Breana Tomlinson-Styles-Horan-Malik-Payne

Striped Skunk

We, as in the boys, Baako, Joy, Marie-Elise, Bret and I, were on a flight back to England.

In the private jet were single seats next to a window, so everyone had their own seat away from other people.

And that's what we wanted.

It's not that we were upset with each other, but, well, we didn't know what to think.

Here's the lowdown on what happened after the boys found us:

Marie-Elise was just fine after she woke up, but she just kept getting sick, and she was weak.

Bret had slashed a tree branch almost all the way through his hand, but didn't tell me - I was surprised I didn't notice. But along with stitches and getting many bandages over his forehead and arms, he had a hard time staying awake.

I had completely snapped my wrist, but my brain was never told there was any pain, so it didn't bother me, but I had it casted as best as it could get until we got home. My arms were engraved with deep cuts from branches and rocks, which hurt like heck.

The boys had a hard time letting go of me, at all. They were nervous something would happen to me. So I never left their sight - for the last fifteen hours we stayed in Africa.

Baako and Joy were fine. Baako was my little butler, he did everything I needed him to. His reason: his big sister, Breana, needed help, and that's what he was there for.

I gripped my arm with my right hand and ran it down to my wrist, cringing at the pain.

Marie-Elise had her head against the window, watching the small scenery pass by.

We had already been in flight  for eight hours, most of us had already slept, no one said a word - even Joy was quiet.

Bret tapped a rhythmic beat on his knee, though it didn't make a sound.

Across the aisle, Harry stared ahead with a glazed over expression.

I sighed, standing up and getting Joy from her seat.

I sat back down and set her on my lap.

Holding my finger up to my lips, she smiled.

Looking around, I saw no one staring at me and proceeded.

(This is to the tune of I'm a nut, if you understand. If you don't, then go to camp)

"I'm a little striped skunk
sleeping under someones bunk
no one wants to play with me, I'm as smelly as can be." I whispered softly.

Bret quirked an eyebrow, but returned to his knee.

I smirked, "Second verse
same as the first
but a little bit louder and a little bit worse."

I brought my voice to a higher whisper, "I'm a little striped skunk
sleeping under someones bunk
no one wants to play with me, I'm as smelly as can be."

Marie-Elise tried to conceal her laugh.

It was a song we learned in year three.

"Third verse," as I whispered, Louis mouthed the words, "Same as the first, but a little bit louder and a little bit worse."

His lips curled into a smirk.

"I'm a little striped skunk
sleeping under someones bunk
no one wants to play with me, I'm as smelly as can be." I sang in a quiet voice.

Marie-Elise couldn't help it, "Fourth verse, same as the first, but a little bit louder and a little bit worse."

In a normal voice, we sang verse three, "I'm a little striped skunk
sleeping under someones bunk
no one wants to play with me, I'm as smelly as can be."