The next morning...

On the RER B train headed straight to Charles de Gaulle terminal three, the rowdy American students from the night before were now nothing short of subdued. Their quiet disposition had little to do with inward reflection, and everything to do with a hangover. Lindsey and her crew were popping Advils and sucking down coconut water, whereas Jake and his buddies were busy inhaling baguette sandwiches. Cast off in his own section, the bespectacled Professor Simpson took a sip from a paper cup of green tea. He seemed utterly relaxed, making Mira all the more certain that his night had been filled with "adults only" Pay-Per-View.

Mira and Rachel were sitting across from each other, and in perfect unison, they each took a bite of their almond croissants.

"This is heaven," Rachel said. "And I'm an atheist."

Mira nodded. "It's definitely a four out of five, but we still didn't get to try the best almond croissant in Paris; and multiple sources confirm it's the best!"

"Maybe, but if I'd actually let you take us there, we totally would've missed our flight," Rachel said. "A two-euro croissant is not worth a missed flight."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Mira muttered. She took another bite and noticed little pastry flakes falling onto her "very Parisian" scarf. "Dammit I just bought this." She removed the scarf and set it beside her on the empty seat.

A minute later the squeaky brakes brought the train to a halt, sending a sea of travellers rushing to the luggage racks. The students and Professor Simpson disembarked quickly, except for Jake who was finishing up his second sandwich.

Mira followed her classmates up the escalator, but as soon as she took the first step she realized something wasn't right. She touched her neck and gasped. "My scarf!" That was all it took for Mira to push past a mother and son, as she raced down the escalator in the wrong direction, hiking backpack and all. "Sorry!"

Rachel waited nervously at the top of the escalator. "Hurry up!"

Mira nodded as she squeezed her way back inside the train. She almost fell over when Jake's giant backpack pummelled her in the face.

"Hey dick!" she cried, massaging her cheek. "Watch where you swing that thing!"

Jake didn't exactly seem apologetic. "When a man's putting his backpack on, you should know enough to step aside."

She scowled. "What kind of moron puts his backpack on in a crowded train when there's an open platform right there?"

Before Jake could batter up with another dismissive remark, two men barrelled into the train. They were yelling at each other in French, and once they started trading punches, nearby passengers cleared out as quickly as they could. Mira tried to join them by making her escape, but Jake's giant backpack was blocking her way. As for Jake, he was too busy being a hero to take any notice. "Come on you guys, break it up!"

Mira's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, stay out of it!"

Jake was too far into "American hero" mode to listen, and a second later he was doing his best to get between the fight. A second after that he got punched in the nose.

The echo of heavy footsteps on the platform was apparent, a steady rhythm of stomping that got louder and louder, until at last three policemen rushed into the train car. When the dust settled, each officer was dragging away an assailant, including a stunned and bloody-faced Jake.

"I don't know these guys!" Jake cried. "I was just trying to stop the fight! Ask her!"

The officer holding Jake turned to Mira, who was standing outside the platform now, clutching her scarf and looking shocked.

"You saw what happened, mademoiselle?" the officer asked.

For half a second, Mira thought about how much she despised Jake, and how funny it would be to have him sent to a French prison. But only for half a second. Mira sighed. "Yes, I saw what happened," she said. "Basically these two guys--"

"Non, non," the officer said, shaking his head and readjusting his grip on Jake. "You will have to come with us to the holding room, and provide a formal statement."

"Holding room?" Mira put her hands on her hips, comically defiant. "I have a plane to catch."

The officer fixed her with a stern glare, and just like that, her hands slid off her badass hips. "Alright," she said meekly, following the officer up the escalator, and into the unknown...

***

10 a.m.

Mira emerged from the other side of a white unmarked door in terminal three, closely followed by Jake who looked ridiculous now, pieces of white tissue stuffed up his nostrils.

"So the plane leaves in fifteen minutes," Mira said; "That's not a big a deal; not a big deal at all." She rushed ahead past several airline counters, nearly out-of-breath given the thirty-pound backpack on her shoulders. "Air France, Air France, Air France...where the hell is Delta? This shit better be alphabetical!" It was clear that Mira was not only talking to herself, but also having a mini psychotic break.

Moments later, Mira rushed right up to the Delta Airlines counter, where a well-groomed smirking male clerk awaited.

"Flight two-three-nine!" she gasped. "You have to tell them to stop!" Mira thrust her ticket and passport in the clerk's face. The clerk simply stared, as Jake stood off to the side with his passport in hand. "Do you hear me?" she went on. "You have to make sure they don't detach that plane-connecty thing! You know that plane-connecty thing? That looks like a giant accordion and connects the plane to the terminal? Do not let them detach that connecty thing!"

The clerk crossed his arms, his smirk as apparent as ever.

Mira waved her hands in front of his face. "Bonjour? Monsieur? Hello? Why aren't you calling the pilot?"

"I'm sorry mademoiselle but the flight is closed."

Mira took a long calming breath. "You don't understand; we were helping the police with an investigation. The French police. The one that keeps you safe."

"Be that as it may---"

"And he put his life on the line to help apprehend the criminals!" Mira pointed to Jake who realized what was happening. Jake approached the counter and nodded.

"It was a very dangerous situation," Jake said. "But we put the lives of French citizens ahead of our own, and in exchange, we need the pilot to turn the plane back around."

Mira almost smiled at Jake's impressive performance, but quickly remembered what was at stake. "It's not a big ask," added Mira. "I mean considering what we went through..."

The clerk made no move to pick up the phone, or to do anything at all. "Your bravery will not be forgotten," the clerk said, a patronizing air in his voice. "But this does not change that the plane will be taking off without you."

Mira didn't know whether to cry or scream.

"However..." the clerk added, as Mira's eyes lit up. "When you provided the police with your flight number, he informed us all about your situation. You are part of a student group, yes?

"Yes!" Mira said.

"And you were under the charge of a Monsieur Simpson?"

"Yes!" Mira said, even louder than the last time.

"Well your professor was able to work with us to put you on the next flight possible to New York City."

Jake sighed. "Alright, now that's what I'm talking about!"

The clerk handed Jake and Mira their new tickets. "Your flight will leave from terminal three, tomorrow at ten a.m."

It took a couple of seconds for Mira to comprehend his statement, and a few seconds longer for Jake. She cleared her throat. "Tomorrow?"

"That's right," said the clerk.

"But what about all the other flights that are headed to New York today?"

"Those are with other airlines," said the clerk.

"But what about connecting flights with Delta?"

"All full."

"Okay the other airlines then; put us on one of those!" Mira was quickly reverting back to the impulse to cry or scream.

The clerk smiled, as patronizing as ever. "If you would like to pay for a different flight, you are welcome to book your business with one of the competing airlines."

"Pay?" Mira backed away from the counter, then walked in a small circle, and then another small circle after that. Once she was done blowing off the obvious steam, she approached the counter again, but not before scowling at Jake. "None of this concerns you? Nope? You're good?"

Jake took a couple of steps back, intimidated by Mira for the first time. "You seem like you've got it covered."

Mira gestured to the clerk. "May I use your phone?"

"Yes, you may. Is this an international call?"

"Yes; I need to call the dean of Columbia University, and tell him that the professor in charge of our safety left us for dead in Paris."

"Ah yes," the clerk nodded. "Monsieur Simpson mentioned you might express this concern, and he asked me to remind you of the liability forms you all signed before embarking on this trip."

Mira's jaw went slack. She was out of ideas.

The clerk clasped his bony little hands together, a satisfied expression on his face. "The counter will be open tomorrow at seven a.m. Please ensure you check in by nine a.m.; we wouldn't want you to miss your flight."

Mira clenched her fists, but before she could do any damage Jake dragged her away.

Mira managed to loosen herself from Jake's grip and stormed off. Then stopped. Then smiled, realizing the huge silver lining in this strange predicament.

Jake hustled after her. "Where are you going?"

"Storage lockers!"

"For what?"

She stopped and turned on her heel.

"You think I'm gonna spend the next twenty-four hours in an airport?" she said.

"I guess not; so what's your plan?"

Mira smiled, a crazy glint in her eyes. "I'm dropping off this bag that's killing my shoulders, and then I'm getting back on that goddamn train, for a magical day of wandering the streets of Paris!" She turned away from him and headed off. "This is gonna be the best day ever!"

Jake just stood confused for a moment, before hurrying in Mira's direction. "Wait up! I'm coming too!"

[Hope you enjoyed chapter two! I would love to hear what you think as each "hour" in the 24 hours progresses, so I hope you'll let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thanks for reading!]