away, letting it fall to her side. I start speedwalking again to spite her.

“Thank you,” I mutter sarcastically.

“You surprised me back there,” she mutters before I’m out of earshot.

I turn around and reluctantly trot back to her. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she grins, folding her hands behind her back. “I’m just glad you decided to stop running around like a maniac.”

“You think I’m the crazy one? “I’m not the person who goes around talking to strangers left and right like I’m still five years old.”

“Don’t insult five-year-olds,” she glowers. “I wish I was still five.”

“You really want to be five again?”

“Who wouldn’t? Life was easy back then. All you had to do was eat, sleep and play.”

“But you can’t do anything for yourself.”

“So what?”

A man with a stroller wheels past us. The toddler inside is fixated on a glowing smartphone.

“Ah, this sucks,” she whines. “Seeing kids makes me feel so old now. I can’t believe how much things have changed since we were younger.”

“Yeah.”

We watch the stroller go. A sippy cup bounces in the cupholder.

“Um, AJ.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I forgot.”

The man with the stroller is gone. AJ gives my bag another insulting pull, but it’s surprisingly gentle.

“Look,” she points. “There’s the smoothie place!”

“You’re making this up, aren’t you?”

“Look.”

There is a smoothie shop. Rather, the smoothie shop. A blue and orange swirl mocks me from a glowing sign. Still no company name in sight. Tropical music wavers out of garbled speakers. A cheery poster blares the wonders of the summer specials. Workers in bright blue polos pulverize fruits and vegetables in gory blenders that scream the songs of the massacred produce.

“See?” grins AJ slyly. “Just like I said.”

I hate that she’s right.