crazywithkeyboard

My first 2,500 words have been completed. Yay!

Here's the beginning:

Chapter 1

(setting: Airliner; night; interior)

*PING*

"Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we've encountered a little turbulence, so the captain has turned on the 'Fasten Seat Belt' sign. We would ask that all passengers return to their seats at this time, and please fasten their seat belts. Thank you."

"A little turbulence," I muttered, wringing cola out of my skirt. "Yeah, right. And Janis Joplin just had 'a little drug problem'." I glared at the oily-haired used car salesman in the next seat, but he was completely oblivious to the fact that his drink had bounced off of his tray table during the last "little bit" of turbulence -- and landed on me. His eyes were glassy and glued to the television screen in the seat back in front of him. At least he wasn't trying to flirt with me any more. He'd been pretty persistent. I'd finally resorted to telling him that my -- nonexistent -- girlfriend was the jealous type. After that, he'd left me alone.

I kicked his empty cup neatly between his feet. Hopefully he'd stumble on it when he went to stand up. Serve him right. At least the cola hadn't landed on Cassie's laptop, thank God.

I punched the call button, hoping to get some napkins, but then realized that all of the flight attendants were strapped down in their little jump seats. Well, hopefully we'd get above, or below, or past the turbulence before the sticky stuff had a chance to dry in my skirt.

Just then, the plane bounced again, this time with a funny little half-twist. That finally got Oily-Hair's attention. "What the fuck?" he yelped, looking around in a panic, and earning a glare from both me and the mom with two kids across the aisle. Another bounce, and a look at his face told me that chances were good that we'd soon have to worry about worse things coming out of his mouth than foul language. I snapped the laptop shut and rummaged in the seat pocket in front of me. Whipping out the airsick bag, I shook it open and handed it to him, then turned away to look out the window, trying my best to ignore the sound -- and smell -- as he threw up.

Great. It wasn't enough that the plane had been three hours late leaving Los Angeles, and that we'd run out of peanuts an hour into the flight. Nor was it enough that this had been the worst trip of my life, not to mention the worst week of my life. Oh, no. I obviously haven't suffered enough yet. I have to get seated next to Airsick Boy.

I plastered my face against the window, trying to hold my sleeve across my nose and mouth -- and the plane dropped about five feet straight down. About a third of the passengers in the packed cabin screamed; the rest swore. A child -- no, several children -- started to cry. I clutched the laptop to my chest; it had nearly slipped away. Oily-Hair moaned. I snuck a glance at him. He'd gone an interesting shade of green. Gingerly, I reached into the seat pocket in front of him and handed him that airsick bag as well. Then I went back to my intense survey of the night sky.

"Dammit, Cassie, why'd you have to subject me to this?" I murmured.

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So there's your taste. If anyone wants to be a beta reader, let me know, and I'll put you on the private list...

Only 47,500 words to go!