This was just a little story idea I had a few weeks ago. Multi-chapter, lot of OCs, and I'll be expanding upon the vaguely-described topics that SMeyer threw out in Breaking Dawn as well as addressing some of the major plot-holes. This story is VERY Lauren-centric, and not Cullen-friendly. I really appreciate writing critique, as I'm constantly trying to improve. I am grateful to all of you who choose to give this a chance, and if there's something you don't like, feel free to let me know. I'm open to PMs as well. Thank you very much, and enjoy!
Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own, and do not wish to own, any of Stephenie Meyer's works, concepts, or creations.
"I'm sorry, miss; could you step over to the side here?"
Lauren fought the urge to roll her eyes as she hurried to the spot the security agent had pointed to. Masses of tired-eyed people shuffled through the checkpoint, passing her as they took the next step on their respective vacations. This part of the airport smelled like cheap cologne and sweat and feet. Lauren wrinkled her nose as she checked her watch. Mom's gonna kill me if we miss our flight, she thought. Glancing over to the screen outside of the AIT machine that showed the rough outline of a human body, she noticed the telltale yellow 'alarm' rectangle covering the left knee. She looked down at her own legs and bit back a sigh of frustration. I'm wearing shorts, people...
Her mom and dad were standing at the item return belt, pulling on their shoes and hurrying to move their trays out of the way of the exhausted-looking crowds. Samantha Mallory, a pretty, middle-aged woman with dirty-blonde hair, turned around with her daughter's shoes in hand and looked at her surroundings with an almost comically confused expression. When her eyes stopped on the short-haired teenager standing in bare feet on the frigid tiles, she raised a brow, a bemused grin on her face. Lauren gave a dramatic shrug and returned the grin, wide-eyed in quiet exasperation.
Her face quickly fell back into apathy as a female TSA agent moved to stand in front of her. The husky looking woman slowly roved her eyes up and down the teen's legs, patted the front pockets of Lauren's shorts, shook her head, and waved her hand dismissively. Lauren half-ran over to her parents and hurriedly pulled on her flip-flops before taking her backpack from her dad.
"What was that all about?" he asked jokingly.
"No idea. Some sort of—" she paused as she fumbled for the second strap, straining to see it over her shoulder. "Some sort of counting thing. Tyler said they set off the alarm for every hundred people for no reason."
"It's 'Tyler said' again, huh?" Her mom smiled and turned around, leading them to the terminal. "Tyler sure knows a lot of stuff."
"I guess so," Lauren's face suddenly felt very warm. "He's...nice."
"I thought so when you two dated, or whatever that was you kids did in tenth grade. The Homecoming thing. What college is he going to?"
"Same as most people at school. University of Washington. Or Peninsula . Hasn't decided." She couldn't help but feel a bit sad as the words came out. Tyler, Angela, Mike, Jessica, Eric...hell, Samantha was going all the way to frigging North Carolina for pre-law studies at Duke. A full ride to a cross-country, private university. That'd been the talk of the school for months before they all graduated.
Her mom glanced back over her shoulder. "If you really want to stay with your friends—"
"No," Lauren shook her head quickly, trying to jolt away any traces of the pessimistic attitude. "I want the best college I can get. You guys paid for that interview at CalTech last year, and I'm going to keep that scholarship they said they could give me. I want this. I can't give it up for a few friends," Even though Tyler and Jess're really the only ones I can call friends anymore. "It's not like the colleges are a thousand miles apart."
"Okay...if you say so." The tone was almost apologetic, but Lauren could easily hear the note of pride in her mother's voice. Her dad seemed to agree. College had been the biggest focus for Lauren's family the last two years, and the financial aid grant was the only reason they were able to take an extended trip to Europe that summer.
All those essay contests, all those applications, all that mind-numbing soul searching and penny-begging from admissions offices...she let herself give a self-satisfied smirk. Fucking luckiest girl in the world, right here. Those back-breaking mazes had led to enough scholarship bonds to pay for her first year of college, and the California Institute of Technology had apparently been impressed enough with her that eighty percent of her tuition was completely eradicated, providing she kept her grades way up there. Her parents had apparently been impressed enough with her that a vacation to Europe was immediately planned. 'Because you won't have enough money to go anywhere for the next million years', her dad had teased.
Thanks, guys, she thought as they seated themselves in the plastic terminal chairs. For putting up with my shit. And everything else. They'd managed to stay supportive of Lauren even when the world tried to crash and burn around her. That modeling scam—please, she was going to get her hair cropped short anyway—where Lauren had cried herself to sleep for a week, the Advanced Placement classes that left her awake until the morning hours most days, all through the difficult times they kept the belief that, no matter what, Lauren was going to be someone. She wouldn't get stuck in a small town because jobs were too unstable elsewhere. She'd finish college and enter the world, guns blazing. They told her, a million times, that Lauren would never have to deal with the inconveniences they had. It didn't matter if she was a model or an insurance saleswoman or an engineer, only that she had the opportunity to achieve it.
Lauren ran her fingers through the five-or-so inches of hair on her head as she watched the people around her. An elderly woman entertained a small granddaughter with a monkey handpuppet. A teenage boy, about Lauren's age, sat two seats down; the Screamo in his headphones was audible. A large man in a Blondie T-shirt typed furiously on a laptop. Mom had always told her to appreciate the stories people told, the paths they were on. Everyone had a different one, and it was amazing that they sometimes led to the same place. Absolutely incredible.
Her eyes flashed to her carry-on as her phone suddenly buzzed loudly, the screen lighting up blue and yellow. Lauren grinned when she pulled the LG out of the mesh pocket, pressing the green button to let the thing know that yes, she did want to read the new text.
She was happy to see that the message was from Jess: You just HAD to leave today. Of all days.
Lauren quickly slid the keyboard out from her phone to respond: Finally got back to me. I missing something back in town? Plane's gonna be called in a few.
She didn't bother to close her phone as she waited for an answer. Thankfully, Jessica never failed to respond quickly: Have fun in Paris then. I'M stuck here for the wedding. Mom's making me wear the WORST dress.
A giggle burst from Lauren before she could stop herself. The wedding. Holy shit, how'd she even forget that? Bella Swan and Edward Cullen. The policeman's daughter and new-money's son. Fancy-schmancy invitations had gone out to every house in Forks a month before. Even the Mallory family got one. Lauren's mom had taken one look at the pretentious white bows, the swoopy, stuck-up lettering, the too-expensive paper and asked, 'Do you really even want to go?' before tossing the frilly thing into the trash. From what Lauren had heard from her friends, they were all going because there really wasn't anything better to do. And hey; free food and music, plus a house so big no one'd notice if something broke.
She remembered that house, too. She remembered that it was big and open and white, pulsating disconcertingly in flashing strobe lights. Moving through it was like trying to walk on snow or something, where there were no visible edges or angles. White walls, white carpet, mostly white furniture. Only saving grace was the overlooking view of the woods to the river. The main thing that stuck with Lauren was that there had been latches on the giant windows. The back of the house overlooked a fifty-foot dropoff. The hell'd they need to open those windows for? Base jumping?
Hahaha I totally forgot. Tell me if they're as awkward as they were at the graduation party, she typed back. And I bet you look awesome in your dress. Better than Bella will in hers. I promise.
LOL. Wanna bet? This reply came with a semi-fuzzy picture of Jess in some kind of black, boxy piece of fabric. Lauren's eyebrows shot up in offense. Jessica had curves that were made to be shown off, not filled in like that. The saving grace came in the form of her curly hair, pinned up with a really gorgeous, glittering clip. The fake-diamond costume one Jess had worn to Prom, Lauren knew. Cheap, but it looked amazing on her. Lauren showed the picture to her mom, who shook her head.
"The hair's the best thing there. Don't know what Helen was thinking with that outfit, though," Samantha Mallory said. "Tell Jess I say she looks amazing anyway."
Mom says she loves the hair. Tell me how the food is at the reception? Lauren leaned back against the chair.
Tell your mom I said hi! And idk if I'm gonna eat. Gonna be something too fancy for me, I bet. Alice laughed at me when I asked what some of the stuff at the grad party was, said the reply.
They really ARE assholes, though! But you HAVE to tell me if Bella's showing yet.
Lauren Anne Mallory!
You were the one who thought it first. And I think you're right. Who else gets married right outta high school?
I know. I feel really bad for their parents. Mr. Swan mostly. Remember when the Cullens moved away last year?
That POOR guy. Bella was a fucking zombie. Was she seriously like that at home too? I've never been to her house.
Picked her up from her place once. Didn't look back at her dad when she left. Not really a goodbye either. Then she almost got me killed, remember?
Lauren did. Do you get why I stayed away from her?
Now, yeah. She's not even talking to any of us. Just hangs out with the Cullens 24/7.
She's a toxic person. And those guys creep me out, Jess.
Bella's obsessed with them. Try n talk to her and she starts zoning out cuz her boyfriend's standing right behind you.
He's SCARY. Don't know how you ever liked him.
Eh. It was the hair. I think he needs to do something for his skin, though. And his personality. Dead fish, much? Mike's better. His puppy-dog eyes are the cutest thing!
Okay, lovesick! I'm happy for you two, though.
You and Tyler need to get back together! Go to the movies or something when you get back to America! HOP ON DAT ASS.
Right, Jess. Right.
Whoops gotta go! Sorry! Mom says she's gonna take my phone from me if I don't finish up my makeup soon so we can leave. Have fun in Europe! Take pics! Miss ya, Lauren!
Have fun at the wedding! Don't fall asleep!
The plastic casing clicked as Lauren slid the keyboard shut. Miss you too, Jess, she thought as she put her phone away. They talked way too infrequently now. Ever since graduation, Jess'd been busy preparing for college at some Catholic university in Oregon. No time to meet up with anyone but Mike, really.
The couple was one of the cutest things that had ever existed. Everyone knew they were going to end up together since Sophomore year. Lauren had won five bucks from Conner about the Prom thing in Junior. Jess acted scandalized when she found out that there had been money changing hands over it, but told Lauren that she secretly liked the attention she got. Lauren was all too happy to give that attention to her small group of close friends. They'd been together since elementary school, and they were the nicest and most accepting people she knew.
Sometimes she thought they were a little too nice and accepting, though. Mike and Jess especially. The little group at lunch had grown and grown, Jess and Angela and Mike letting Amanda and Sean and Sai and all their friends sit with them. Lauren liked those people, too, but she sometimes felt a little jealous over having her few close friends absorbed by other cliques as she constantly traveled from one to the other, trying to find a way to hang on to everyone. Social promiscuity aside, she began to miss her best friends. As senior year went on, more and more of her oldest besties had grown distant, absorbed in the growing fabric of their young lives and cutting their seams from hers. Understandable, yeah. Kinda lonely, yeah, but Jess still answered Lauren's texts from time to time and there was no shortage of Emails from Tyler...
Lauren's mom nudged her daughter's arm, jolting her out of her thoughts. "You hungry? I know it's only five in the morning, but you didn't eat a lot yesterday, and..."
"We have time?" Lauren brushed some wayward hair out of her face and fought back a yawn. Her brain hadn't registered the sleep deprivation until her mom pointed it out, and it was suddenly a struggle to sit fully upright.
"Sure, why not?" Her mother stood and pulled Lauren up. "Plane doesn't board for another ten minutes. And your dad's not a big distraction right now."
Her father was currently asleep, head lolling onto the pillow he had made from his carry-on bag. Lauren rolled her eyes, amused, before following her mother. The hushed sounds of random conversation came from various terminals, though most people were sleeping. A plane had pulled up to a boarding tunnel outside, steel nose barely twenty feet from the wide glass windows. Samantha Mallory stopped suddenly to regard the looming behemoth.
"A marvel of human ingenuity," her mother decided, and then looked to Lauren. "You're gonna work on engineering planes after college, right? Maybe you'll design one without wings. Make everything more efficient."
"Planes...can't fly without—"
"And win a Nobel Prize."
"But they really can't—"
"And rule the world!"
"I'm more a fan of democracy." Lauren laughed.
"Well, you engineer those wingless planes and set up a democratic system. Because you're my daughter, and you can do anything you put your mind to," she clapped Lauren on the back and led her to the airport shopping strip. "Let's go."
Mother and daughter entered one of the generic airport travel stores, heading straight for the packaged food in the back. Overpriced trail mixes and snack bags littered the shelves.
"Get one of the big bags; you pick," her mom said. "We can share it on the plane."
Lauren fought back a smile as she reached up and selected one of the 'healthy grain' mixes. She watched her mom's eyes narrow as she slowly and deliberately pulled it down. When the trail mix reached eye level, her mother grabbed it from her and held it at arm's length, disgusted.
"Excuse me," she began, looking very angry even as the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "What the fuck is this?"
Lauren raised an eyebrow; her mother never, ever swore when her dad was around. Hanging out with her daughter, though, seemed to bring out the teenager in her forty-seven year old mind. Her mom shook her head and put the bag back, replacing its presence with one more to her liking. She held it up in front of Lauren and waved a hand below it. "See? Y'know the good stuff when it has M&Ms. None of this 'healthy' crap. You're eighteen, on your first vacation to France, and your metabolism hasn't rolled over and died yet. Live a little, my daughter!" she finished dramatically.
After the 'good stuff' was paid for, they reached the terminal as 'Zone A for Flight Seventeen-Oh-Four to Paris' was being called. Lauren's dad now had his computer bag in his lap, and stood to walk with them to the boarding gate. He looked at the both of them and shook his head, the receding white-blond hair on his scalp all messed up from the short nap.
"I see how it is now. Just abandon old dad to the elements while he's sleeping, that's a good plan. That trail mix is for me, right?" he asked, reaching for the bag.
"Mister Brandon Jonathan Mallory," Lauren's mom raised a brow as they entered the line with their belongings. "Did you do anything to earn this trail mix?"
"I slaved at the firm for the past year for this family, and what do I receive?" Her dad put a hand to his heart as if his wife's words cut him deeply. "A lonely repose in a plastic chair, while my family—my life!—goes off to buy food, all for themselves."
"Wowww..." her mom drew out the word and spoke out of the side of her mouth to Lauren. "Twenty-two years of holy matrimony and he's still a drama geek." she shook her head and handed the trail mix to her husband. "Here, take it. Gawd, you made me feel bad for you."
"Gee, thanks, dear." he said, grinning.
"Dork." she chuckled, guiding Lauren ahead of her to the ticket scanner. Lauren carried her backpack on one arm down the boarding tunnel, pausing every few seconds as the little boy ahead of her struggled to pull his mini Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase over the metal ridges of each section. Once her family finally got on the plane it was a short time before they found their seats, somewhere near the back. Lauren's was a row ahead of her parents', and she was happy to see that her aisle seat had a built-in movie player on the back of the one in front of her. Gotta love international flights.
In time, the 'B' and 'C' groups were permitted onboard, and the plane began filling up with loud voices and the struggles of people to fit their bags above their seats. Lauren tucked in her legs to let a young man get to the window seat in her row. He gave a nod in gratitude as he sat down, and she smiled in return. Several years ago, she would have been secretly pleased to sit next to a guy that looked like this. The male was maybe early twenties, brown hair, nice face with a good complexion; she might have called him 'hot' if he didn't look like he spent all day indoors. His skin was a pasty off-white, closer in skin tone than anyone Lauren had ever seen to a family she would have rather not been reminded of on her Parisian vacation. However, the physical reminder was now in her brain and a few vague, unpleasant memories came floating back along with a twinge of irritation.
She remembered the Advanced Placement class she had taken with Alice Cullen. European History, it had been, and she had sat right next to the pixie-haired ditz. The research project on the role of nobility on trans-regional trade had kept Lauren up late for two weeks in her attempt to finish on time, and she had gotten a ninety-four, the best grade in class except for one. Alice Cullen, the perpetually quirky, tiny girl in the back of the class who never paid attention and browsed fashion magazines during lectures, had turned in her report a week early and received a perfect grade, robbing the entire class of any extra 'curve points' on the project. Lauren had privately raised her suspicions of 'outside cooperation' on Cullen's report to her teacher, but the concerns had been immediately dismissed when Alice herself denied them and her boyfriend bolstered the dismissal.
Lauren grimaced as she recalled her telephone discussions with Jess—when the two still talked every night—who had Honors Psychology senior year with Alice's adopted brother/boyfriend (which Lauren personally found extremely creepy), Jasper Hale. Apparently, Jessica had finished that class with an eighty-eight because all potential curve points on tests and essays had been negated by Jasper's Eternal One-Hundreds On Anything And Everything, as Jess called them. Any accusations of cheating on his part were always handwaved by the teacher, who never seemed to feel concern about it. It was almost eerie, how calm and dismissive the instructors seemed to be when it came to the Cullens and Hales.
The grating screech of cheap plastic being rent open made Lauren wince and then narrow her eyes as her mother's triumphant 'heh-heh!' sounded from the seat behind her. A poking at her arm prompted the teen to turn around, where she was offered a handful of trail mix from the very-badly-opened-and-now-impossible-to-seal-shut plastic bag. Lauren's mother smiled proudly as her daughter merely shook her head.
"And there's a reason you couldn't open it like you're supposed to?" Lauren asked, tapping the ripped-in-half 'easy seal' on the inside of the bag.
"It didn't want to open. This was the only way," Her mother insisted. "Trust me."
"I'm sure there were other ways."
"I'm the adult here. My way's the best, in any case."
"Alright, Mom." Lauren grinned and took a handful of the trail mix as the mini-screens on the back of everyone's seats came to life and the routine safety video began.
"Welcome aboard, and thanks for flying with us. We're dedicated to making your flight safe and comfortable..."
She'd heard the presentation more than enough times before. Lauren used her free hand to pull out the SkyMall magazine and began flipping through it. Useless junk, useless junk, that lady's way too excited about that knife set, her internal commentary droned, bet she's planning on stabbing that guy with the cat-shaped travel pillows. He's cheating on her with the bitch on the ultra-deals page.
Lauren then arrived at a page with multiple makeup ads and paused, an icy feeling in her chest. She didn't bother reading the product descriptions, already distracted by the aggressively perfect people on the page. The models' sultry eyes stared back at her own pale green ones, their dark lashes sweeping outwards like the wings of some majestic bird. Each strand was completely defined, with no trace of the time-created clumping Lauren knew was slowly forming on her own eyelashes. That familiar sense of dread and inadequacy was beginning to build in her gut, and Lauren realized that she should turn the page and eliminate the impact of the models' stares. But some hypnotizing power held her in place.
She soon found herself running the tip of a finger over each of her eyebrows, wondering if they followed the same flawless, perfectly in-line contours as the women on the glossy page. Of course they don't...she berated herself, can't even see my eyebrows if you're not looking for them. One of the models had the same platinum blonde hair as Lauren, and her eyebrows were perfectly sculpted and very much visible, accenting the pair of shockingly bright blue-green eyes below them. My eyes're too pale, too flat...
The shining green eyes and white teeth mocked her. You wanted to be like me. But you can't.
She scrunched her eyes shut and roughly turned the page. Shut up, her mind bellowed. Shut up shut up shut up—you can't be like that! Photoshop and alteration and smoke and mirrors! You're fuckin' fine like this.
But another, higher pitched voice whispered from the very back of her mind...aren't you?
The magazine cover bent under her fingers as the overly gleeful video finished. "...thanks for your attention. Enjoy your flight."
SkyMall was stuffed into the seat pocket in a less than gentle manner as the plane began to roll down the runway. Lauren reluctantly accepted another handful of trail mix as they began gaining speed.
"Remember, have an M&M every thirty seconds and your ears won't pop," her mom said happily, cradling the giant bag of snack food on her lap. "Eating helps with that."
Lauren nodded and tossed an M&M into her mouth as the plane shuddered once, front wheels now off the ground. She heard her dad giving a sarcastic 'woohoo!' as the aircraft entered the sky. Both armrests were hers for the taking, since the middle seat had remained empty through the entire boarding process. The brunet guy next to her had pulled out a pair of headphones and was busy selecting a song from his phone, obviously not bothering to wait for the okay from the pilot.
Twenty minutes of waiting later, the seat belt buttons ding-ed off and the screens on the backs of the seats were switched on. Lauren wasted no time in testing out the various buttons, and was happy to see that there were already four people, or rather, their location numbers, in the Trivia boards for the opening game. She smirked when she saw the label for the place directly behind her at the top of the list, turning to find her mother giving her an evil look between the gaps in the seats.
"All will fall before me!" Her mom threatened, before giving an evil laugh. "Nothing can stand in my way!"
"You're so mature. You a Bond villain or something?" Lauren rolled her eyes. "And you say Dad's the geeky one."
Mrs. Mallory blinked twice before answering. "Just play the game, Lauren. The fact that you just called me names is gonna make it so much better when you lose."
"Well, I might be better at this stuff now," Lauren said, pressing the 'Enter Match' button. "We haven't played Airplane Trivia since I was twelve, you know."
"And I haven't played since I was forty-one. You've got nothin'."
"The game just started, Mom."
"Then stop distracting me."
"You started—"
"Shaddup. I'm in the zone."
Lauren closed her mouth.
Samantha Mallory's 'zone' should have been grounds to kick her out for cheating, Lauren decided several hours later. The youngest Mallory was barely hanging on to second place against Seat 22B, while her mother blew away all eight competitors by over thirty points. Something about working in a travel agency for thirteen years had granted her mom the supernatural ability to accumulate more trivia knowledge than Alex Trebek. Yet another round was on the brink of starting and her mother was showing no hint of quitting while she was ahead, if the firmly-set yet slightly-evil smile she wore was any indication of her resolve.
The historical figure 'Vlad the Impaler' was the primary inspiration for the classic novel by which of the following authors?
Lauren lazily selected 'Bram Stoker' from option C. Easy one, she thought, and wasn't surprised to see that all but one contestant had gotten it correct. She blinked several times, suddenly aware of the vague irritation in her left eye that was steadily changing into something almost painful. Contacts drying out...Lauren thought, annoyed. Leaving to put the saline solution on them in the bathroom involved quitting the trivia game or timing out and being eliminated. She really didn't want to do that, but her blinking and instinctive rubbing was only making her eye worse.
With a resigned grumble, she exited the game and unbuckled her seatbelt. The lunch cart was just now starting to make its way down the aisle; she'd be back from the bathroom before it got to her seat. Lauren stood and pulled her carry-on bag down from the overhead bin, scrabbling blindly inside for the plastic case with her toiletries. Her mother always made the family hold the necessities in their carry-on in case of a lost-luggage scenario with the airline.
Contact case and solution in hand, she slowly and awkwardly maneuvered around the legs and purses jutting into the aisle, not wanting to disturb the fifty percent or so of people who had taken the opportunity of calm air to catch up on sleep. Lauren paused a moment at the sight of a toddler who had fallen asleep with a zoo of stuffed animals surrounding her, head lolling onto the back of a fluffy triceratops. Cute...she thought, before moving on.
The bathroom was, predictably, cramped and confined with a distinct antiseptic-y smell. The mirror was obviously very old, several stains and cloudy spots from fermented cleaner making the reflections almost unseeable. Lauren struggled to find a clean spot to monitor the contact removal procedure. Settling on one that was only marginally blurred, she carefully removed the lenses and placed them in their case with the saline solution.
With all close objects growing a halo of illegible edges, she turned to the door. As she tried to undo the plastic lock, the plane suddenly jolted sharply, causing the contact case to fumble from Lauren's fingers and hit the floor with an abnormally loud clatter.
Damnit—don't be broken...only brought two sets...shit...Without thinking, she knelt down and scooped up the plastic case, examining it for any cracks or damage while on one knee.
Another, more violent shudder wracked the plane. Lauren gave a huff of air as she was thrown forward and her head struck the solid laminate edge of the bathroom counter with a dull crack. Blinding pain streaked through her skull and down her spine as her vision swam, the contact case again dropping to the floor. Lauren instinctively pressed her hands to her head, squeaking in pain at the contact before jerking them away.
"Oh, fuck…" she whimpered. There was a smudged smear of red on one of her palms.
A rapid knocking cut through the agony mere moments later.
"Hey, you okay in there?" the man's voice was muffled through the sliding door. "We heard someone yell."
Did I scream? Lauren scrabbled for the lock, pushing the tab back before the entryway folded in on itself. She looked up, and a blurry shape stared down at her. Squinting her eyes revealed it to be a wide eyed flight attendant.
"Oh, shit," he turned to the younger hostess behind him. "Kayla, we need the med kit. Hurry."
The brunette woman hurried to the shelves at the front of the cabin, and the man reached down to help Lauren stand. She managed, but the attendant insisted on having her sit against the counter while Kayla was gone. Though the pain in her head was far from ebbing, she felt silly sitting on the plastic block while a man who was half a head shorter than her gripped her forearms as if she was suddenly going to topple over again. She was fine.
"Ooh, yeah...that was a bad bump." Kayla had rushed back in, nose wrinkling in pity as she pulled several things out of the first aid kit. "We got Neosporin, Band-Aids, and gauze—" she glanced to her colleague, struck by something. "God, it doesn't need stitches...does it, Steve?"
Lauren's chest seized up. "Stitches—?"
Steve cut her off. "No, you're gonna be fine. Just clipped the corner of the counter a bit, is all. Neosporin, Kayla. And Band-Aids, please."
As Steve set the bandage on her forehead, Lauren winced from the pressure. He grimaced apologetically. "Yeah. You're gonna have a pretty nasty bruise. Cut'll heal in a couple days, though. It wasn't that bad."
"You traveling with anyone? Parents, friends, brothers 'n sisters?" Kayla asked. "I can tell 'em what happened while I'm putting the kit back."
"Parents. Mom and Dad," Lauren said. "Um...row twenty-six, I think."
The dark-skinned woman nodded and went off down the aisle. Steve stepped out of the compartment, leaving the way clear for Lauren. "You're okay to walk and all? Not dizzy or anything?"
"Don't think so," Lauren tried to laugh, but it just made her head throb worse. "Thank you so much, by the way."
"Oh, yeah—anytime!" the blond man grinned and handed her the rogue contact case as she exited. She made her way back down the aisle, catching a few pitying glances as people's eyes were drawn to the fresh bandage. As she neared her seat, her mom and dad half stood and turned to worry over her.
"God—you okay? The attendant said you fell and hit your head...ooh," her dad winced as Lauren motioned to her Band-Aid. "That's not gonna be pretty."
"I know, Dad," Believe me. "I'm fine."
"It hurt at all?" her mom's trivia game timed out, expelling her from the competition, as she gently pulled her daughter closer to examine the wound.
"Not really," Lauren shook her head, ignoring the rhythmic pulse of pain at the source. She flinched as her mother's hand lightly grazed over the skin beside the Band-Aid. "Ow. That did."
"Yep. You're gonna have a big bruise there when we get off the plane." her mother said.
"I know." The models' glimmering eyes and flawless skin taunted her.
Her mom let go as Lauren settled back down in her seat, thankful that the backs were heavily cushioned. She switched off the screen in front of her and fastened the seat belt for good measure. "I…I think I'm going to sleep now. Kinda tired."
"Got it, sweetie. Just rest. We'll get you something to eat when you wake up, okay? The cart lady'll understand," her mom's voice carried over from behind. "Sorry this vacation's off to such a crappy start."
"Mom, no—it's not a big deal, just..." Lauren yawned. "Just a little bump."
"You want a blanket? The flight attendants…"
"Should be fine. Not cold or anything."
"Okay, then. Love you, sweetheart."
Lauren settled back in her seat and closed her eyes, hearing only the hum of the airplane. "Love you too, Mom."
Thank you for reading! You specifically, the one staring at this screen. Remember that you are important and make differences every day. I love, and am eternally grateful to, you for that. Hope to see you next time!
(A warning that this was a feel-good chapter. The next chapter is going to be quite graphic and descriptive on the violence front. I will post a more elaborate warning in the author's note for Chapter 2.)