(Lara)
"Lara! Reading again?" That was it. I needed an amplifier for my player. Rebecca obviously did too, as she sat up with a start.
"What're you doing reading? Go and spend the deluded man's cash or something."
"What I'd do with a wallet like that… you shouldn't study so, you'll ruin your looks and no one'll want you. Trust me, just go get some prince out there and you'll have it easy."
"Isn't she lucky?" They all broke into song again. "Lucky Lara!"
Rebecca was shaking. I ignored the seatbelt turbulence sign and bolted from my seat, tearing down those carpeted aisles and the faces- the faces. Away. I locked myself up in the bathroom. Then I sat down on the floor and started to cry.
"Lucky Lara," I whispered. "Is that who you think I am?"
So money made someone happy. Staring at piles of cold metal was happiness. Right.
Or was it?
I got completely lost in my thoughts until I heard someone knocking on the door. They couldn't make me come out. Only Rebecca, as far as I knew, could pick locks (as if Miss Millet could) and anyway an airplane lock was sure to be tighter.
With a fierce surge of adrenaline, I suddenly snatched up a glass and threw it against the mirror.
As if in slow motion, I watched my own tear-streaked, glowering face crack, then fall, and finally shatter on the floor. Tiny shards of glass flew up and embedded themselves in the wall and on the sink, sinking in my arms and leaving deep red flecks of blood.
"Lara! Reading again?" That was it. I needed an amplifier for my player. Rebecca obviously did too, as she sat up with a start.
"What're you doing reading? Go and spend the deluded man's cash or something."
"What I'd do with a wallet like that… you shouldn't study so, you'll ruin your looks and no one'll want you. Trust me, just go get some prince out there and you'll have it easy."
"Isn't she lucky?" They all broke into song again. "Lucky Lara!"
Rebecca was shaking. I ignored the seatbelt turbulence sign and bolted from my seat, tearing down those carpeted aisles and the faces- the faces. Away. I locked myself up in the bathroom. Then I sat down on the floor and started to cry.
"Lucky Lara," I whispered. "Is that who you think I am?"
So money made someone happy. Staring at piles of cold metal was happiness. Right.
Or was it?
I got completely lost in my thoughts until I heard someone knocking on the door. They couldn't make me come out. Only Rebecca, as far as I knew, could pick locks (as if Miss Millet could) and anyway an airplane lock was sure to be tighter.
With a fierce surge of adrenaline, I suddenly snatched up a glass and threw it against the mirror.
As if in slow motion, I watched my own tear-streaked, glowering face crack, then fall, and finally shatter on the floor. Tiny shards of glass flew up and embedded themselves in the wall and on the sink, sinking in my arms and leaving deep red flecks of blood.
