Hijacked at Sea

I

"Shit," I mutter under my breath as I watch the contents of my purse scatter across the dirty airport floor.

Other passengers continue to walk without missing a beat, some not even bothering to give me a passing glance as I scramble to gather up the random odds and ends I had stuffed in the old leather bag at the last minute. I sigh, ramming my fingers through my dark curls irritably.

"Liv, what are you doing? We're gonna miss our flight," Cam's chipper voice comes from behind me.

I glare at her over my shoulder and gesture at the tubes of lipstick that I hadn't managed to reach yet. Cam laughs, throwing her supermodel blonde hair over her shoulder as if she were in a shampoo commercial. I pick up a pen and throw it at her.

"Cameron, if you're not gonna help, then go on without me," I say, reaching for the nearest tube of lipstick.

I bite back a curse as some woman in a business suit steps down on my hand with the toe of her expensive looking stiletto. She looks down at me like I'm just some dog turd she had stepped in before continuing on her way.

"Bitch," Cam calls after her.

I laugh, shaking my head as I stuff the last few things into my purse. I stand up and cradle the bag against me, mentally cursing the flimsy strap. Cam links her arm with mine, leading me to where our plane has just started boarding.

"I don't know how you do it, Livy," Cam says.

"Do what?" I ask, frowning.

"Keep your calm. I mean, that bitch totally stomped on your hand, probably on purpose, and you didn't say a thing," she says, shaking her head.

I hand my boarding pass and passport to the dark haired steward, mulling over how to answer. He barely glances at my photograph before handing it back. I frown, wondering about the security of the airport as I make my way down to the plane, glancing down at my seat assignment.

"So?" Cam asks, following me down the narrow aisle.

"I don't know. Why should I lose my cool?" I ask, sliding into the window seat.

Cam sighs heavily as she plops into the seat beside me.

"I'm not always gonna be there to defend you, Liv," she says.

"Why not? Don't forget, we made a pact." I grin.

"How could I forget? You'll be a cutting edge movie director and screen writer," Cam says, fanning herself dramatically with her passport.

"And you'll be a Hollywood starlet who people will be saying 'I knew her on social media before she was famous' about," I add.

"And we'll go on fantastic cruises every year!" She grins at me.

"We'll live in next door mansions and eat dinner together every day," I say, leaning back into my seat.

"And we'll show that snooty Liz that we are so much better than she ever was," Cam says.

A sharp pain thuds in my chest. Tears burn my eyes at the mention of Liz. I close my eyes tightly, as if to stop the images that flit through my mind. Liz, with her perfect skin, perfect makeup, perfect life, wrapped around Michael, my (now-ex) boyfriend.

"Shit, Liv," Cam says, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

Tears race down my cheeks in a warm stream. Later on, I'll probably be thankful I had the foresight to put on waterproof eyeliner, but now the only thing that is keeping me breathing is the warm support of Cam beside me.

"He's not worth all the tears," she mutters, holding me tightly.

"How could he just..." I break off as a sob tears its way from my chest. "Is it because I didn't want to go all the way at junior prom?"