AND LIKE A DREAM DISSOLVED
On the evening before leaving for her senior outreach trip, Hanna Marin's closet looks like a hazard zone. Dresses litter every surface of her bedroom, and the floor is barely visible beneath the shoes that have been tossed in every direction. Feeling defeated by the sheer amount of outfit options, Hanna falls back onto the bed only to collide with the hard suitcase buried deep beneath a pile of tank tops.
"Ow," Hanna groans, rubbing the sore spot on her back.
"What happened in here?" Ashley says, popping her head in as she walks past the room. Her eyes grow wide as she surveys the room.
"Help me choose?" Hanna pleads, desperately.
Ashley takes a deep breath. Rolling her sleeves up, she crosses the room and sits down at the edge of the bed, careful not to wrinkle anything.
"You're lucky," Ashley tells her, "I am an excellent packer."
Together the two of them start arranging the clothes into piles and with her mother's advice, Hanna whittles her many options down so that her suitcase finally closes without bursting the zippers. By the time they finish, both are exhausted and in desperate need of a relaxing bath.
"I'm going to miss you," Ashley says, stroking her daughter's hair. "It's too quiet when you're not around."
"It's only a week," Hanna tells her.
"I know," Ashley replies solemnly, "but it gets me thinking about next year when you'll be away at college and too busy to come home."
"Of course I'll come home!" Hanna assures her. "You probably don't believe this, but I'll miss you too."
"You won't," Ashley teases, "not until you've got to do your laundry."
Hanna rolls her eyes in response, glancing around the room to the piles of clothes that still need to be put away. Mustering her last bit of energy, she gets started sorting them to clear the bed so she'll have somewhere to sleep tonight. Ashley joins in, clinging to any excuse to spend more time with her daughter. They work deep into the night until sleep overcomes and a few hours later, they wake up under a pile of clothes as sunlight streams in through the blinds.
"Han," Ashley's rough voice is barely above a whisper. "You better get up, honey."
"Nooooooo," Hanna whines into her pillow, her eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Come on, you've got an early flight," Ashley chides her.
It takes five cups of coffee and two freezing cold showers to finally wake up the Marin women before they're off to the airport where the rest of Rosewood's senior class is milling about terminal four. A haggard looking teacher is doing a lousy job of keeping the students organized while reading off a checklist and the parents are no help, all weeping and just as exhausted as their children.
Ashley runs after Hanna as she hurries toward her friends. The four of them huddle in a corner while their mothers reminisce over the days when they were too young to go off on their own.
"Remember to wear sunscreen," Ashley reminds her daughter, pushing the bangs away from her forehead.
"I will, Mom," Hanna tells her. "Promise."
As the teacher calls for them to go through the security checkpoint, Hanna kisses her mother goodbye. They hold each other for a long moment, quietly biting back tears. And then finally, Ashley gives a little squeeze and ushers her daughter toward her classmates. It's symbolic in a way, a rite of passage, for Ashley to finally let her go. For so long, it was just the two of them, grieving together after their little family fell apart. And now, what should be a fun, quick trip is just a morsel of the separation their about to face when she goes off to college in a few short months.
But Hanna waves a teary-eyed goodbye to her mother before wiping her tears and running toward the security line. A teacher, balancing a large coffee and a clipboard, makes a vain attempt to keep his students from stirring up trouble. It's a grueling process, handing out flight tickets and herding a group of teenagers around an airport lobby, but eventually they all gather in the empty terminal, arms laden with trashy magazines and excess amounts of chewing gum.
Hanna leans against Spencer's shoulder as she scrolls through her phone. The four friends, who are usually so chatty, barely say two words to each other as they battle sleep in the early hours of morning. Across from Hanna, Aria is curled up next to Emily, her dark hair hiding her face.
"I can't wait until we get to Mexico," Hanna says, checking Spencer's watch for the hundredth time this morning.
"It's not a vacation," Spencer reminds her. "We're building homes, remember?"
Hanna rolls her eyes and sinks further into her seat. Spencer might need the outreach trip for her college applications but she'd read the hotel's website and made a mental note of the three different pools. She wasn't about to let the five bikinis she packed go to waste.
"Whatever," she says finally. "Anyone want a coffee?"
The girls all shake their heads and Spencer holds up the large Americano she's already sipping from in response. Anxious and eager to stretch her legs, Hanna takes her time walking to the furthest coffee shop in the terminal. She's halfway there when a disheveled guy, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, turns the corner and collides with her.
"Watch it," she snaps at him.
"Sorry princess," he grunts before storming past her.
Hanna recognizes him as the sketchy guy who hangs in the darkest corners of the school. He keeps to himself mostly but she recalls how rude he can be, considering how curt he was when she was selling tickets to homecoming. She ignores his lack of manners in search of caffeine and breathes a sigh of relief when she's finally holding a vanilla latte in her hands. The sudden rush of sugar jolts her awake and she wanders back to where her friends are sitting just as their flight is called to start boarding.
"Come on," Spencer says, urging them all up. "I want to make sure there's room in the overhead."
"Why do you insist on carrying your suitcase on?" Emily asks curiously. "We're all going to have to wait at baggage claim anyway."
"Because," Spencer says pointedly, "that way I'll never have to deal with my bags getting lost or scrambling around Mexico trying to find clean underwear."
"You're so pragmatic, it hurts," Hanna informs her.
"That's a new word," Aria teases.
"I've been studying for the SCT test," she retorts. "Vocab is a big deal apparently."
"SAT," Spencer corrects her.
"Does it matter? They write on the cover of the test. That's one of the few things, I don't have to spell," Hanna replies. "Come on. We better get in line before Spencer's bag accidentally gets shipped to Malawi."
That awakens something inside of Spencer and her morning espresso kicks into high gear as she maneuvers her friends through the crowd. They're the first to board once priority fliers are seated and they all notice Spencer's annoyance at sitting in coach with the rest of them when she could have a cushy first class seat and a complimentary sleeping mask. But eventually they manage to board the plane and Spencer leads them to row eleven.
"This is me," Spencer says, stopping to stow her bag overhead before she sits down.
"Me too," Aria chimes in, plopping down next to Spencer.
"I think we're further back," Emily says, urging Hanna forward.
They slowly make their way through the plane, only to be disappointed when they learn their seats are on opposite sides of the aisle. Not to be deterred from spending the entire trip with her friends, Hanna slides in next to Emily, seat numbers be damned.
Both girls are still groggy from their early morning wake up call. Emily shuts her phone off while Hanna flips through a magazine, her foot tapping incessantly as a fear of flying resurfaces.
"You okay?" Emily asks her.
"Yeah," Hanna tells her. "Just too much coffee this morning."
Before Emily can respond, a sour-faced woman approaches their row. A man, presumably her husband, stutters as he tries to get Hanna's attention. After a long-winded attempt to plead their case, his wife finally interjects.
"You're in my seat," she snaps at Hanna, shooting a disgusted look toward her pushover of a husband.
"Sorry, just talking to my friend," Hanna tells her, suddenly frightened by the menacing woman. "I'll move in a minute."
"She's scared of flying," Emily chimes in. It was meant to offer comfort and possibly a solution but it's only another reminder of Hanna's fear. "Can't one of you take her seat? It's just on the other side of the aisle."
"You probably should have thought of that before you got on a plane," the woman says annoyed. "Do I need to call a flight attendant over to clear this up?"
"That's not necessary," a new voice cuts in.
Hanna, feeling increasingly nervous about takeoff, shivers as she looks up to see the same shaggy-haired guy from earlier standing behind this couple. His pointed gaze, which he often reserves for fellow Rosewood students, is now targeting the woman.
"You can have my seat," he says annoyed. "I'm the one next to hers. You can still sit together."
"No need to be a hero," the woman tells him. "We can all sit in our assigned seats. I'd be happy to call a stewardess and have this cleared up."
"Look lady," he retorts, "you're holding up all these people behind us. Just take the seat and sit down before you cause a mutiny. A thank you will suffice."
She huffs in response and Hanna stifles a laugh as they make a show about moving to the opposite side, allowing their mediator to take the aisle seat next to her. Conflicted between her previous annoyance with him and this newfound appreciation, she finally musters up a note of gratitude.
"Thanks," she tells him. "You didn't have to do that."
"She was being an ass," he says, just loud enough for the woman to hear. "Plus I couldn't stand hearing her voice anymore."
"Well, thank you. I'm Hanna, by the way," she pauses for a moment, waiting for him to reciprocate, before adding. "This is usually the part where you introduce yourself."
"Caleb," he says gruffly.
She watches as he leans down, stowing his worn backpack under the seat in front of him. He pauses for a moment, digging through the front pocket, before he pulls out a pair of headphones, wrapped in a neat loop. Before he can plug in his music, prompting the universal sign for leave me the fuck alone, Hanna stops him.
"Hey, you're with the Rosewood trip, right?" she asks.
"What's it to you?" he shoots back.
"Just, making conversation," she tells him. "It's a seven hour flight."
He's saved from responding when a flight attendant's voice comes through the announcement system, reminding everyone to take their seats before takeoff. Before Hanna can ask another question, his headphones block out any further interrogation and she sinks back into her chair as Emily offers her a stick of gum.
"Helps with the nerves," she says.
"Thanks," Hanna says, with a deep sigh.
"It's gonna be fine," Emily says, squeezing her hand. "I'll let you borrow my SAT study guide. You'll fall asleep in no time."
"Thanks Em," Hanna replies, but her voice is still shaky.
Her mood doesn't improve as the plane starts to taxi and she's a shivering mess during takeoff, gritting her teeth as the plane accelerates. It's not until the plane is calmly in the air that she finally lets go of Emily's hand, leaving behind deep marks where her nails dug into her friend's skin.
Hanna lets herself relax, trying to enjoy the fashion magazine in her lap but wishing she remembered her fake ID to order a vodka soda. She's all but forgotten about Caleb, the mysterious boy next to her who hasn't looked up from beneath his gray hoodie, and except for the occasional death look she gets from the vile women across the aisle, it's turning out to be a decent flight.
"Don't pay her any attention," Emily tells Hanna. "She just needs something to complain about."
"Feel bad for the husband though," Hanna says softly.
"He knew what he was getting into," Emily replies with a shrug. "In a few hours, we'll be in Mexico. No parents, no A, just fun."
In her rush to get away, Hanna had almost forgotten about their anonymous tormentor but Emily has a point, being in another country makes for a great getaway and offers at least one week of reprieve from the constant paranoia of being watched. That alone is enough to allow Hanna to finally enjoy the trip, without fear of being fifty thousand feet in the air, at least until the plastic cup on her tray table starts rattling.
"This is your captain speaking," she hears the words come over the announcement system. "We're experiencing a small bit of turbulence. Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign has been turned off."
Hanna exhales slowly, trying to ward off the terror as she clamps down on the armrests on either side of her. She doesn't even consider the fact that her fingers have wrapped around Caleb's hand, clinging for dear life, as her greatest fear is realized. From overhead, the oxygen masks are released and Hanna is officially in panic mode, despite the next words that are heard throughout the plane.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the captain says, "please stay calm…"
AN: Thanks for reading! This is the second story that's part of my Five Days of Haleb project. I hope you like it and you're ready for some Haleb goodness! Wanna chat? Find me on Twitter and Tumblr as "halebfic"