Page 25

WILLOW

W hen my feet hit solid ground after being trapped on that plane from hours, I swear I could cry from the relief.

Not because I hate flying. I don’t, besides having to deal with takeoff.

However, being stuck in that middle seat for four hours and having to deal with Tyler’s snoring and Blaise’s existence?

The latter I quickly left behind because I didn't want him to start up another conversation with me.

I was starting to think this was a social experiment designed to test the last bit of my patience.

Not that I have any left. Especially now that twentyish students and two professors have to make their way to baggage claim in a completely different climate than we’re used to in Virginia this time of year.

Yes, Puerto Rico isn’t as warm this time of year as it is during other months, but it’s warm enough for me to be thankful I stuck my winter coat in my checked luggage and decided a hoodie was all I needed until I got here. I take off said piece of clothing and tie it around my waist.

"Everyone!" Professor Wallace's voice is somehow louder than the airport announcements playing in both Spanish and English. "We'll proceed to baggage claim as a group, then board our shuttle to our hotel!"

I fall into step with the group, deliberately positioning myself near the back.

The less social interaction required, the better.

My brain feels like it's running on emergency power only. The faster I can get to my room, where it’ll hopefully be just me and Madison Hollins for at least a couple hours so I can calm my nervous system down, the better.

Of course, that’s when someone laughs too loudly to my right.

Another person is FaceTiming their parents already.

Tyler is still half-asleep, and I watch as he almost stumbles into someone else who looks equally disoriented.

I’m slightly jealous since I wasn’t able to sleep at all on the plane and that would have helped tremendously.

"Hey, are you Willow?"

A girl with wavy blonde hair and warm brown eyes slides into step beside me as we follow the group toward baggage claim. She's wearing a Crestwood University sweatshirt and has an easy smile. Her vibe somehow doesn't irritate me on sight.

"Yeah, that’s me." I give a small nod. "Apologies, but I don’t know your name."

"Madison. Maddie for short." She extends her hand for a quick shake. "I figured I should introduce myself before we're stuck sharing a hotel room for a week. Professor Wallace pointed you out."

I appreciate the directness. "Good call."

"I did want to let you know that I'm a morning person, but I promise not to be obnoxious about it," Madison says. "And as far as I know I don't snore, so there's that."

"Already better than Tyler on the plane," I mutter.

Madison laughs. "I heard him from three rows back with headphones on. I was impressed."

I find myself smirking at Madison's comment, which is a small miracle considering my current state. "Well, at least I know you'll be more tolerable than the guys I was sitting next to on the flight."

"First day of travel is always rough," Madison says, adjusting her backpack strap. "By tomorrow, you'll be living your best tropical life. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself."

We reach baggage claim and our group surrounds it. Professor Wallace and Professor Moore are still trying to maintain order, but it's clear everyone's exhaustion mixed with excitement is winning out.

"So what's your major?" Madison asks, staring down the empty carousel as if she has the ability to make our suitcases materialize.

"Journalism. You?"

"Mathematics." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

That one word forces me to do a double take. It’s as if someone threw a water balloon at my face. “I didn’t know people actually majored in Math. That’s not meant to be shady, but wow I’m blown away. That’s amazing.”

Madison laughs. "I get that reaction a lot. Math is cool when you really get into it."

"I'll take your word for it," I say, struggling to imagine anyone finding joy in the subject that gave me panic attacks throughout high school.

My attention is drawn to the baggage carousel because it starts turning. The first few suitcases start tumbling down the conveyor belt. When some of the students in our group move forward, Madison and I hang back slightly.

"So is this your first time in Puerto Rico?" Madison asks.

I nod as I watch the carousel for my suitcase. "I joined super last minute, but I’m so happy I did. At least I will be when we reach our hotel."

Her hand flies to her chest as her mouth drops open. "Same! I heard about the trip and applied the day the applications were due.”

I spot a flash of familiar navy blue with a bright yellow luggage tag.

"That's mine," I say, moving toward the carousel. I grab my suitcase, noticing immediately that there is a small tear on the handle. Hopefully it will keep itself together and won’t be another thing I’ll have to end up dealing with on this trip.

"Nice tag," Madison comments as I set my suitcase down. "Smart move. Everything looks the same otherwise."

"My mom's idea," I admit. "She's big on 'practical solutions to avoidable problems.'"

Madison points to a bright pink suitcase making its way around. "That one's mine. No tag needed when it looks like Barbie threw up on it."

I can't help but laugh as she retrieves her unmistakable luggage. She wasn’t wrong.

"Everyone, once you have your bags, please gather by the exit doors!" Professor Wallace's voice cuts through the noise. "Our shuttle should be arriving momentarily!"

When we wrangle all of our things, our group steps outside and immediately gets hit with a wall of heat. It's not scorching by any means and I’m grateful that the humidity isn’t that high here this time of year. I’m already regretting my choice of sweatpants for the flight and can’t wait to change.

It takes a few minutes, but two white shuttles pull up to the curb and I assume these are our rides. Professor Moore gestures toward them with the enthusiasm of a tour guide on their first day.

"Group A in the first shuttle, Group B in the second, and Group C in the third! Your group assignments were in the email Professor Wallace and I sent yesterday!"

I pull out my phone to check which group I'm in while trying to manage my suitcase without doing more damage to my handle.

"Group B," Madison says, peering over my shoulder at my phone. "Me too. Guess we're sticking together."

I nod, secretly relieved to have someone familiar beside me as we approach the second shuttle. It also means that if Blaise is on this shuttle, he won’t be able to sit next to me. The driver, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile, hops out to help load our luggage.

"Bienvenidos!" he says, taking my suitcase. He doesn’t take as much care with my handle as I would have, but I can’t fault him for it when his job is to get us to our accommodations safely.

"Gracias," I say with a small smile.

Madison and I climb into the vehicle and find two seats in the middle of the bus. Madison slides in by the window, and I collapse next to her, my body finally registering just how exhausted I am. The air conditioning is blasting and I’m grateful for it.

"Look at that sky," Madison whispers, pointing out the window. "You don't get blue like that in Virginia."

She's right. Even through the tinted glass, the sky is a different kind of blue. The best way I can describe it is that it’s deeper and more intense. It’s absolutely stunning.

The shuttle fills up quickly. I spot Tyler coming aboard, looking much more awake than he did the last time I saw him. Still, he drops into a seat near the front, immediately leaning his head against the window. Poor guy.

Just as I'm thinking I might have escaped further awkwardness for the day, Blaise steps onto the shuttle. Because of course he does. Because the universe isn't done testing me yet.

He has a few choices about where he can sit, but he chooses the one directly across the aisle from me. Our eyes meet briefly before he looks away. I, in turn, force myself to stare out the window, pretending to be fascinated by the airport parking lot.

Someone at the front of the bus clears their throat and I look over to find Professor Wallace standing there.

"Welcome, Group B! Our ride to the hotel should take about thirty minutes, depending on traffic.

Once we arrive, you'll receive your room keys and have a couple of hours to freshen up before our welcome dinner at a local restaurant. "

Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes to shower, change, and try to become a functioning human being again. It doesn't seem like enough, but I guess it will have to do.

As the shuttle pulls away from the airport, I make sure to focus on the scenery outside of my window versus the man who decided to sit across from me.

It feels like we’ve barely left the airport before I’m able to really pinpoint how much Puerto Rico differs from Virginia.

The buildings aren’t super tall, but they’re bright and include many colors like peach, turquoise, and yellow.

Some look freshly renovated, others are cracked and worn, but they still look very much a part of the same community.

There’s a bakery on one corner, a hardware store on the next, and a wall covered in a mural I only catch part of.

It might have had waves and birds, but I blinked and it was gone.

"It's like a beautiful postcard, but better," Madison whispers beside me, her breath slightly fogging the window as she leans closer to get a better look at all of the sights.