Miss Classified (Book 3 of the Miss Series)

Twenty Three:

Aimee

We had finally finished the last scene. Rob had brought us 50 year aged wine, and we all clinked our glasses in celebration. We got a little merry, danced a little, partied a little, and then Noah and I went down to the beach.

Noah is wearing a Nike shirt with patterned pants, Nike socks that pass his ankles and Nike trainers that match his outfit perfectly. He is decked out completely in Nike. I, on the other hand, am wearing my favourite pair of pastel yellow vans, white shorts, a yellow shirt which matches my vans and finally (my favourite) socks which have pineapples all over them. My hair is blowing wild in the salty breeze, hold back only by my sunglasses perched atop my head still there from when we rushed away from the location where we had filmed.

I sit myself down on the sand and run my fingers through it. I smile contentedly. Maybe it's the freedom of letting go... Maybe it's the relief of acceptance... Maybe it's the comfort of knowing that I will be okay... I'm not sure, but maybe, just maybe, that will be the very reason why I feel content - a feeling I haven't felt in the longest time.

I sit on the sand and bask in the sunlight on my skin. I close my eyes, the sound of the waves making me feel at peace. The salty air fills my nostrils and the wind plays with my hair as it flows wildly around my head.

"I'm sorry, Aimee." Noah says suddenly, breaking the silence. I blink open my eyes and a circle of men dressed in black combat suits stand around me. They drag me to my feet, and shock overwhelms me. What the hell? I start to push against them, finding a way of escape, but something bites my shoulder and I suddenly feel so...

"Are those chickens?" I point towards the big flock of birds flying in the sky. "And when did the sky turn green?" I inquire. I yawn. "I am so tired... I think I am going to have a quick power nap now..." I smile and close my eyes, yawning again.

~~~~~~~~~~~
When I was little, I used to ride my bike into the lake in the park near our house. Originally, it started as a mistake, but when I did it once, I enjoyed it so much I never stopped. Eventually, I got all my friends to do it with me, and we built a ramp and ramped our bikes into the lake. I liked the feeling of the adrenaline as I rode off that ramp into the cold water, which engulfed my body with a huge splash. I have always like cold water.

SPLASH! I take that back. I'm not sure how much I like it anymore. I am awakened from some sort of drug induced sleep - I can tell that much because I have an excruciating headache, and I feel like I'm on an entirely different planet. My body feels as though it is buzzing, and everything is blurry. Whatever they hit me with - it must have been a combination of drugs. They just hate me, truly. I can hardly remember yesterday. All I can remember is drinking the wine with the cast and that's about it. I try to blink and focus on my surroundings. It is clear, well not really, but I am in some sort of interrogation room and my hands are cuffed to the table. Amateurs. Maybe not. I can't move anything on my body. It feels as though I have weights which are preventing my movement. Everything feels heavy.

The door opens and I let out a groan as more light is let into the small room. It makes my head pound. It's one of those headaches that are so terrible, you can hardly think. I want to wipe my face to dry up the cold water, but my hands are handcuffed to the table. An African American who looks suspiciously like Noah, and obviously I am half blind at the moment so I'm it entire sure, walks in and sits in front of me, on the opposite end of the table I am trapped with. Sorry bro.

"Miss Johnson." The person who sounds suspiciously like Noah breaks the silence. I groan.

"It's Agent. Agent Johnson. Not Miss. No one calls me Miss." I point out. He chuckles. "And why do you look like Noah? Did you steal his body? Who are you?" I think I'm high. My mouth is saying things my head doesn't agree with. He chuckles again.