Aria's POV
"The boarding gates are now open for the 0193 to Paris." A cool female voice booms over the airport. There's a flurry of motion as people drain away from the main crowd towards the boarding gate. This was the last time we could choose to turn back. We could still get back in time for sixth period; return home like nothing happened. But after this they were across the Atlantic and doing something so reckless and possibly stupid that I regret ever thinking of it. I grip my bag over my pregnant stomach and glance at my friends. Emily has that steeling look of determination I see before every one of her swim races, and Hanna is already standing up, ready to board the plane. Spencer is checking and double checking the tickets. No one else seems to have the seed of doubt that is making my heart race and my stomach churn. So I don't say anything and follow the others through the gate, flashing my passport at a guard, and walking up the ramp onto the plane.
It's a long journey, and I'm by the window, Emily on my left. I get out my phone, but an air hostess swoops over and I have to put it away.
"Did you bring any food?" I ask, leaning over Emily to look into Hanna's bag. She pulls out two packets of crisps, a crème egg, a banana and three tins of baked beans.
"That's all you bought?" Spencer said, disdainfully. "This isn't Girl Scout's Hanna."
"What?" Hanna said, defensively unwrapping the crème egg and nibbling it. "I was stressed. I don't work well under pressure."
This much was true; they had bought the tickets at the last minute, hoping this would be enough to stop A from following them. Unfortunately they hadn't had the foresight to pack, so they had to throw everything into their school bags in the dash to get to the airport. I grab the banana and munch on it hungrily.
"I seriously need some custard right now."
"Is that a craving thing?" Hanna asked.
"Probably. I just need some custard." I rise out of my seat. "I need some custard. So bad."
"Sit down Aria." Spencer hissed. "You look too young to be pregnant. People are going to start asking questions."
This is an insult; I'm actually only three months younger than Spencer, but I'm much smaller and I didn't have time to put make up on this morning. And my pregnant bulge is hardly noticeable; I've got much better at picking out clothes that flow over my belly. Today it's a pink smock with black leggings and pumps. I've had to wave goodbye to anything skin tight and high heels.
I sigh and huff back into my seat, crushing my bulbous stomach, making me cry out in pain. Tears well in my eyes, and suddenly I feel furious, even with my friends. I look out of the window. I know it's my hormones, but I can't control it so it's better to stay out of their way. I can hear them chatting about a fashion magazine. How can they be so relaxed?
I watch as Rosewood disappears beneath us and the landscape gets greener and less urban. Then, suddenly, everything turns blue. I can't believe we've escaped. We're free.