Flying

The song “Tongue Tied” is blaring through the car speakers as me and two of my closest friends abuse our new driver’s license and speed down a country highway. The two friends consist of a girl I met in kindergarten named Madison and a boy I met a month ago who will become both my boyfriend and ex-boyfriend within the next month. His name is Jun. Him and his family moved to Minnesota from China when he was eight years old. Because of this, Jun has the responsibility of running the house, which in turn, gives him an ample amount of freedom. Together, him and Madison give me the perfect mix of familiarity and uncertainty. 

The summer going into Sophomore year of high school was filled with late night drives. Late night meant before our curfew, 11:00 pm, but after 9:00 pm so the sun was just about fleeting the horizon. This time in the day curates a cotton candy sky while maintaining the ideal summer temperature.  

The high frequency of late-night drives prompted assigned seats. Jun, having the most reliable car and least strict parents, is always in the driver’s seat. Jun offers me the front seat every time, but I decline and let Madison have the responsibility of navigation and music for the night. I take my usual comfortable spot in the middle seat. This spot works for me. I can lean forward to become a part of the conversation or slump back to simply enjoy the ride.  

To my right and left are evergreen trees coated in the smallest amount of light from the car’s headlights. The Country highway that we frequent for our late-night drives is located 20 minutes directly north of our homes in the Minneapolis suburbs. After 9:00 pm it was lucky to see another car on this road.  

 I look up into the sunroof of Jun’s 2007 Toyota Camry and see the crisp summer air whip through Madison’s long blond hair. I think about how her hair has been pink, two different shades of purple and red all within the last year. She was always braver than me. 

I see headlights in the distance and pull on her sweatshirt signaling for her to sit down. She bounces into her seat and with an enthusiastic tone she says, “Allison you have to try that, it feels like you’re flying!” The song switches from “Tongue Tied” to “All too Well” making all three of us roll our eyes. Hoping that was enough of a distraction, I ignore her comment.  

I look at the bright smile across Madison’s face and get shocked with an unexpected wave of envy. I am transported back to carnival days when my friends would beg me to ride the rollercoaster with them and I would decline every time. Watching my friends smile and laugh without me took away my fear and replaced it with jealousy.  

My memory is interrupted by a text from my mom telling me it’s almost my curfew and I better be on my way back. I relay the message to Jun prompting him to make the worlds sharpest U-turn making my seatbelt lock around my body. 

Knowing this may be the last drive of the summer, I surprise myself when I say “Jun, could you open the sunroof?” 

“Really! I’m on it” he replies in disbelief. Madison’s hands slap together as she lets out a nearly deafening shriek. I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand my body out of the sunroof. I hit the crisp summer air and feel a wave of chills wash over me. I can hear the muffled sounds of my friends’ voices and without looking at them I know they are smiling. I wondered how something I avoided so adamantly and blatantly could feel so free and so liberating. 

I feel my fear melt out of me like the last bit of snow in April. I stretch out both my arms eagle style and truly feel like I’m flying. The little girl that was scared to go on the rollercoaster is nowhere to be found. I am overwhelmed with the feeling of adrenaline and excitement. I think to myself, this must be how it feels to be brave.