The creaminess of the frittata melts in my tongue, filling my stomach with pleasure. It drips a bit as I hold it, from the egg. I gaze outside the window at the imagery of trees and houses through the dusty car window. Taking another bite out of the frittata, I notice that the egg stains my jean shorts. I groan a bit in disgust.

"Hey mom, can I have a napkin, please?"

I ask her from the back passenger seat. She hands me a paper towel from her purse. I wipe the egg off my shorts, the snack still in my other hand. Finishing the last of it, I play 'Phoenix' by Burnout Syndromes on my phone, plugging my Airpods in my ears. Mom turns her head and asks:

"Why are you grumpy?"

"That's just my face." I reply.

"You should be happy. You could make some friends."

She replies. I inhale sharply.

"I've already got friends, remember? And I'll be fine even if I was alone."

"It's always better to have more friends. That way you'll get to learn more about the different types of people, and can make more happy memories. Why, you might even find a best friend. So stop complaining, Justice."

Mom says sweetly as always. It's rare to see her get mad. Unlike me sometimes. I inhale slowly. 

"Okay."

I reply. I glance outside the window, ignoring the yolk stain on my shorts. Though I can't help but think why exactly I'm going to Brenowa. Besides from the reason why I should make some friends. Besides from the reason why I should make some friends. Outside the car window, the trees are beautiful, coming in different heights and shades of green. The sky was also a gorgeous blue, some clouds dancing around in it. When I stare outside the fair weather and a fun song blasting in my ears, it feels so nice.

Mom and Dad begin chatting with each other, some smiles and laughs were released. I fan my sweater against my neck, hoping it will cool myself from the car heat. The other solution that came to mind was to tie my hair, but my elastics were in my duffel pocket. I attempt to open my window by pressing the button in front of me, but the glass refuses to lower.

"Hey dad, can I open my window?"

"Just a little, ok?"

"Sure. Thank you."

I press the button again, lowering the window to poke my head out slightly to let some breeze inside. I sighed with joy as the air tickled my skin and blew my hair. I was relieved to see mom still focusing on her phone and not instructing me to shut the window. I plug in the airpods slightly firmer in my ears to prevent them flying away in the car ride as I poke my head out slightly farther, then a little farther, with the help of the window lowering more. My head was basically outside of the window, and the wind felt stronger against me, like a leaf blower spitting at me. But I smiled. With the song still waving in my airpods, it only makes the mood more upbeat; almost as if I was the protagonist in a story going on a fun adventure, but I'm on my own. The thought of it makes me feel free and my smile turns into a wider one.

"Justice. Justice! lower the window! You're going to ruin your hair again."

Mom scolds, twisting her neck to face me, frustrated. It took me a while to fully understand her. The dissapointed glance she gave was the sign I needed to stop. It was the same look ever since I was young and did not follow instructions. I shuffle back, releasing my head from outside the window. My hair was mildly tangled, and my side bangs created small wisps laying on my forehead and nose.

"What were you thinking? You could have gotten your head damaged."

"But we're on the corner of the road. No cars can fit. I just wanted some air."

"If you wanted air, then either open the window slightly, or tie up your hair. We've been over this."

"I'm sorry, but I was just hot."

I reply with annoyance and pity. I detested seeing her angry, for various reasons. Leactures, bickering at times, so on. The window beside me is barely open, only allowing strands of air to enter. I realized we have not driven far from home now, glancing at the road, recognizing the landscape with some faraway buildings, still visible. With a yawn, I rest my head against the seatbelt, searching for another song on my phone. I play some J-pop, placing my phone on my knelt thigh. As the tires spin faster and the conversation between my parents overlap, my eyes start to grow heavy.