A Hand to Hold

Arriving

"So, where you from?" The cabbie in the front asked me.

"A small town in Canada, you probably wouldn't know it." I reply, clutching my carry on bag close to my heart. This sent him on a small tirade about that one time he travelled to Canada. Or was it Niagara Falls. I was fine with this, it allowed me to just pay attention to the sights of New York and my music.

The last three days at home were mostly full of music, staying up in my room, or taking walks to the library. I didn't have many friends back home, so I didn't have many goodbyes to say, just the few I said at graduation. By the time this morning came, I was ready to throw everything in the taxi and run for the hills. I said a quick goodbye to my mom early this morning, who was asleep with her normal companion on the couch and off I went.

The plane ride was, once again, filled with my music and looking through my binder of selections of what I would sing in my first day of classes. I wasn't sure if I would need one but I was excitingly thinking of the options should he ask me to sing anything.

"Hey kid!" the cab driver called back, and I was bolted from my thoughts to the now. He gave me a little wave to the outside and added "We're here."

I took a quick glimpse of her new home before quickly giving the man the correct amount of money for the trip. She climbed out of the back and was meet by a rather tall boy with bright brown eyes at the back of the cab.

"Hey there!" he exclaimed as he shoved his hand toward me. I gave it a questioning look before he gave a light chuckle and continued. "I'm not a crazy new Yorker I promise you. I'm Dillon, I'm your RA." I reluctantly put my hand in his and shake, more lackluster than him. "You just got here so early, I figured I would meet you and help you with your bags."

Looking at him now I was surprised I didn't notice before that he was wearing a bright green shirt with the school logo of the school roaring Leopard and the quote "Move in the Herd" in a circle around it. He had dark brown curly hair and an "everyone is my friend" air about him.

"Um, hi." I respond, still clutching my carry on bag to my chest, pushing down the little smile that started pulling at the corners of my mouth. I didn't have to let him know that he was as charming as he thought he was. "I'm – "

"Christine!" He announced, starting to open the back of the cab and take out some of my heavier bags, "From Port Hope, Ontario, Canada! Here for . . ."

"Vocal Performance, yeah. Listen!" I exclaim starting to try to take my big suitcase from under his arm, "You don't have to help, I can get them my self."

He simply tugged it out of my grasp and laughed "Please you're on the 15th floor and have more than 5 bags! I'll just grab the heaviest ones." And with that he gave me a little wink and headed in the building with my bags in tow, leaving only two small bags for me to carry.