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My mom and I sat in the plastic orange airport chairs waiting for my flight to board. Mom bought the ticket when we got here for the next plane to the Orlando airport. I sat a few chairs away from Mom. I was still mad at her.

I didn't want to go. Not at all. I'm pretty sure my dad didn't want me coming anymore either. Mom told him everything that had happened that day after he wanted to know why I had to come so early. It probably freaked him out thinking he was going to have to raise a juvenile delinquent.

"Flight 642 to Orlando, Florida is now boarding Coach." The voice crackled over the speakers.

I stood up and picked up my carry-on bag. I walked towards the line that was forming without saying anything to my mom.

"Kelly, come here sweetie." She said to me.

I turned around. "What? I'm going to miss my plane." Not that that's a bad thing.

She walked to me since I wouldn't go to her. She gave me a quick hug and kiss. "Call me as soon as you get there, okay?"

I nodded. Mom let go of me and let me get to the line. It was short now because most of the people had already gotten on. I went to the lady and handed her my ticket.

"Thank you." She said all cheerful, "Enjoy your flight."

I raised my eyebrow and nodded. Then I walked toward the plane. Every step I take I am closer to Florida. Closer to my dad. Closer to the life I didn't want at all.

I walked up the steps to get onto the plane and sighed. The flight attendant at the door smiled cheerily at me. What is with these people? They're all happy. I walked to the Coach section and searched for my seat. I spotted it and had to climb over a man in a business suit to get to it. I was seated between him and an old lady who smelled like a lot of cheap perfume all mixed together. It was gross.

The lady smiled at me and said, "You headed to Florida for summer vacation?"

I shook my head. "I'm staying with my dad there." I told her.

"Oh, well that should be fun." She said.

I laughed. "Riiiiiight...fun." I said.

"Why wouldn't it be?" She asked.

"Because I hate my dad." I told her.

The old lady stopped talking to me then, thank God. She was starting to annoy me. I just hope she doesn't talk to me anymore. Well, if she does I just have to tell her I hate my dad. It'll shut her up at least.

There was a movie, but it looked boring so I didn't watch it. They gave us fruit, but come on, it's fruit. Give us something good. About an hour later, the plane landed at the airport.

I took a deep breath. Here I am. Well, I made it without trying to fling myself out of the window, so I guess it was a good sign. I do wish those suckers opened, though.

They finally began to let us out. I stood up shakily and got my bag from the overhead compartment. Why am I nervous? He's just a guy who I happen to have to call my father. Nothing more. Shure, he's famous and everything, but what does that matter? It doesn't...he should be more nervous than me.

I must have been shaking pretty hard, because the old lady next to me asked, "Are you alright, dear? You're as white as a sheet."

I nodded. "I'm fine." I told her, my voice coming out squeaky. What did she care? LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE YOU DIRTY WOMAN!

I followed her off the plane. The flight attendants all smiled at me. Happy freaks. What are their problems? After we got closer to the airport and farther from the plane the butterflies in my stomach came back and it felt like it was doing flips.

Before we got into the airport, I stopped and let some people pass me. I took a few deep breaths. I hope he's not there. I hope he chickened out and can't have me with him anymore. I hope he sent someone else with another plane ticket to send me back on the next flight home.

But I also hope he is there. So I can meet him. So I can live with him like I'd always wanted to. So I can live in a real house and see how the other half live. So I can take some of his money and go shopping.

I followed the last person off of the plane into the airport and towards my dad. I was nervous as hell.

After looking around a bit, I spotted him. My dad. Standing against a wall, looking around. He was wearing sunglasses, of course, and had his arms crossed. He looked just as nervous as me. That kind of made me feel better. I don't know why. I'm just weird that way.

I walked slowly towards him, looking down at my feet. Do. Not. Look. At. Him.