I do not own My-So-Called life or the characters, ect.

Here is the newly revised first chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Inside a New York airport, a young woman rushes through a heavy crowd of travelers. Her hair is long and blonde. She has luminescent green eyes, high cheekbones, and soft full lips. She is the kind of woman who looks absolutly beautiful without ever applying an ounce of make-up. She is slender with nice long legs. She has the kind of body women would kill for. She is dressed casually in jeans, a white collared shirt, and a figure fitting leather jacket.

Coffee. I need coffee.

Stopping to get some coffee at one of the busy vendor's stations, her cell phone rings inside her black designer purse. Pushing a strand of her blondish hair from out of her face, she reaches down and answers the phone. Her voice soft and rich.

"Hello. Hey Rickie. Yeah, I'm at the airport now. Yes, yes I know. Well, the flight is about 6 hours so I'll arive around...3. Hold on a sec," sliding the phone from away from her mouth she looks at the young teenage cashier and deceids on her order, "Large white carmel oreo please." After taking out money from her small black billfold and handing it to the wide-eyed clerk, she remembers the person on the other end of the phone and begins speaking again. "You're gonna pick me up from the airport right? That's the last thing need is to be stranded in an airport in L.A. It's cool that I can crash at your place right? I mean I can get a hotel, that's no problem. Okay great. Hey, you didn't tell her I was coming right? Good. I want it to be a surprise. Oh, I cannot wait to see you guys, it's been too long. I'll see you soon. 'Kay, bye."

Grabbing her iced coffee from the cashier and mouthing a 'thank you' she turns and begins walking towards the gate. She is a little early, but she doesn't mind sitting and waiting.

I'd rather be early than late.

Looking around at the fellow travelers, she begins to make up stories about where they are all going, like the guy sitting a few chairs down to her left. He is an older man, maybe in his mid-forties, salt-and-pepper hair, and thin rimmed glasses. He was dressed in and expensive three peice black stipped suit, with a yellow tie. He was not unattractive, but not handsome either.

He's leaving his wife, here in New York, to go meet up with his mistress in Florida. Probably told his wife he was going on a business trip. Ha. When he gets there he'll probably find the mistress has become pregnant, and he will deny the baby being his.

She knew it was absurd, but she has always had an active imagination. Usually she saw the best in people, but it was sometimes fun to make villians out of heroes. Her next victim was an elderly couple, maybe in their sixties. They were talking to each other like they had a secret that no one else had been let in on.

They are probably wondering if anyone recognizes their faces from the wanted pictures. Do they even make those anymore? They are nervous about getting caught with the 1.5 million dollars they just stole from the bank. Modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

She smiles and laughs actually imagining the couple robbing a bank. Guns in their hands, and ski mask on their faces.

The young woman notices it has become more crowded and looks at her silver wrist watch. At about the same time a pretty burnette flight attendent announced on the PA system they were beginning to board passengers. The woman stands up and walks to the line that was beginning to form in front of the stout attendant.

She hands her ticket to the woman, who looks it over, as if to make sure she wasn't supposed to be on another flight and just deceided last minute she wanted to go to Los Angeles.

"Have a nice trip," the attendant says looking up and smiling at her.

"Thanks." She says as she is handed her ticket back and begins walking down the hallway.

I feel like one of those mice stuck inside a maze and can only go where the tunnel goes. Thank god I am not clausterphobic.

Finding her seat on the airplane She looks up and makes room for her carry-on bag in the large off-white compartment. Before sliding it up there she grabs out her notebook and pen.

Just in case I get inspired.

Taking her seat next to the window, she opens the notebook on her lap, and then stares out the window. Most of the passengers were already sitting in their assigned seats, but a few straglers came in every few seconds. A petite middle-aged woman with almost orange and prominent lines on her face, boarded and began making her way past the rows of faded blue seats. She stopped double checked to make sure she was in the right spot, and slid into the seat in the middle, right next to the young woman.

She stares at he young woman and says, "Don't I know you?"

"No, I don't thinks so." She relies, looking at the older woman and trying to remember if she had seen her before. She didn't look familiar.

"Yes, you're that author. Oh what was that book...'My So-Called Life'. Am I right? The woman asked obviously excited.

Blushing the young woman answered her with a yes.

"I thought I recognized you from the picture, but I must say you are prettier in person."

"Thank you." She said, turning and even darker shade of red.

"I'm Carol Martin, it's very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Angela Chase."

"I can't believe I'm sitting next to Angela Chase. Your book was so great, so honest. It reminded me of my own past experiences."

"Yea, how so?" she loved hearing feedback about her book. Liked the fact that she wasn't the only one who felt what she had when she was an adolescent.If only I had known that then.

"Just how I thought everything bad that happened was the end of the world, I was so dramatic." Carol said laughing.

The two of them continued to talk about the book. After a few hours of talking Angela began to get sleepy and deceided it would probably be best for her to take a nap, Carol understood. She went to remove the notebook from her lap, and before closing it she noticed she had been doodling the entire time and she had not ever noticed. She read what she had written, it was one word that she had repeatedly went over with the pen. She felt a little uneasy as she read it.

Jordan.