(Author's note: Speech written in italics is actually spoken or written in another language by the indicated character. It has been translated and noted this way for the reader's benefit.)

Chapter 1

From up here, the little people and their cars start to look like the playing pieces from The Game of Life. I stare at the minimal view through the airplane window until there's nothing to see except clouds, then turn back to the even more beautiful view of the seat in front of me. Eleven hours left to go.

We're heading to Japan this time. Mom has always loved the East. Now that she's up to traveling again, she really wants to go over there. Personally, I don't think it's much more fantastic than any other place we've been.

"We have now reached our cruising height of one thousand and eight hundred feet. Passengers may now feel free to unbuckle their seatbelts and move about the cabin." The captain says over the intercom, and then the speech is repeated in Japanese. I put the tray down in front of me and grab my laptop from the empty neighboring seat, setting it on the also minimal surface. I flip the top of my machine up and power it up, watching the screen while it boots.

My mom named me Emiko, even though we're completely American, because she was obsessed with the Ancient Eastern names-as-blessings thing, and thought it would make me seem "exotic." We visited Japan before, about eleven years ago, when I was seven. Mom wanted me to "experience" the culture from which I was named. I picked up a handful of phrases then (Hoishi des ne!), and only remember a few of those now.

I double-click the Rosetta Stone icon on my desktop. Mom was excited to buy it for me last year. She thought we could have conversations in Japanese and whatever. It's a good program. It ought to be, what with posting a cost of multiple hundreds and all.

I click into the reviews. I've already got it all down, but it never hurts to review. Sometimes you forget the little things.

That's what my brother used to say. He was great at languages and school and memorization and everything. He always did his best, and everyone admired him for it. Especially me. He could do absolutely anything. I used to think he could fly, when I was really little. He was like Superman to me. The last time we went trick-or-treating, he dressed up with a towel around his shoulders just to poke fun at me, and I laughed, even though it was really stupid. We had a good time, and I forgot for a while that I was sixteen, and too old for kid stuff like that.

On that trip, there was this awesome-looking house across the street, so Ryan led the way, his towel spread heroically out between his hands behind him. He stopped in the middle when I hesitated and he called for me in his "super" voice. I smiled at him and started to step into the street when a huge yellow Hummer barreled over the hill. I screamed and he turned to look too late. The driver didn't notice him in the dark because Ryan didn't believe in those reflective wristbands and… And superman met his kryptonite.

Somehow, Mom was more shocked than me. She secluded herself further and cried harder, even though I was the one who saw it happen. At the funeral she cried onto more shoulders and blew her nose into more handkerchiefs. Eventually, I quit crying. I just sat back and let Mom do all of it.

We usually move every three or four years, but we ended up staying there for five, until Mom was ready to go again. And of course she chose to go to her favorite place in the world.

I blink and focus my eyes on the black computer screen. I swish my finger across the mouse pad and it lights back up. The program hesitates when I click, the lurches back into function. I glance over the symbols and activities, but don't feel quite so motivated to review anymore. I tap my fingers on the space beneath the keyboard.

The captain's voice crackles onto the intercom, interrupting my thoughts. "Passengers, we are about to hit some turbulence. If you would please return your belongings to their overhead compartments, turn your trays and seats into their upright positions, and buckle your seatbelts, we'll get through this without a hitch." And then it repeats. I shut my laptop and put it up into the compartment, then flip my tray up and buckle my seatbelt just as the plane starts to bump. A child cries out, frightened, but is shushed quickly. I used to be afraid, too, when this would happen. I thought we'd crash and die, and for a few years I swore I'd never fly again. But here I am, as calm and safe as ever. I sit quietly and wait for the bucking to stop. It usually doesn't last long.

A few minutes later, when the plane continues to jerk us all about even more violently, the captain switches back onto the intercom. "Alright, passengers. It appears that we will be making an emergency landing. If you'll all remain calm, the air masks will deploy as we descend. Please follow the instructions given to you by the flight attendants at the beginning of the flight." It quickly repeats in Japanese, then the speakers click off.

Oh, crap. I breathe softly, but I quickly lose control of my lungs. My ears crackle quickly and my head feels like it's swelling. I chance a look out the window. A mountain looms closer and closer. We're going to hit it. The oxygen mask falls down and hits my face. I hurriedly put it over my mouth. No. No, we can't hit it. There must be something else near it that they're aiming for.

The intercom clicks back on, but the only thing that comes through is the captain shouting orders and readings back and forth with his co-pilot. I look back out the window and the mountain is enormous and just a few seconds later I hear the metal smashing and screeching as it tears apart and everybody starts screaming at the same time... And one huge piece of metal comes hurtling toward me and I scream at it as if that'll make it go away but it doesn't and it keeps coming and I keep screaming until it hits me and I choke on the incredible pain and I gurgle like a baby and I can't stand the pain and then black overwhelms it all anyway.

I stare at the back and shoulders of the tall man in front of me and blink. What…? I look down at myself. All of the clothes I'd had on, tee shirt and jeans… My hand flies to my head, prodding, checking. Whole. No blood. No bones. At least, none where they oughtn't be. Someone nudges me from behind and I step forward into the space the tall guy left. I peek around his mass. A long line of people stretches on. Some of them look like they were on the plane. I follow the line forward obediently.

After a little bit, I arrive at a figure in a hooded cloak. It hands me a long slip of paper with a number on it. 99,823,496,157. Wow. I continue along the line. I don't see anybody from my family, but the line fades into mist after about fifteen people, so they could be farther forward or back.

After a few more minutes, four tall, ornate doors dissolve out of the mist. Each has a plaque above it with a compass direction, North, South, East, or West, carved on it in every written language. Eventually, I reach the front of the line and another cloaked figure takes the slip of paper from my hand, glances at it, and points me toward the furthest door, North. I pause and it points sharply, leaning a bit toward me. I take a few steps forward, then stop when it turns to the next person in line.

Only a few people are in front of me, and they're headed straight toward their respective doors. Don't they wonder what's going on? The person behind me bumps my shoulder as he passes. I stumble forward and take one last look back at the line before tripping through my door.

(Author's Note: Let me know what you think in a review! I love your feedback!)