N O E L 

I DISLIKE, LOATHE and hate crowded places more than I hated bugs.

Why do airports have to be so crowded? I love travelling but the crowd is a big turn off and the fact that I'm going through this crowd alone is making me want to chip a tooth in anger and my nerves aren't helping.

I hate my mum right now for leaving me to go through all this alone. When she told me about it a week ago, it didn't sound so bad. But the minute I started waiting for my plane ride to the announced, I realized it was a bad idea. I don't mind travelling alone, I enjoyed it. Sitting by the window, while flying second class and playing my games in silence were the perks.

The parts I don't like are the ones involving people, heavy luggage and lines.

I bend my head down, adjusting my dark sunglasses, holding on tightly to my suitcase and duffle bag before I start squeezing my way past people of different cultures, race and tribe – heading straight for the exit.

As my boots make it out the airport and people, I release a breath I've been holding in, then take in the air New York City has to offer… wasn’t the most fresh and relaxing but it was new. I dramatically push my glasses up, so that they are perched up above my beanie, letting my eyes look around. I really can't believe I'm here. If I ever thought I'd be leaving California, I didn't think I'd be leaving it for NYC. Maybe somewhere in Africa, but not here. The city that never sleeps – I love my sleep.

I snap back to the present as my eyes move around people holding out papers, cardboards and even a clip board with names written on it. I know she's not here but I still search… a part of me hoping that she's here. She said; I'll try to come pick you up.

So much for trying.

I whip out my phone and ring her. She picks on the second ring. "Hi baby."

"Hi Mum," I shrug a shoulder to balance my duffle bag. "So, are you coming to pick me?"

I hear her gasp and I roll my eyes, knowing the direction this phone call is going. "You've landed?"

"Yes. Ten minutes ago."

"Oh dear,” a little pause. "Baby, I can't make it. I lost track of time and I just put something in the oven, it’s going to take about ten minutes. I really don't want it ruined."

My disappointment is momentarily replaced by surprised. "You cooked?!" I let out a short laugh. "Oh God, Mum you didn't have to."

My mum isn't exactly the kitchen cooking type. Or the kitchen type at all. Or even a cooking type. She'll rather not take a bath for two days than to lift a finger into making Mac and cheese.

I imagined her pouting as she replied. "I wanted to. Anyway, are you going to wait for me?"

"No." I rush out. I can't wait for her and have everyone look at my exhausted self in pity before going on their merry way. "I'll find my way myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Mother. I survived a plane ride; I can definitely survive a taxi."

"Okay baby, be careful. Look around very well and please don't get yourself kidnapped."

"Yes, Mum." I say ending the call with a light chuckle. 'Don't get yourself kidnapped' like it's going to be my choice if some bored soul tries to kidnap me. I'm not sure if she said that because she's a caring mum or because of the ransom money that would be demanded.

Both, I guess.

After securing my phone, I drag my things to a waiting taxi. "Are you going?" I ask the bearded taxi man, popping my head into the passenger seat window. He nods at me and I nod back then wait for him to come out and help me put my bags into the car.

He never did. After sending him an irritated frown, I pack my things in myself and get in after them, preferring to seat in the back seat squeezed with my luggage than at the front with the lazy taxi beard man. I told him the address and I finally let myself relax when the taxi starts moving.

I've been to NYC once for vacation and I enjoyed myself greatly. But that's the thing about Vacations, its brief and the new environment and places keep you fascinated and entertained until it’s time to leave. Because somewhere in your mind, you know that you'll leave. Eventually, you'll be leaving the place so; you can help but enjoy it while you can. Now I'm here again and I'm not leaving anytime soon. I can’t help but wonder if I'm going to like my stay here.

Can this city keep me entertained and fascinated for one year? Or more importantly, would it ever feel like home?

My mother and I fell into the shackles of debts after the death of my father. It was my dad supporting us all through until Cancer snatched him away – without permission, without warning. It’s a miracle that we've survived two years without him. It feels like yesterday to me. But the calendars and my added inch in height say it's been two very quiet years.

We were thrown into confusion after dad died and looking back, I'm so proud of my mother for holding up pretty well. We made every waking decision together after dad died, including the ones that we regret. Everything led to us putting our house in California up for sale a month ago and is the reason why a Murphy family was moving into our house. My home.

I don't know if dad would be proud of us or turning in his grave with disappointment. We lost our home and furniture too. We only took highly important things and for a month now, we've been slowly moving our things here to New York. I think everything in that house is highly important and I just wish the Murphy's would cherish the things we left behind. I doubt that and it’s sad for me.

When my maternal grandfather and the only grandfather I knew was alive, he and my mother – his daughter, weren't on good terms. Mum thought grandpa hated her for getting married without his consent and didn't want to see him for objecting to her happiness. But now that's he's dead, she's regretting her decisions, especially since he left his house to her. The house we were moving into. If not for my late grandpa, we'll probably be living in the streets or hotels till we're penniless.

I spend the rest of the ride looking around. No matter what, New York is really beautiful. I'm caught off guard when the taxi comes to a stop and I look out the window, my eyes settling on a modern day simple two storey building. It beautiful but the lawn and fence needs lots of work. I visited grandpa once when he was alive, during my vacation but that was a long time ago. I vaguely remember this building.

After confirming from the taxi man that this indeed is the address, I get down. I pay the taxi man and get my things out of the car, all by myself. We had neighbors and despite the lawn the fence, the house was really not bad and more than okay. Our house in Cali was bigger but - beggars can't be choosers.

I raise my hand about to knock but stop and on second choice I just open the door and step in. This is my house now.

"Mum?" I call, and then perceive baked food and smile. "Hello?"

"Noel! Is that you?" The unmistakable voice of my mum calls as she appears out of a corner, wearing an apron and bathed head to toe in flour. She looks like a cook — which she is not.

I drop my bags and run into her arms. My clothes need washing anyway, so I don't mind the flour. "You feel thinner."

"That's what happens when you're baring the weight of the whole world." She says and I laugh in response.

"The whole world?” I shake my head slightly, “Yeah right, Grace Atkins." I look around and turn to her, "so... cooking?"

She grabs my hand eagerly, "come and taste." I let her drag me into a messed up kitchen and practically throw me into a dining chair. She brings forth a pie and I laugh in amusement at how her face is glowing in pride.

"Apple pie, try it."

I shake my head, having second thoughts about eating. She was too excited and I didn't want to end up with food poisoning. "Are you sure about this?"

"Come on. Have some Faith in me." She whined clutching onto her cooking mittens.

I nod, and then take a piece out, throwing it into my mouth and silently praying that I don't bite any cockroach or any anti pie thing. It’s surprisingly good and safe.

"How's it?"

"It’s okay. Edible." I answer taking another bite. I love apple pie and I was too busy with my game to actually eat plane food.

Her face falls, disappointed. "Just edible?"

I nod, distracted as I dig on. "Baby steps, mum."

"Why are you still eating it then?" She asks and I just shrug. Then in one fast motion, she drags the pie out and walks away.

"Come on Mum, I'm famished!" I cry out, running after her.

---

"Noel, get up!" I hear my mum say and I groan, pulling a pillow over my head. But I still hear her say, "Get off that bed!"

"Noel!” I feel and hear my comforter being yanked off. "Do you know what the time is?"

"Mum, go away." I plead, shooing her away with my hand. I still need twenty four more hours of sleep.

"Today is your first day of school. Aren't you excited?" She asks shaking me.

"I'm not." I answer accompanied by a groan as I sit up and rub my sleepy eyes.

"You'll soon be. Come down in five." She says, like that's the easiest thing to do before leaving me on my own.

I haven't set my alarm clock yet. I've been procrastinating, along with unpacking my things. I crawl out my new bed and into the bathroom, taking a shower that wakes me up. After that, I wear knee ripped denim jeans, a black top, and flannel long sleeves over it, a converse and I finish it up with my milky beanie.

As I walk into the kitchen, I can't help but be pleased with how fast I got in here. Back at home, it took longer to get down, with the spiral stairs and all. I open the fridge prepared to fix myself a cereal breakfast but then I raise my brows at the packed fridge filled with food ranging from healthy to unhealthy. I reach for a milk cartoon and save another from falling off.

"Isn't this too much, Mum? We've got to minimize and plan our how much we spend."

She pouts. "I know but I can't help it. When I enter into the supermarket, it’s like I'm in another world and there's all this things I want to buy."

I send a warning eye while sealing back my cereal box. "We'll go grocery shopping together next time then."

She grins, "Fine by me." When I start eating, she speaks up again. "Are you now excited about school?"

"Nope," I answer with a mouth full and swallow. "I'm just going to let high school roll off my back."

"Baby you've got to be serious this time. A scholarship would come in really handy."

"Yes." I tell her dumping my bowl into the sink. "That's if I survive this year."

"Noel!'

I roll my eyes discretely slinging on my backpack. "Fine, I'll try my best."

She sighs, "You're not washing your bowl?"

I ignore her question, heading to the door and fishing out my phone and earpiece. "Laters."

"Good luck!"

I fix my earpiece, tapping into the Subway Surf game on my phone. To say that I'm not serious about school would be an understatement of the year. I watch a bike roar out of the neighborhood from our neighbor’s house and I silently wish the unknown person a safe journey.

My new school, Corner view High, wasn't far from home. It was within walking distance and is quite perfect for me since I don't own a car, bicycle, tricycle or anything with wheels. My eyes shift from the road to the game on my phone that's just waiting for me to tap in.

"Ok surfers, where were we?"

•••

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The heart wants what it wants. There's no logic to these things. You meet someone, you fall in love and that's that.