CHAPTER 7
brEVAN
The bus we load onto is one of those big, comfortable tour buses with cushy seats and darkly tinted windows. There are enough rows of seats for each of us to have at least a row to ourselves. I don’t take a full row though. I take one slightly separated from the others.
First, I move my passport and stuff from the front pocket to the hidden back pocket. I’ve never understood what it was for, but my brother bought the bag for me when I began flying back and forth from college to home and said it was perfect for air travel.
Maybe I should have asked why but it was a thoughtful gift and a really cool backpack so I didn’t. Just another one of those moments that make me feel… less than smart. I should have known what this hidden pocket is for, right?
It doesn’t take me long to rearrange my backpack while I listen to my peers talk. I hear someone ask, “What’s the purpose of these front pockets if they’re the most easily accessible to steal from? I have three on the front of my backpack.”
I’m nodding along, even as they continue to discuss this.
One person uses the front pocket for travel packets of migraine medicine and cleaner wipes for her glasses.
There’s laughter, but I’m not sure what it’s about.
Another says she has a dozen pens in her front pocket.
Then there are the obvious things like lotion and hand sanitizer.
Chapstick. Nail clippers. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Mouthwash. A comb. This list goes on.
I’m amused when one of the guys says, “This is like a larger version of your purse, isn’t it? You have everything in there.”
When I’m relatively certain my backpack is now safe, I turn my attention to the bag we were given. I’m not the only one checking it out. I begin with the outside pockets and find two sets of gloves, one thick and one thinner.
Another pocket has a really nice scarf. It’s black with rainbow tassels.
I’m not surprised to find the RDU crest embroidered on one end.
Another pocket has a beanie—black with our crest—and then a hat with sides that come down around your face and a pom on top.
It’s also black, but the pom is rainbow.
One of the flaps has the RDU crest. I’m beginning to see a pattern.
The next couple of pockets have random things.
A nail kit, which makes me grin, given the conversation I was listening to behind me.
A mini first-aid kit. Water bottle. Sunglasses.
Sunscreen. One of those bubble pop things and a stress ball in the shape of a unicorn.
There’s a toiletry set and a packet that says it’s a quick-dry towel.
A sleep mask. Just as I’m pulling out the power adapter for foreign outlets, I hear someone say, “Oh my god, thank fuck. I didn’t even think about different outlets. ”
Same, bro. Oof.
From inside the big pocket, I first pull out a floofy parka. It’s black but has some really cool rainbow stitching all over. It’s tasteful and beautiful. Of course, the RDU crest is embroidered on the left breast.
Beneath the jacket is a pair of impressive boots. Lining the bottom are a hoodie, a zipper hoodie, a couple polo shirts, and half a dozen pairs of thick socks. This is the coolest gift bag ever. I’m super excited to get into the hoodie. It feels so soft!
I’m feeling really hopeful about this trip.
It’s going to be fun, I’m going to learn a lot, and I’m going to think about Coach’s assignment.
As of right now, I don’t feel any different than I had since receiving the acceptance letter for this trip.
I don’t recognize any of the other students, so I’m not sure if they feel the same way as I do.
In a way, it almost feels as if I don’t recognize them because they’re in more difficult programs. They’re not athletes.
That’s probably why we haven’t crossed paths before.
I sit back in my seat and pull my earbuds out.
I downloaded a whole bunch of shows and movies on my tablet, unsure what the Wi-Fi situation would be.
I have a bunch of audiobooks on my phone, too.
My parents added international coverage to my phone for the duration of my trip, but I don’t want to use data if I don’t have to.
So now, while we’re in the US, I’ll stream music and save all the downloads until we’re on the plane. The bus ride is eight hours down to LAX, so I have some time. I’m also thankful that there are outlets on the bus.
For a while, I lose myself in the music as I watch the world pass us by. About halfway through the trip, we stop at a truck stop to refill and stretch our legs. I use the bathroom and then find some lunch. I also grab a few snack options to stick in my backpack too.
I don’t get on the bus again until we’re called to. The email we received a week ago in preparation for the trip said that the total travel time would be almost twenty-four hours. Of those twenty-four hours, eight of them would be on the bus.
There are worse buses to be on as far as I’m concerned.
This one is remarkably comfortable, and since there’s no one in my row with me, I shove both my bags on the floor and lie out as best I can.
While I don’t anticipate sleeping, I end up dozing in and out until we’re driving through the twists and turns of the airport with loud planes overhead.
Then, I’m sitting up in my seat, watching.
My heart races in anticipation. I can’t believe I’m heading out of the country. Not just over the border to Canada, but I’m getting on a plane to freaking Iceland! That’s so cool. Never in my life did I think I would travel like this.
I never thought I’d be chosen for such an important role, either. I won’t let anyone down. That’s not an option. It’s never an option.
The bus pulls up to the terminal, and we begin piling off and getting our suitcases from underneath the bus. Mine is a dark teal color with bright green straps that wrap around it in both directions. Just so I can easily pick it out in a flood of suitcases.
The first leg of our flight is between L.A. and New York. From New York, we’ll be landing in Reykjavík, Iceland. There’s a two-hour layover in New York.
“Ready?” Byndley asks as we gather on the sidewalk. When she’s sure we’re all there, she leads us inside. I imagine we’re following her like ducklings through the departures terminal until we get to the self-check-in terminals.
She calls us up one at a time, and I pay close attention to the names of the students I’ll be spending this next week with.
I wonder if I’ll make friends. Most of my friends are teammates.
I’m not sure if I can consider Eddy a friend.
We’re roommates. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, I suppose.
There’s Sarabeth, Anna, Mercy. Then Corwin, Samuel, and I. Xile, Jerome, Philomena, and Wendy. We tag our checked bags and then get in the line to drop them off while I mentally chant their names to remember them.
On our way to security, Wendy falls in line beside me. She doesn’t look at me more than to offer a smile. We don’t speak or anything. Still, I like that she’s beside me.
Security takes a while. What they say about the long lines really is true. It takes a hot minute for our group to get through before trekking through the terminal until we reach our gate, and Byndley faces us.
“Okay. You’re free to do whatever for the next hour. Be back here at eight. Boarding begins at eight-twenty. No need to eat dinner unless you’re starving. There will be a full complimentary meal on board.”
This is one of the busiest airports I’ve been to.
I usually fly closer to the RDU campus, Redding Regional.
It’s small and kind of expensive since it’s so small, but it’s close and RDU provides shuttle services during usual breaks and ends/beginnings of term.
That means I don’t have to navigate trying to make an eight-hour trip from LAX up to Glensdale.
“You can load your bags here,” Katai says. “Keep your backpacks on you, but one of us will be here to watch over them.”
I add my bag to the pile and, for a minute, I stare out the window at the planes.
Our gate is empty, but there’s an enormous one parked at the gate beside ours.
It looks almost as if there are two floors of seating.
That must be one of those luxury planes that basically have apartment rooms in them, like I’ve seen on ShareIt.
As I turn to wander back toward the shops and restaurants, Jerome falls into step beside me. “Hey. Brevan, right?”
I nod.
“Cool. I’m Jerome.”
“Hi,” I greet in return.
“Where you headed?”
I shake my head. “Nowhere. Just want to keep on my feet while we’re here since we’ll be sitting for a while. Thought I’d check out the shops.”
“Cool. Mind some company?”
“Sure.”
“I’m so excited about this trip,” he says. “I’ve never been out of the country.”
“I’ve been to Canada a few times, but I’ve never been off the continent.”
“I haven’t even been to Canada,” he says, laughing. “Silly, right? I live in freaking Montana, right there, and I’ve never been across the border.”
“It’s not as convenient as it could be. Needing to pay a hundred dollars for a passport just to drive across a bridge seems… dumb.”
“Money grab,” Jerome says.
“Passports might as well be trackers,” Wendy says as she comes up alongside Jerome. “They know which country we’re in at all times.”
“But most countries are pretty big,” I say.
“So, I have a Global Entry card. It’s this card that allows me to skip the really long lines at customs when entering some countries.
But then the card arrived, and it came in this little sleeve that states, ‘Keep card in sleeve when not in use, to protect the card’s sensitive electronics and your identity.
’” She gives us a pointed look. “Sensitive electronics.”
“To be fair, credit cards hold sensitive electronics. That’s what the chip in them is,” Jerome says, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced it’s the same thing.
Wendy shrugs. “Whatever. It’s not like I’m doing anything that needs to be watched. It’s just… sus, you know? Like we’re cattle that need to be chipped.”
“American freedom,” Jerome says, a bemused smile on his face.
I don’t add anything to this conversation because… I’m not sure what to say about it. This isn’t an area I know anything about. So I walk along quietly and listen to them.
“We were just saying that we haven’t really been out of the country. Brevan has been to Canada. But you have this special card. That means you travel often?”
“Mm,” Wendy says, shrugging. “I have family in Wales, so I travel to visit them over the summer. Less so now that I’m on the West Coast, but my family lives just outside of Boston, so getting to Wales was pretty easy and relatively cheap, too.
Since I stayed here for a summer course that isn’t offered during the school year last summer, I missed my yearly holiday in Wales. ”
“Bummer,” Jerome says.
“I hope to travel more. I make it sound like I’ve only been to Wales, but once you’re in Europe, traveling throughout is so easy, cheap, and quick. Did you know there’s a train that goes under the English Channel into mainland Europe?”
My eyes widen, and I shake my head.
“Wow, cool shit,” Jerome says.
“Right? It’s pretty wild. I’ve traveled a lot around Europe, but I generally fly in and out of London, which allows me the Global Entry perks.”
I listen to Wendy and Jerome talk about travel for a while and then excuse myself. I’m not sure they notice when I leave them. It wasn’t my conversation anyway, and that’s okay. Some people hit it off, and some don’t. Not everyone will be friends. I’m not upset about it.
I’m back in plenty of time. Several in our group are lingering around the gate. I stand nearby but not so close that they’d feel I’m being intrusive.
Though I’m considered a relatively big guy, I’ve been told that I don’t take up a lot of room.
Unless I call attention to myself, I tend to go unnoticed.
That has its perks. But right now, as I lean against the window behind where Anna and Philomena are sitting, I can’t stop myself from overhearing their quiet conversation.
They’re… not gossiping exactly. Maybe judging is the right word.
At first, I don’t hear much wrong with it since they’re talking about Sarabeth recently winning an award for her advancements in robotics.
It’s really impressive. Exciting. I didn’t even know the school had a robotics, uh, team?
Group? Program? I don’t even know what I’m looking to say.
Anyway, that’s really neat. I wonder if she’d be okay if I asked her about it. I imagine robot battles, but I bet it’s far more than that.
Then I hear my name, and my shoulders tense.
Anna scoffs. “Of course, we have to have the token hot guy whose only contribution is his muscles.”
“Typical dumb athlete,” Philomena agrees. “I suppose that’s how you round out a diverse group, though, right? Not everyone is smart.”
My stomach flips as a sour taste fills my mouth.
Tears sting my eyes, and I quietly move away.
I don’t want to hear anymore. I can’t hear anymore.
That’s how they see me, isn’t it? Dumb athlete with nothing to contribute.
I’m here to make sure it’s clear that even stupid people have a place in the RDU community.
I feel sick. Getting as far away from them as I can while remaining within our gate area puts me against the wall and facing the window where our plane is pulling in. I knew I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have accepted the invitation. I should have backed out because I just don’t belong here.
I stuff my hands into my pockets and find the little stress ball I’d been playing with while on the bus. The one I’d taken from the bag full of our gifted stuff. My hand rhythmically squeezes it as I watch the big plane that’s going to take us across the US maneuver its way into position.
It’s too late to back out now. They won’t let me camp out at the airport until the group arrives home. Maybe I should suggest it anyway.