Basorexia - J.MAGUIRE

[2.32] dizzy

Clare frowned, still pulling at the shirt under her clothes, as she asked, "What's she doing now?"

"Reading her book," James somewhat quietly replied, though the loudness of his voice did send a little jolt of panic through Chip's mind - as she really did not want to be found out by Sister Michael as that could easily get back to her Mammy. Lord knows what would happen then. "Now she's looking at the woman beside her... Now she's getting up... Now she's coming this way... Now she's standing-"

"J," Ciara whispered softly, stopping his monologue as they both stared down by a rather bewildered Sister Michael.

"I want to sit here."

"What? Why?" Chelle burst out, her actions only adding to the suspicion Sister Michael held in her eyes.

"Well, you're just such wonderful company, girls," she sarcastically responded, glancing at the seat where Michelle's suitcase full of vodka was sitting. "The woman next to me is eating an egg and onion sandwich and the smell of it is enough to turn an Orange march," Sister Michael continued as she went to go and lift the case, arms straining from the weight of it. Ciara paled, front of her skin turning green at the thought of that sandwich. The smell, if wafted up the bus, would certainly make her even more nauseous than she already was. "Christ but this is heavy. What do you have in here, girls?"

"It's not ours," Clare exclaimed, stammering slightly. The panicked look on Chip's face right then and there was soon hidden behind her jumper sleeve, not wanting to give anything away. She knew how this would plan out, an unattended bag in the middle of everything that was going on in Ireland at the moment? It wasn't going to be good and she just did not know how everything would plan out. But it wasn't like she could contradict Clare, given that they were underage and possessed a lot of alcohol - and Ciara had a little something stronger hidden in a dug out in her boot.

"Not yours?"

"We have never seen it before in our lives, have we, girls?" Clare shot back quickly, desperately trying to paint the picture of innocence where, quite frankly, her reaction only made everything seem more suspicious. Nos and nevers from the group followed, all of them adding to the innocent charade that would most certainly have many negative repercussions. Chip just didn't know the severity of them.

"Excuse me, everyone. Can I have your attention, please?" Sister Michael turned and called out to the dozens of people in the front of the bus, the attention only adding more velocity to the dread waves crashing in her already nauseous stomach.

"Christ but this is not going to be good," Chip muttered under her breath, nervously spinning one of her rings around her finger.

"Does anyone own this red suitcase? Let me be clear. No one can claim this bag, is that correct?" Sister Michael asked the public. James had to cover Orla's mouth and Ciara put down her hand, both of them reaching over the chairs to do so, in order to keep their secret. The public all nodded and agreed to the fact that they did not own that bag. Sister Michael turned, looked at the bag, then looked back up to the front of the bus with concern furrowing her brow. "I think we have a Code Red on our hands. Driver, pull over!"

The police were soon called and everyone pulled off the bus, so the suitcase could be easily extracted without risk of it exploding - as it was believed that a bomb lay inside it. Everyone stood at the side of the road, watching as the armed police worked to destroy the 'weapon' that the suitcase was seen to be. Everyone but Ciara. She sat on the stairs of the bus, head between her knees, as she desperately tried to fight the dizziness and nausea that fought within her body. For a moment, Sister Michael looked at the girl in concern but then her attention was stolen away by the case, like everyone else around who had not even noticed her disappearance.

Orla grinned, exclaiming, "Their wee beekeeper costumes are so cracker!"

James frowned, watching the goings on with wide eyes, "Why's this place so mental?"

"That's enough James. You have serious fucking anger management issues!" Chelle exclaimed, turning to her cousin as she usually did. In doing so, she noticed the distinct lack of her redheaded best friend and looked around. She soon spotted her on the bus steps and yelled, "Chip, you grand?"

Ciara, unable to say a word, put up her shaking thumb in response. Her head still remained on her knees, arms folded underneath them. The group, who had been concerningly looking to their friend, turned for the explosion of the suitcase as everyone else did. Chip, for a split second, looked up but was forced to place her head back down as her vision was getting blurry anyway.

"Vodka, did he say? Interesting," Sister Michael frowned, turning to look to the group who stood beside her.

Chelle pushed through the crowd, the rest of them bolting through the gap that they formed. Chelle ran to the bus, grabbed Chip's hand and yanked her up. Ciara did not have time to process, given that she was so dizzy she really had no idea what was going on. All she knew was that she was supposed to run, she gathered it was probably to get away from Sister Michael after they had discovered what was truly in the case. With every wobbly step, Chip felt her body being pushed to the absolute limit. She was sure, if it continued for much longer, she would pass out.

Luckily, after a few minutes, they all stopped their run and slowed to a walk. Orla, as usual, linked arms with Chip and was at that moment so incredibly glad for that. She was pretty much holding her up at that point, the spinning in her head was just getting to be too much. "We need a better plan," Erin announced after a few minutes of silent walking, everyone just trying to catch their breaths and anxiously looking behind them. "We cannot walk to Belfast."

Michelle stuffed her hands into her pockets as she responded, "Have you ever seen Northern Ireland on a map? It's fucking tiny."

Ciara was, at that point, completely out of it. She was barely conscious and honestly did not know how she was still walking - or how she was even still conscious at that point. She knew that she needed sugar, or some other form of food, desperately but there was absolutely no way of getting it. She didn't see the group walking past a food stall, nor did she see or hear those people yelling at them. But she did feel Orla begin to drag her along as they started to run again.

Chip physically could not run anymore so she unlinked her arm from Orla's and came to a complete stop. She swayed softly on the spot, trying desperately to control and stop the dizziness and pain shooting all through her body. A man approached her, she could not see him. Her vision became spotty, almost fading in and out. She saw his mouth move but couldn't hear a word. "What?" she whispered, her own voice ringing in her ears.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her away from the man and into the very middle of the group. "Chip you-"

"I'm okay," she cleared her throat, voice still coming at a whisper. She did not quite know who she was talking to, or how she had actually heard them. It wasn't as if she could tell who it was through their voice as to her, it was a ringing and distant voice that sounded as if it was coming through some thick substance - like Jelly or a thick custard.

Next thing she knew, Chip was slumped in the back of some random ladies van. She had been given a cigarette, which she quickly smoked. The brief nicotine rush was enough to keep her going just for the moment.