Minutes after we shared our brief conversation, I simply glanced at my window to see solemn darkness corrupted the sky.

Slithering along the cool atmosphere, were dark gray clouds shifting past the airplane. Glittery specks of white decorated the ominous canvas, as stars produced enough light for me to see.

Inside the plane, flight attendants dimmed down lights to allow the passengers to sleep. And while several slept through the turbulence, a few grew restless sitting in their chairs.

As people try to sit in a comfortable position, their tired legs swing back and forth like a slow pendulum. In the meantime, the passengers' posture grew stiff as a cardboard box.

Weary thin lines squiggled around their eyes, lips cracked from the cool air, and I think that if they remain in their seats for one second, the passengers' feet would morph into a thick jelly.

Looking around, I can see everyone closing their eyes, including Austin, who sat soundly in his seat.

Sleeping in an upward position, Austin's head slowly tilts away from me.

His hands were unfolded, his nose curled, and while his white-blond hair tickled his forehead, Austin's small, spiral sketchbook cradled on his lap.

Watching him fall into a heavy slumber, I chuckled in silence.

"Some owl you turned out to be," I smirked.

Despite his sleep state, Austin has the energy to flip his middle finger in my direction.

"Shut up." he scowled. "I just need to close my eyes for a bit."

"Moron," I muttered. "You need more than just a nap. You need some rest."

"No, I don't." he sighed. "I will be fine."

I give him a look. "Thanks for worry about me, but the last time I checked, I am not some doe-eyed Lois Lane."

Turning to my gaze, Austin opened his brown eyes then sighed.

"I know, " he said. "I just want to be here for you."

I smile a little. "As much as I feel safe with you, I'd really appreciate if you keep your unbridled emotions to yourself."

"Why?" implied Austin.

"Because someone will use them against you," I answer simply.

But Austin shakes his head. "Jack, I have never doubted your intelligence, but I don't think the world is a hot pile of shit. Everyone has their reasons for doing bad things."

I eye carefully. "Oh really? Like what?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe stealing money from the rich then giving it to the poor."

I did a hearty chuckle. "You think everyone is Robin Hood?"

"Well, I know The Punisher uses military tactics to kill an army of thugs."

I chuckled some more.

"What?" asked Austin, frowning at my amusement.

"Nothing, " I grinned. "I just find it cute when you talk nerdy to me."

Austin blushed then ducked his head.

"Shut up, " he mumbled.

"I am not making fun of you," I insisted. "I just find your geekiness very cute."

Austin rolled his tired eyes at me. "Cute or a pain in the ass?"

"Both."

After a long hour of silence, I said to him:

"Look, I know I sound like a pain in the ass, but I am trying to teach you to know how the world works."

When I said this, Austin's thin lips changed into a sad frown.

"Really?" he asks. "Because it seems like you hate people."

"I don't hate people, " I retorted, "I hate those who lie between their teeth."

"Yeah, but not everyone is a dick," Austin insisted.

"Are you kidding?" I grunt. "When I was a kid, Joseph always told me that if you want anything in life, you must be willing to take it."

"You mean lying and stealing?" guessed Austin.

I nodded.

Observing the room full of sleepy passengers, Austin said to me in a low whisper: "But Jack, the world doesn't work that way."

I fixated my eyes at him, clearly annoyed at his naiveness.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask. "Do you know how crazy you sound right now?"

Austin did a tired moan.

"I know what I am saying is crazy, " he started to say, "but I don't think the world isn't so bad."

"Austin, the world is bad, " I argue. "for instance, you should have seen the way Second Avenue treated you."

Austin flashes me a wretched stare.

"They have been kicking my ass since preschool," he snorted.

Flicking a loose deadlock to my side, I recalled moments when Austin would come to his moms with a black eye or empty pockets.

Both Kristy and Olivia would burst through the school office doors, threatening to sue the principal and the school district unless he prevents Austin from being bullied.

Even though the principal reassured his moms, there was nothing he could do to stop those boys from hassling Austin.

Taking a deep breath, I cross my arms and said to him: "I know those guys were treating you like shit—that's why you need to know how to defend yourself."

"Well, I can always fight back," beamed Austin.

I raise my left brow. "With words or with fists?"

"I use words, Jack." Austin cringed. "Jesus, you taught me that words are better than violence."

"Aw, " I crooned. "You even listen to me too."

Austin groaned. "Jack, will you stop being sarcastic? That's my thing."

Just then, his posture changed: Austin's white blond wig now brushed past his thick eyebrows, making it hard for me to see his eyes.

Although he knew where I was getting at, Austin still believes that everyone has goodness in him.

That the world has its ups and downs.

But unfortunately for Austin, I believe the world is a hellhole: we are all fucked people with morals no one understands.

Rubbing his sore eyelids from the back of his hand, Austin let out a loud yawn, waking up a couple passengers in the process.

"Good God," he mumbled. "I think I should get some rest."

I smile a little.

"See?" I ask, nudging my shoulder against his. "Good rest pays off."

Austin takes a deep breath and sigh, leaning his head against his blue leather chair.

"Let's go to sleep." I murmur. "We both need our strengths for tomorrow."

Nodding solemnly, Austin puts his sketchbook away, closed his eyes, and drifted to a peaceful slumber.

Just then a loud rumble erupted the plane, bits of Austin's dark brown hair dusted along his creamy tan eyelids.

Both of his hands smoothed the creases on his jeans, as Austin forces his intense eyes to close.

In the meantime, I noticed Austin's leather-bound sketchbook tipping from his right leg when I quickly caught it in my left palm, unzipped my front bag pocket, dropped the book inside, and pulled the zipper back up.

Watching Austin snooze, I smile to myself.

He'll thank me later, I thought hopefully, adjusting my seat a bit more.

While the plane glided across the menacing sky, I lean my head back against the chair and thought of Elle Jones' ash jar secured in my backpack.

Sounds of the shifting brown jar reminded me of a newborn chick.

Although I hear it touching against the Super 8 camera, I didn't bother to check on the jar because first of all, I was on a plane.

If the plane was going through bad turbulence, Elle Jones's jar will fall out of my hands and onto the floor.

And second, even if I did want to check the jar in private, a few people—like that boy who flirted with me earlier—would notice that I was behaving strangely and confront me.

For now, I have decided to stay in my seat, act normal, and as soon as we find a motel, I will check my bag's contents to see if anything was broken.

Taking a deep breath, I reassured myself that everything is going to be fine.

Joseph doesn't know that I left New York, Warren hasn't reported about his relative's missing ash jar to the media, and we are flying to Australia in the morning.

So far, Austin and I are making good progress, but my only fear is that we might encounter trouble along the way.

Although I wasn't an expert in Australian culture, I am not sure Australians accept American cash.

Especially not from two runaway teenagers.

I'll think of a plan soon, but until I am positive, I will make sure Austin follows my instructions carefully without any whining, complaining, or otherwise.

Taking another deep breath, and gripped my hands against the seat's arms.

As soon as we get to Australia, we will film the movie, spread Elle Jones' ashes, and go home without anyone realizing we were gone.

But then again, Joseph is a dedicated New York policeman—if he finds me, then he will kill me with his own bare hands.