Elle's PoV 

The next morning, bright and early, my parents drove me to the airport. My hands were shaking like crazy, so I hid them under my jacket.

"Your teacher will meet you on the plane, right?" My mom asked.

"Yep," I said quickly, nodding. This whole thing was by far the biggest lie I'd ever told. Ever. As in, up until this point, the biggest lie I'd ever told was when Maggie and I stayed up all night, and when my mom asked what time I went to bed I told her a little past midnight.

And now I was on my way to California, for a "field trip." With a twenty-something year old cop who up until recently believed I was clinically insane posing as my teacher. Oh my god... I was a delinquent!

We pulled into the passenger drop off point of the airport and my parents got out of the car to hug me.

"Be safe, have a good time, and bring me back a pinecone or two." My mom giggled before handing me my suitcase.

"Will do," I smiled as convincingly as I could, taking the suitcase. Another downside to all this lying: My parents believed I had an unhealthy obsession with pinecones.

I gave both of my parents another hug, silently apologizing for being such a horrible daughter.

"Oh, and take this," My dad said, handing me a few folded bills-- two hundred dollars!

My eyes bulged, "Dad, you don't need to give me this much!"

My dad shook his head, smiling, "I want to make sure you're able to eat well while on this trip, and have money to buy a second plane ticket back home if you lose yours."

My throat was tight, and I had the urge to scream out the truth right then. Knowing I couldn't trust my voice enough to open my mouth, I just nodded with a smile on my face and hugged him again.

"You better hurry up, Stellie." My dad said, "You'll miss your flight."

I clung tightly to the handle of my suitcase and made my way into the crowded airport. I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous-- and not only about the situation with my parents, I was nervous about flying in general. I'd never done it before. All of the vacations I've been on have been driving distance, so there's never been a reason to fly. Now that I was away from my parents and able to relax a bit, I could focus on the immense fear the idea of hurtling up into the sky in what was essentially a bus with wings brought me.

"Boo!" Marcus exclaimed from behind me.

I shrieked and spun around to glare at him. Would it be against the law for me to slap a cop if he was off duty? "Do you find joy in being a creeper?" I asked, arching one eyebrow.

"Yes," He replied seriously, but then laughed, "You are just so incredibly easy to scare."

"Tell me again why you decided to come along?" I sigh as we made our way through the mob of people to the registry desk.

"Do you really want to attempt to navigate California alone?" Marcus pointed out, "Besides, what if you have to be a legal adult to rent a hotel room?"

"I look like an adult!" I insisted defensively. I'd even straightened my hair and worn it down instead of in my usual pigtails just for the trip.

"Well your luggage choice would give you away in an instant," Marcus chuckled, gesturing to my Mario Bros suitcase.

I said nothing, pulling my bag closer to my chest protectively. So what if it was childish? I liked it!

The next few hours passed in a blur. Marcus registered our luggage, both of us passed through the metal detectors (me twice because I forgot about the dalek keychain in my pocket), and we boarded the plane.

Once on board though, everything seemed to go in slow motion. As the unnaturally smiley flight-attendant went through the safety rules, I found myself growing more and more nervous. Planes were a lot smaller on the inside.

"Are you hyperventilating?" Marcus asked quietly, more amusement in his voice than concern.

"Verging on it." I hissed back, trying to take deep breaths. "I think I might be claustrophobic. I'm not entirely sure though, I've never been in a situation like this before. Have you ever flown?"

"Many many times." Marcus nodded. He seemed perfectly at ease. Jerk.

My attempts to slow my breathing weren't working. In my panic, I began clicking all of the little buttons on the panel over my head. They achieved nothing except for turning on a reading light and a tiny fan (which did nothing but blow the same stuffy, stagnant air in circles.)

"What are you doing?" Marcus asked.

"Trying to make that little masky thing come down!" I grumbled, giving up on the buttons, "Like in the movies! The one that helps you breathe!"

"Well seeing as that only deploys when the plane is crashing, something tells me you don't want the 'little masky thing.'" Marcus laughed, then held out his hand. "Here, squeeze my hand if you want."

I scoffed, "You want me to hold your hand?"

"No," Marcus pulled his hand back, placing it in his lap. "I was just trying to be polite. I thought you might feel more comfortable with something to hang on to."

I opened my mouth to deliver a snarky reply, but then the plane took off with a roar, and while holding back a scream I dove for his hand, holding it tightly with both of mine.

"Ow, ow, ow, okay!" Marcus laughed after the plane had ascended to it's full hight, "We're stable now, you can give me my circulation back."

"Sorry," I apologized, dropping his hand instantly.

"For such a tiny girl, you've got quite a grip." He smiled, shaking his hand in an overly dramatic gesture. "Reminds me of a friend of mine."

I arched an eyebrow, "Girlfriend?" I didn't actually care all that much, I was just curious as to how jerkface like him could get a girlfriend.

"Hah, no." He shook his head, "My cousin's wife actually. Not sure what that would make her to me...cousin-in-law? She's, well..." He laughed again, "She's quite the battle-axe that one."

Just as I was about to ask more, we hit an air-bump-- turbulence it's called-- and I screamed loudly. Loud enough that multiple strangers gave me dirty looks. I stared back, cross eyed, until they looked away.

"You," Marcus stated, "are by far the strangest girl I have ever had the misfortune of meeting."

"Thank you," I replied genuinely, placing a hand over my heart. We hit more turbulence then and once again I yelped.

"Here, weirdo." Marcus sighed, holding his hand out again.

I grabbed it without saying anything, though I took care not to squeeze as hard as before.

"Why don't you just try to fall asleep? It'll be a while until we get to California." Marcus suggested.

"Ha, yeah, like I could sleep while inside this flying metal death trap?" I scoffed.

What felt like moments later, Marcus was nudging me. "Wakey-wakey Miss I-won't-sleep-on-the-plane, we're landing."

"I totally didn't fall asleep." I insisted.

Marcus nodded, smirking. "Tell that to the drool spot on my shirt."

I gasped, my eyes going wide. "I did not! I didn't right? You're joking, right?"

"I dunno," Marcus sighed, showing me the shoulder of his shirt, where there was a noticeable wet spot.

Oh llamas. My eyes were probably the size of my head by this point. "I am sooo sorry!" I cried.

"You completely passed out not five minutes after you refused sleeping. And when I say you were out, I mean you were out! You claimed me as your human-pillow and there was no getting through to you. I poked you a good three or four times but you didn't budge. If not for the snoring and drooling, I would have thought you were dead." He laughed, "But it's fine, really. I'm not bothered."

I let my head fall forward, hitting the back of the seat in front of me. "I am so so so embarrassed."

"No, really, I really don't care." Marcus insisted.

I didn't say anything. I just hit my head gently against the back of the seat in front of me, repeatedly, until the flying metal death trap had safely landed.

"California awaits," Marcus smiled, rising from his seat and stretching before walking out into the isle.

"Thank God," I replied, following after him. "I am soo done with planes."

Marcus shot me a skeptical glance over his shoulder. "What do you mean? We'll be doing this all over again tomorrow night."

I groaned, slamming my head against his back. Planes, I decided in that moment, were the most evil thing in existence.