Free Twisted Proposal by M.V. Miles

and destinations of the different flights, along with their gates numbers. Beneath that was a map with a directory of services in the airport: a McDonald’s, several shops, and even a day spa.
    “Don’t do that again,” Stuart said joining me.
    “What are you talking about?” I asked, playing dumb.
    “We’re at Gate 11, so why don’t you go ahead and I’ll meet you there?”
                  Wait, he just going to let me go? “Okay, where’s that?” I turned around, unsure of my surroundings.
    Startled, he fixed his gaze on me. “You’ve never flown before?”
                  “I figured that was obvious.”
                  He scratched his nose and motioned for me to follow him. I cursed myself for not taking the opportunity to run away. We arrived at our gate five minutes later, a secluded area with green and red plastic chairs. People chatted in small groups and others were on their cell phones or computers. Now what?  
    “So why don’t you relax and I’ll be back,” he said.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To get a drink.”
    “Can I come?”
    “You’re sixteen.”
    I shrugged. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy a drink.
    “Just sit here and wait for the plane.” He walked off.
    Fine, maybe I will and maybe I won’t. I sat in a red chair with my bag on my lap and watched him disappear down the hall, his phone plastered against his ear. Was he talking about me?
    I played with the ticket in my hand. If I offered to sell it, would anyone buy it? Would it be enough to get me home? I rose to leave just as a tall boy in a video game shirt blocked my path.
                  “Is this seat taken?” he asked, pointing to the chair next to me. I sat back down. Where did he come from?
    “No.”
                  “Good.” He plopped into the chair, bumping me with his elbow, as he dug into his bag. How rude. He pulled out a small mp3 player and offered it to me.
    “Uh, no thanks.” I wasn’t going to take anything from a complete stranger.
    “Well, just so you know your dad’s paying me to make sure you don’t run off, so the least I could do is entertain you.”
    What? “My father’s paying you?”
    “Yeah, Mr. McDaniel right? He showed me your picture and gave me forty bucks. How cool is that?”
    “It’s not.” I muttered.
    “You look like you’ve had a rough day,” the boy commented.
    “Don’t pretend to care about me,”
    “Just making conversation.” He returned.
    I didn’t want to be babysat, the need to jolt from this place increased. “You know where the restroom is?” There had to be more than one way out.
    I darted down the hall ahead of him annoyed that Stuart had the gall to hire a random guy to watch over me.
    “Hey,” the kid said, catching up to me, but I didn’t let him finished, because I spotted the women’s restroom.
    Inside, I paced the floor, annoyed that Stuart had me pegged. I stopped in front of the counter and emptied the cash in my pockets, counting it. Forty-five dollars and some change. That wouldn’t get me anywhere. Shit, what was I going to do? I pulled my hair back and forced myself to think. Maybe there was something useful in the keepsake boxes?
    So I went to the wheelchair stall, locked the door, and sat on the cold tile floor. After pulling everything out of both containers, I started with a bunch of IOU’s and realized that if I did return home there would be people hunting me down for money now that she was dead. Elizabeth borrowed money from anyone willing to give it to her. No matter the interest. I couldn’t go back home. Maybe I could go to the city?
    Picking up the stack of photos and going through them, I realized that I didn’t know anything about my mother and aunt. They were laughing, dancing, even in strange poses, like the way models in magazines. It was weird. I’d never seen half of these before and I’d gone through the rose keepsake box several times. Flipping