Fairmont Forever

Aidan Brookes couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that the airplane seat was uncomfortable, far from it. His dad used frequent flier miles to upgrade them to business class. He also knew he was tired so that wasn’t it either. They had gotten up early that morning and left their apartment in England for the last time. Customs and security took forever and they confiscated Aidan’s pocket tool, which he had forgotten to pack in his suitcase.

He looked in the window at his reflection, curly hair and a handsome face stared back at him. He had been gone a long time and he was thinking about high school. The first year in England was okay; he had e-mailed Jerry and Howard a lot and they kept him entertained with stories about freshman year at Fairmont. By the second year he was making a friend or two in England and was out of contact a little, a lot actually. The last e-mail he got from Jerry was about some changes at the school and a new group of kids. But that was months ago.

And now he was on the plane. Somewhere down there was the Atlantic and then they would cross the US and land in San Francisco. A colleague from his dad’s engineering firm was supposed to meet them and take them out to their house near San Jose. A shipping container would arrive in a week or two with all their stuff and he would be home.

It didn’t feel like he was going home. When he left he had just finished middle school and he imagined his room, filled with middle school stuff. It would actually be empty except for his bed and a desk. He had to clear it out pretty well to make room for the renters. So, he would be able to fill it up again with stuff. What had changed he thought?

He was taller, almost as tall as his dad, and his hair was a lot longer. Everyone in his crowd in England had longer hair. He kept up with his trumpet and even played in a jazz quartet after school. They were invited to play at a couple of student events and some private parties, so he knew he was pretty good. He wondered what the band program at Fairmont was like.

He sighed and tried to get comfortable, but the memory of that ghostly reflection kept popping up in his head, that and his empty room.

When he got home the desk, the bed, and a dresser were still there. It was sunny though, and being tucked up at the end of the house overlooking the hills was kind of cool. He had forgotten about the great view. He unpacked his suitcase and put his trumpet on the wide windowsill. His music stand would arrive with the rest of their things.

He had a day and a half until school started and not a lot to do. They didn’t have any computer set up, and his cell phone wouldn’t work here. His mom promised to take him out shopping on Sunday. All he had to wear was in the suitcase. He didn’t even know what people would be wearing here. He was in touch with English fashions but worried he would stand out as either really behind or really ahead. He couldn’t decide which would be worse and then thought they amounted to the same thing; he would look different.