Chapter Seventeen

       “Class, please settle down! We know the situation is not ideal, but you’ll have to cope!” a teacher yelled over the mix of complaining and fearful teens.

       “I don’t want to go!” Kara cried, hugging me tightly. I patted her back in an attempt to calm her, though knew it wouldn’t help. On the outside, sure, I looked composed and totally fine, but, on the inside, I was screaming just as loud as everyone else.

       What got all these snobby, private school students so riled up one might ask? The destination of our upcoming flight.

       When we first came back to the airport this morning, to leave London, everyone was sad. No one wanted to leave. A few kids called their parents and got permission to actually stay in London while the rest of us were forced to experience a whole new culture. Currently, we were sitting in the airport, waiting for our plane to board, as our final destination was finally catching up to everyone’s brain waves.

       “Elle, are you okay?” Nick asked, touching his warm hand to mine.

       “Um… yeah,” I gulped. Kara was still clung to me, so I didn’t have access to hug Nick.

       “I’m not!” Kara wailed.

       “It’s okay, babe,” Ben said, rubbing her back.

       “No, it isn’t!” she protested, still sobbing.

       “Mind if I take her off your hands?” Ben asked.

       “Go right ahead!” I said, freeing Kara from my grip, and handing her over to Ben.

       “So, Elle, how long before you start crying like that?” Nick asked, watching the couple as they interacted. Ben began to tenderly wipe away Kara’s smudged mascara as she continued to sob.

       “I don’t cry,” I stated simply.

       “Oh, Elle, everybody cries!”

       “I don’t.”

       “Uh huh. How about screaming?” he pressed.

       “Nope.”

       “So, when a bug bites, or comes near you you’re not going to shriek?” he scrunched his eyebrows.

       “Well, maybe... just a little.”

       I hated bugs. They all needed to die. Any time a bug got in a vicinity of a foot near me, I lost it. I hated bugs. Period.

       “It’s okay, Elle, you’ll survive,” he assured me, pulling me in close to him.

       “I know, I will, because if a lion comes near me, I know you’ll protect me.”

       “Aw, Elle! I’m so glad you think that highly of me, though, you’re terribly wrong,” he informed me.

       “I am?”

       “If a lion comes near me, I will run like hell. Sorry, babe, I’m not going to protecting you, I’ll be dragging you along with me,” he laughed, squeezing my shoulder.

       “You’re so sweet!” I mocked.

       “I know, I am,” he said, drawing a spiral on the back of my hand with a finger.

       “So, Nick, how do you feel about sleeping in a tent?” I questioned.

       “Well, as long as I’m with you, I’m fine.”

       “What are you fine with?” Gina asked, Rosie following closely behind.

       “Nothing,” Nick mumbled.

       “Okay. Oh! I wanted to ask you something!” Rosie said, smiling deviously.

       “What did you want to ask me?” Nick inquired sharply.

       “I wanted to ask why you’re still going out with that loser! The joke’s not funny anymore. You can stop,” she said, adding an angelic smile that I wanted to wipe off her smug face with a chainsaw.

       “How many damn times do we have to tell you, we’re going out! Build a bridge, and get the fuck over it!” I said, not even knowing why I cared so much to fight back.

       “Nick, who would want to go out with her? Look at me: I’m skinny, tan, blonde, hot, wearing True Religion Brand Jeans, and I’m perfect. Now, look at her: she’s fat, pale, a brunette, ugly, and is wearing sweats- who wears those out in public?” Rosie said, glaring at me.

       “Rosie,” Nick started.

       “Yeah, babe?” she smiled.

       “Shut up. I’m looking at her, and she’s not fat, her skin is its natural color, her hair is dark and beautiful, and she looks totally hot in sweats. Now, I’m looking at you; you look anorexic, your skin is orange, have yellow hair, are wearing rapist proof jeans, and you’re fake,” Nick said, doing something that he didn’t need to- standing up for me. I loved him. Did that thought seriously just cross my mind?

       “Nick, I know you just don’t want to hurt her feelings,” Rosie said sympathetically.

       “Rosie, how many times do we need to put you in your place?” I asked.

       “I know where my place is, and it’s at the top of the social ladder, unlike you. You, Elle Paterson, are on the very bottom rung- hence the reason you are a loser,” she said, pointing at me.

       “See, there’s no such thing as a social ladder, and popularity is merely fear. Now please, get the hell away from us!” I said.

       “Nick Ross, I will get you one day. I promise, maybe not today, but in the future you will me mine,” she said, marching her prissy little bitch of a self over to some football players. Gina, for some reason, remained behind.

       “What?” I demanded, scowling at her.

       “I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have said that to you,” Gina muttered quietly.

       “Why do you care?” I snapped.

       “Because you’re, like, best friends with Phillip, and he’s my future boyfriend,” she justified.

       “So, you think being nice to us once, will score you points with Phillip?” 

       “Yeah, pretty much,” she looked down. “It was really mean of her to totally explode on you. She’s just not used to not getting what she wants; something I can totally relate to.”

       “I’m sure you can,” I mumbled under my breath.

       “So again, I’m sorry.”

       “Whatever.”

       “I’ll see you two around!” she said, turning to go flirt alongside Rosie.

       “Idiots,” Nick said.

       “It’s whatever.”

       “No; no it’s not. She has no right to treat you like that! When can we kill her?”

       “When we’re helping all those people in the middle of nowhere, revenge will take its toll,” I sighed.

       “As long as I can help, I’m all for it!” he laughed sweetly.

       “We will now be boarding for flight number four hundred and sixty-one,” the speakers said, anouncing our flight.

       All one hundred and fifty of us stood up, waiting for our school to be called. We had lost about fifty kids, who complained that they didn’t want to get typhus or malaria to their parents, so, being wimps, got  to stay behind in London. Besides us, there were only about twenty or so other people on the flight. They called us, and we proceeded to board the plane.

       The plane was tiny. There were two seats next to each other, an aisle, and then another two seats. I took a deep breath, and tried to suppress all my nerves about crashing and dying. Behind me I heard some girls from my grade crying, like Kara, and protesting about the size of the small aircraft.  I was better than them; I couldn’t give in.

       “Are you okay?” Nick asked, as we slowly walked down the aisle.

       “Yeah,” I gulped.

       “I’d like to point out that what we’re doing now, hopefully, the next time we do it, you’ll be in a white dress,” he said. I could’ve fainted. It was so sweet- so unlike him.

       “Nick! You do have a sweet side to you!” I squeeled.

       “Don’t get used to it,” he warned.

       “Elle, when we crash, will we at least have reception to call and tell people that we’ve crashed?” Kara asked from somewhere behind me.

       “We’re not going to crash,” I called back doubtfully. Nick and I slipped into a row of seats, and got set up. After what felt like forever, the plane was ready to take off.

       It wasn’t a full flight. The row directly across from me was empty, and the rest of the plane was probably only three-fourths of the way full. Then, as the flight attendants were giving the safety and emergency precautions, which I was paying extra special attention to, a boy in a black sweatshirt with the hood over his head and a backpack came aboard.

       He looked about in college, and was probably part of one of those “Safe the wildlife” programs. His scuffed up jeans were not from years of use, even from where I was, I could tell. They were clearly made to look distressed, and, considering more than half the people on this plane thought in designer brands, he wasn’t fooling anyone. His sweatshirt clung to his biceps, and wasn’t zipped up down the middle. He was wearing a white V-neck that defined his ab muscles, and looked good on him.

       As he made his way through the plane, he kept coming nearer to me. I was staring at him, when, all of the sudden, our eyes locked. The instant I looked into those crystal blue eyes, I regretted it. His eyes looked familiar- if eyes can for that sense even be familiar. He winked at me, and then smiled. I didn’t smile back, and kept my poker face on. As he approached our row, he tossed his backpack to the floor, and took the seat across from me.

       “Ms. Paterson,” he said, taking off his dark hood, and unearthing his whole face. No. Way.