I had to cut this one up into two parts because I'm seriously crunched for time. It's almost 1am and I'm sleepy :(
Anyways, the match of the chapter will be on the next part.
Enjoy! :)
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January 19th, 2012
“Bag Search”
Plane to Winnipeg, WWE Jet, around . . . 1am
“I think you're overreacting,” Alma told me. In my seat between Kat and Alma in the very back of the plane, I was restless. After what happened at RAW this week, I've been on edge around Kayla, who was asleep about four rows ahead of us.
“How am I overreacting?” I asked my best friend, whipping my head to look at her. She shrugged.
“It was a fight,” she said simply. “It's not like it's going to lead to anything. A scraped elbow, maybe, but that seems like the reasonable extent to which this can go.”
“Yeah, I mean,” Kat said, rubbing her stomach, having just been sick in the bathroom a few minutes ago, “I heard she was in the whacky shack while she was recovering.”
“That is not true,” I said, turning to the pregnant Latina beside me. As to why she was still wanting to tour in her state of pregnancy, I'll never understand. “And even if it were, how would that comfort me?”
“Well, it would comfort you because they'd watch Kayla closely for any acting out,” Kat said. “I would.”
“Whatever,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I just want to sleep.”
“Then sleep,” Alma said.
“I can't when that psychopath is right there,” I said, gesticulating in a wild manner toward Kayla.
“She could be a killer, you know,” Kat said, nodding sagely. I threw my head back.
“Again, how is that comforting?” I asked.
“I never said it was supposed to be,” she said honestly. I nodded admittedly.
In response to my foot tapping wildly on the carpeted plane floor, Alma sighed.
“Y'all need to calm yourself,” she said, her voice louder than in our previous conversations, making me afraid she'd wake up the others.
“Shhh,” I said. “I'm fine.”
“No, you're not.”
“Well, who's gonna blame me?” I snapped. “That girl had crazy eyes! I think her contacts hid them before but now I see them. They're like gorgeous green cesspools of craziness.”
Alma cocked her eyebrow. “'Gorgeous?'”
I shrugged. “So? Her eyes are pretty!”
“Yeah,” Kat agreed. Alma furrowed her brow at her. “Oh, shut up.”
“Well,” Alma said, turning her attention back to me. I looked at her. “I must admit . . . she does seem a little out of it mental-wise.”
“Huh,” Kat said, looking down at her lap. “I did see her yesterday in training with a knife.”
“What was she doing with it?” I asked.
