Eiliyah
Two weeks after my parents told me the horrible news, here I was, sitting in a smelly airplane.
The stewardess was demonstrating what to do if an emergency happened, hm...what if the plane's engine shut down right now? That would be a miracle, but I doubt I would be lucky enough for something like that to happen.
I glanced around the plane. I had the window seat, the seat next to me was empty(and hopefully it would stay that way, I was not in the mood for some stranger to try and talk to me) and across the aisle was Mom and Dad.
It was a small plane, only two seats per row on each side. Everything was cramped and the air was stuffy, I could almost smell all the germs floating around me. It was so not 1st class.
I pulled out my fashion magazine and burred my face in it as I waited for the plane to start it's take off.
"Eiliyah, isn't this exciting?" Mom asked, leaning over her arm rest, most likely to get a better view of me.
"No," I replied plainly, trying my best not to roll my eyes. Did she really have to act excited? Why couldn't she just tell Dad she hated the idea of going to Africa just as much as me.
"Oh come on, Eiliyah. Cheer up, think of the fun we are going to have in Africa." Dad smiled, giving me a thumbs up. "Are you ready to see some wildlife?"
"No," I repeated and stared instantly at my magazine. Gosh, when was this stupid plane going to take off?
Mom sighed and turned to Dad, as they whispered about how 'amazing' the trip was going to be I just read about the latest fashion trends.
After a few amazing moments of pure fashion, my reading was interrupted by a sigh.
I peered up from my magaize, shit, somebody just sat in the empty seat next to me. I wanted to tell the girl to leave, but I knew I couldn't. Oh, well. I thought, hopefully she doesn't try to talk to me. And if she does, then I'll just make her not talk to me.
I examined her, she looked about my age, 16.
My eyes landed on her arms, and I almost gagged: black laced gloves. Ew.
Afraid her outfit would be matching to her gloves, I stared down at my own outfit instead, it was perfect: light blue and grey plaid dress and my favorite purple and blue stripped heals. I smirked, guess some people aren't as lucky, or fashionable, as me.
Jamila
Who knew I would be here, in an airplane, ready to to fly to Africa. My sister, my amazing sister, paid for my ticket. I decided that I should call and thank her as soon as I got off the plane. She was the only one I told about my and Ella's dream, but I never knew she was saving her extra bucks ever since Ella...hit rock bottom, just so I can live our dream.
I wanted to jump out of my seat and cheer, I wanted to laugh and show everyone how happy I was to finally make my and Ella's dream come true.
Instead, I just ran my fingers over my favorite black laced gloves. I started wearing gloves when I started cutting. And these gloves were special to me, they use to belong to Ella. She used them for the same reason I was using them for: to hide the scars, hid the proof of the pain, to hide myself.
I remember when Ella first told me about her cutting. It was just like any other day after school.
I still remember the exact conversation we had. Every move, every action.
I was sitting on the old swing set and she was hanging upside down on the monkey bars in my backyard.
After a few seconds of silence she just came right out and said it. I remember her exact words: "Hey, Jam." She stretched out her arms and grabbed onto the steal bar, pulling herself up she twisted her body into a sitting position on top of the monkey bar. "Do you like my gloves?" She put her arms out in my direction.
"Yeah, they are cool." I said, eyeing the black laced gloves.
She quietly peeled them off her arms and reveled bright red slashes on each arm, "no-they are deadly. Look at my scars, they are ugly, but addicting."
My eyes widened at the sight of her arms, I couldn't speak or move, I wanted to reach out and touch her cuts, but I didn't. I just stayed seated on the rusty old swing in shock.
"It relives my pain," she continued, and I couldn't help but notice a twinkle in her eye as she talked. Her lips slowly curved into a smile and she seemed to brighten. Did she really feel joyful about her scars? But didn't she describe them as ugly?
My head spun and my vision blurred. I couldn't believe what she was showing me.
She cut herself for a whole year, or at least I knew about her cutting for a whole year. I just kept shaking my head and thought the idea of cutting was repulsive. Of course, once she...hit rock bottom, I started cutting. And yes, it did relieve my pain. But it brought more pain as well, I guess that's why she said it was addicting. Once you start it was hard-almost impossible-to stop.
I glanced up to see a girl staring at my feet.
"Uhm, hi?" I said.
She quickly lifted her head and stared at me, her expression was cold.
I dared to stare right back.
She cocked her head to the side, like a lost puppy. Did she expect me to say something?
My eyes drifted to her neck, she was wearing a gold circular pendant with a stone increased sun in the middle of it.
She must of noticed me admiring her pendant necklace, because she placed her fingers on it and twirled it around.
After a few seconds of me not saying anything, she spoke. "So, I see you like my Tiffany."
Tiffany? Wow, she must really want me to envy her or something, why the hell would she say it was a Tiffany unless she wanted to brag?
She must of noticed my shock, because she continued to brag. "Oh," she placed her hand on her chest as if sympathetic, "I'm sorry. I forgot not everyone can be as lucky as me. Well, don't worry. Save your pennies and maybe you can buy a knockoff."
I glared at her, was I really going to let some rich snob get to me? No way.
So I just grabbed my book out of my carry on bag and ignored her. Even though I really wanted to show her that money doesn't make you a better person-it just makes you a bitch-I just read. And hopefully, after the plane ride ends, I'll never see her again.
Author's Note: Well the two girls are off to Africa. This is when the Lion King starts to come in.
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