Red

4

"Hey," Van says, shaking my shoulder. I think he thought I was asleep since my eyes were shut, but I don't think I'd be sleeping much tonight. I don't think anyone would be, really. I open my eyes and turn to him. "Is this yours?" He asks, holding Annabelle's flannel shirt that she took off before the plane started.

"That... was Annabelle's," I say quietly.

"Okay, I'm going to use it for your leg, then," he whispers. I'm pretty sure everyone else was trying to sleep so Van was keeping his voice down.

"Nuh uh," I shake my head and grab the flannel from his hand.

"Well, what do you want me to use?" He asks, pursing his lips, trying to not express his annoyance with me. He sits down in the middle seat, right next to me.

"Anything but this," I say, holding up the flannel and then bringing it back close to myself and hugging it.

"I think we might be out of options then," he sighs.

"I guess so," I pout and turn away. A silence replaces our conversation for a while, but I didn't mind. It was peaceful.

"What's your name, anyway?" Van asks me.

It crosses my mind that I never actually told him my name. It's weird thinking he has probably just been referring to me as 'that girl' for the whole day.

"Tris," I mumble, looking out the oval window and seeing only black.

"Tris?" Van asks. I can hear the smile in his voice. "How come Annabelle got the normal name?"

I don't say anything. He had no right to be rude to me

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he apologizes, though it probably wasn't sincere. "How old are you, Tris?"

"Seventeen," I say, again in a mumbled whisper. "Why? How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-three. And I was just curious," Van says.

//—————

VAN'S POV

I can't believe she was only seventeen. I could have sworn she was at least twenty. Had I known she was this young, I probably would have had a little more sympathy for her.

"Okay, Tris," I sigh, knowing I can't leave her wound open like it was. "I need to wrap your leg now."

"I don't have anything for you to use. My leg doesn't hurt. It'll be fine," she tells me, persistent about not using her sister's flannel.

"Tris," I pause. "Give me the flannel. I'm not risking going outside to get our luggage from under the plane. It's too dark and we need to stay safe." I wish she'd just give me the flannel. It's not like it would be destroyed; there'd just be a little blood on the side.

Tris doesn't say anything. She was stubborn, and she knew it. I'm trying my best to stay as calm as possible with her, especially now that I know she is so young. She's probably scared to death being alone here without her sister or parents.

"Tris, look at me," I tap her shoulder a few times, growing impatient. She continues to look out the window.

I let out a loud sigh and hope I'm not disturbing anyone who was trying to sleep. "Listen, I know you're tired. And I know you're scared. But you've gotta do as I say, Tris. Just look at me," I say.

She turns to me after a few seconds and looks at me, but not in the eyes. "I'm not scared," she says, trying to be brave. It was cute, the way she tried to act so strong. I hold back the smile that threatened my lips as best as I could.

"I'm going to give you until the count of ten to give me that flannel, Tris," I threaten her, though I had nothing to actually threaten her with. I was hoping she wouldn't realize.

"Or else what?" She asks, her voice was shaky and I hate that I had to make her nervous to get what I wanted. But I can leave her with an open wound, I just won't.

"Tris," I groan. "Please do not make me start actually counting. You're too old for this. Give me the flannel."

She crosses her arms and brings he legs up to her chest, leaving me with a clear view of her cut leg. "One..." I start.

"Two..." she does nothing.

"Three..." Still nothing.

I continue counting.

"Ten," I say with a sigh. She looks over at me timidly as if she was expecting me to burst out yelling. 

"Give me the shirt," I demand, reaching for her sister's flannel and holding onto it. C

"Let go," she says, pulling the flannel back to herself.

"Tris, you get up right now and go back there, wake somebody who's asleep, and ask for their shirt," I say sourly. "I don't have time for your games right now."

"No," she says, turning back to her window. This was just great.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to do that. So what are we going to do? Because I can't leave you here with your leg looking like that," I tell her.

She doesn't speak for a moment and I start to think it was a lost cause. I was going to have to really take the flannel from her.

"You can use my shirt," She mumbles, lifting her white T-shirt over her shoulders leaving her in a black bralette. She tossed me her shirt and used the flannel to cover up her exposed torso. She must feel insecure in her body because her cheeks flushed red and she refused to look at me. She really had no reason to be insecure, though.

I take the shirt and slip it inside out as there was sand on the front. She must've been laying down.

"Wish we could have done that sooner," I say. "Could have saved me and you a lot of time."

She, as expected, doesn't say anything.

"You need to turn toward me so I can get your leg on my lap," I explain to her. She shifts in her seat and lifts her leg up, which I take and rest it on my lap.

I can feel her eyes on my hands as I pull her shirt under her leg. Before I wrap it, I take a better look at the cut.

"I-is it going t-to be okay?" She asks me quietly. I look up at her, and once we make eye contact, she immediately looks down.

"It'll be fine. But it's going to hurt for a few days and it needs a while to heal," I tell her truthfully. "The best thing you can do for now is just keep it wrapped up tight."

"Kay," she says in the same quiet voice.

I pull the shirt around her leg tightly, making her wince. "It hurts. It's too tight," she says. It sounded like she was about to cry.

"It's hot not too tight," I tell her, shaking my head. "You'll be fine." I look up at her and see watery eyes.

"You'll be fine," I repeat, putting her leg down and standing up. I rub her shoulder. "Just go to sleep, Tris. We'll see how it looks in the morning."