September 11, 2001

It was like any other plane ride; I was sitting there with my laptop finishing my essay when the other underage traveler next to me started to cry. She had to be around eight. I closed my laptop and said "Hey I'm Morgan, what's your name?"

"Kala Perez," she said with tears still silently falling.

"That's a beautiful name Kayla," I said this in what everyone called my "soothing" voice.

"Morgan isn't such a bad name either, but isn't that a girl's name," she asked mockingly. Laughing I reply

"Sometimes, but 17 years ago it became mine. So now it's both."

"So your 17" she asked, almost in awe.

"Yes ma'am and I would reckon that your 10," it's always better to guess high. They seem to like you more that way.

"Nope, seven and a half today," she states proudly. I was only half a year off.

"Wow that is impressive," I want to ask what's worm but I don't want to pry. But she is still crying some and so I tentatively ask "why are you crying?" She is so quiet; I think that I hurt her feelings and that I'm not going to hear her answer. After what seems like a lifetime she responds.

"I was crying because I dreamt that no one on this plane would be here tomorrow," she finished in a sob. Feeling worried I asked calmly what she meant, she replied into the really big towers that look the same." Her crystal blue eyes, almost matching my own in shade, bored into my mind as if asking "will this really happen?"

"That is a good reason to cry, but I think it was only a dream," as I was saying this I see her tilt her head toward the sound of the Arabian men arguing, and I wonder if she can understand them. "You see, I fly back and forth and we never even come close to the towers." Again as I say this, a fight breaks out on the plane with a few people, including the Arabian men from earlier. I see one pull a knife and go rushing to the pilot's cabin. I feel sick to my stomach. This little girl, Kayla Perez, only seven and a half, dreamt the most awful thing that one could imagine. I try to hide what I'm feeling but I know she sees through it.

I can feel the sorrow seep from her skin. I pick her up out of her seat and held her while we both cry. Wanting to hope that we were both wrong I buckle the seatbelt around the both of us. As I do this I say "Let's take a nap, and when we wake up we will be in the airport waiting for our families to pick us up," She nods and falls asleep almost instantly. I take out my noise-canceling headphones and put them over her ears and turn them on. While she slept on my chest we crashed into the first tower, and she never woke again.