All of This

When I was little, I would hold my breath whenever I felt emotions I couldn’t understand. I wouldn’t release it until my little lungs burned for air, my cheeks screamed red, and spots danced in my vision—until my mom held me tight, whispering assurances that everything would be okay. Then I would open my mouth and gulp as much air as I could, gasping and choking and feeling. As long as I focused on holding my breath, I couldn’t think about what hurt.

As I stood alone in the crowded Atlanta airport, I began to feel those familiar emotions of fear and uncertainty wrap their stiff fingers around my throat. I was sixteen, but still I’d have given anything to have my mom standing beside me, comforting me, like all those years before. Around me, crowds of people shoved their way toward their destinations while I remained still. My feet were blocks of concrete in my jogging shoes, and I had to make an effort to scrape them along the terminal.

I shifted my beat-up backpack to my right shoulder, clutching the strap like a kid on her first day of kindergarten. I finally got my stubborn feet to move as I stuck my elbows out and forged ahead. An advantage of growing up in Seattle was that I’d learned how to make my way through a crowd.

I reached the end of the terminal and stopped. Deep breaths. Breathe in; breathe out. Repeat. Around me, my flight mates clutched their friends and relatives, laughing and crying—finally home. Beside me, a little girl ran into the arms of her father and buried her face in his neck.

Before I could stop myself, my mind flashed back to my own dad. The disappointment in his eyes, the resignation on his face, the way he dropped me off at the SeaTac airport to face whatever waited for me over the next few months.

“I don’t even know them,” I’d told him as we pulled into the drop-off lane.

“I don’t know what else to do, Sadie. They’ll take care of you,” he said as he handed my backpack to me.

“They’re probably a bunch of rednecks.” Dad sighed and rubbed his neck. “Get it together, Sadie. I’ll see you in August.”

Shaking my head to bring my mind back to the present, I brushed my wilted, sandy bangs out of my eyes and searched the sea of unfamiliar faces. What if they forgot? I asked myself. What if they changed their minds? What if—

“Say-dee! Over here!”

My ears perked at the sound of my name, and my gaze followed the direction of the voice.

A tall, freckled, redheaded guy waved just to the right of me. Next to Ronald McDonald stood a petite, pregnant brunette.