When Sydney Sherwood was thirteen, she fell in love. She was utterly enamoured with Carter Pearson - the cute, enigmatic, brilliant fourteen year old who lived across the street. But, after only a few months, Carter and his family disappeared, leavi...
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The pilot's voice was tinny through the speakers as he informed us that we were due to arrive at our destination of London Gatwick at exactly six o'clock in the evening, though it would feel like two in the afternoon to my jet-lagged body. I settled back into my seat and began to work at untangling the wires of my earphones. With a contented smile on my face, I put them in and started playing a soft, acoustic playlist. The plane started to rush along the runway, my excitement building in concurrence with the speed we were going. After possibly the most emotional four months of my life, I was finally going home.
The final days of my first semester had been long and slow without Alice, Maya or Carter. He hadn't contacted me at all since leaving for his trip and I decided it was healthiest to block out all thoughts of him, instead of letting my mind wander onto what exactly he was getting up to that kept him so busy. Other than getting lunch with Michael once, my days had been filled with a lot of sleeping, Netflix and packing.
More than I'd expected to be a couple of weeks ago, I was truly glad to be going back to England.
Soon enough, I felt myself beginning to doze off. The flight was seven hours and I'd not been to sleep all night because of how early I'd had to leave for the airport. So I let the whirring of the plane and the music from my earphones lull me to sleep.
I woke with a jolt, noticing instantly that my mouth felt too dry. My eyes darted around me for a moment before I acclimatised to my surroundings. Checking my watch, already set to UK time, I saw that there was less than half an hour left of the journey. I'd managed to sleep away almost the entire length of the flight and I felt far better for it.
When the plane landed, I couldn't stop smiling. I sped through the airport as quickly as possible, relieved to see that my suitcase was one of the first out on the baggage claim. The next room was crowded with people, all seemingly waiting for the other passengers who'd flown with me. At the front of the group, though, was my Mum, holding a sign that read welcome homeSydney! in bold letters surrounded by hearts.
I rushed over to her and let her scoop me into a tight hug. America was great, but this was still undoubtedly home.
The first thing to greet me when we finally arrived at home was the sound of dog paws scurrying across the wooden floor. I opened the door and Pippa the dog launched herself at me, a frenzy of fur and licking and a wagging tail.
"Looks like she remembers you," Mum commented with a smile.
Once Pippa had calmed down enough for me to actually move through the hallway, I put my luggage down and went into the kitchen. Everything looked identical to when I'd left back in August: the same pictures in frames on the walls, eclectic collection of coffee cups in the cabinet, dog bed in the corner. Yet I felt like I'd become someone entirely new.
We'd already covered the basics in the drive up from the airport - how was the flight? when are exam results out? - so now she wasted no time in diving in with something she'd clearly been holding onto for a while.
