24 Hours in Paris

Original Edition: Chapter Two

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.