Wake Me Up

Chapter Two: Enjoy Your Trip

"Holland, hurry! Our plane leaves in 45 minutes!" I screamed, pounding on the door to the bathroom where she had been sat, doing her make up for the past two hours. It annoyed me that she wore make up on the plane there- it was going to be a long 12 hour flight to get there- why not dress cozy. Me? I had my cozy Ed Sheeran sweatshirt, my sponge bob pajama bottoms, and a pair of Notre Dame slippers. I didn't care who saw me- that wasn't what the trip was for, for me. This trip was about relaxing before college; this trip was about sitting in the sun, maybe learning a few things along the way- it wasn't about meeting guys and going out to party all night long, because that's not what I had planned on the agenda.

"Cara, we are going to Spain and I refuse to look like the slob I always do!" She screamed back, opening the door wide to reveal what looked like some goddess who's 'wind blown hair' and 'natural make up' made her look flawless. I felt underdressed, though I always did, standing next to someone as pretty as Holland. She grinned, twirling a bit, her flowing skirt jutting out and swishing against the doorway. "Do I look okay?" She asked, knowing the answer.

"Okay would be an understatement, Holly," I responded, taking her by the wrist and dragging her out of the room. "But can we go now? Our plane isn't going to wait for us and I've never signed up for track... So..." I trailed off, picking up my red suitcase and dragging it alongside Holland.

"Oh calm your tits, Cara. They're not going to leave us," she stated, picking up her own suitcase and taking it out to her expensive car. I smirked, shaking my head.

"Just get in the damn car and drive, Holly,"

_______________

"Passengers, please fasten your seat belts. We will be taking off shortly." The pilot's voice boomed throughout the cabin, irking a few of the smaller children and toddlers, causing them to wail out in discomfort and kick the chairs in front of them. The Plane was a large one, being the long distance we were going to fly, being able to sit around 150 patrons. It wasn't a comfortable fit, though. The plane reeked of old spice and anxiety, mainly coming from the male sat next to me. Holland couldn't be bothered to get us two seats next to each other, meaning it was her that had to sit beside the smelly old guy who seemed to sweat more than he breathed, or it was me. It was me.

"Nice," I muttered, turning around so I didn't have to see the male next to me. It was bad enough I was stuck on a plane I didn't want to be on for 12 hours, but 12 hours next to him was going to drive me insane. I'd rather jump off the plane than have to chat with him, so I smiled at the polite looking lady who sat next to me. She seemed quite nervous as she gripped the seat, her knuckles turning white. She teeth were clenched tightly, chattering with anxiety, her jawline sharply outlined. The hairs on her arms stood on end, despite the humidity of the plane. Her wavy brown hair seemed out of place; seemed disheveled as if she had been tossing and turning in her sleep last night in thought. She was nervous, and I knew it.

"Hello," I offered friendship as I shoved my hand out at her. She turned to me, the strained, stressed look on her face softening as her eyes glowed.

"Hello," the woman said, hesitating before loosening her death grip on the arm rests and settling back into her seat, her shoulders relaxing. "What's your name?"

"I'm Cara," I replied, smiling. "And you are?"

"I'm Sofia," she said, her accent cutting through the humid air. It was refreshing. She smiled, her teeth white and straight, a common thing found in LA, where everyone tried a little too hard to be perfect... But perfect isn't an option; it's never been an option. It never will be an option.

"You have pretty eyes," she complimented, her teeth on full display once again. "They're a pretty shade of blue. They look like my daughter's. You'd like her- she's pure at heart, though she just 13 and you've to be just getting out of high school, yes?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows. I nodded. She nodded too.

"My daughter, Isabelle is her name... She's sick. Deathly sick, actually. I wish I could have been with her; wish I could have stayed in Barcelona to take care of her, but I had work to do... They rely on me- I couldn't just leave, and they knew that. I've had to stay in the US, moving all over the place for the last year, leaving my husband and my sister back in Barcelona to take care of our only daughter..." She trailed off, shaking her head and putting it in her hands as she released the tears she seemed to have been holding back this long time. When she got back, she knew she'd have to keep it all in once again, so she might as well let it all out here.

I frowned, rubbing small, reassuring circles into her back as she sobbed. This story would do me no good; it made me want to cry myself, but me crying... It would do no one justice, leaving two women crying on the plane along with about 50 toddlers, it would lead to nothing but trouble. "Who do you work for?" I found myself asking once she'd calmed down a bit, her sobbing reduced to a silent flow of tears. She seemed to lighten at this, a small smiled playing across her thin, quivering lips.

"I work for a band," she replied. I nodded, of course. Of course a band needed her, of all people, to take care of them on a daily basis. Didn't they know? Didn't they understand the trouble it was causing her verbally? Did they even care? I found myself disliking this band already, though I didn't even know who they were yet.

"What band?" I asked, my teeth clenching on my tongue as I sat back, arms crossed, staring at the seat in front of me. Sofia chuckled, patting my shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Cara. You seem like a sweet girl- I'm not going to ruin your trip." She stated, sitting back in her seat and shutting her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"To put it simply- there are going to be many things; many people that you will learn to love in Barcelona, and I hope you enjoy your trip."