Amenia felt herself being sucked back into the living, a warm sensation crawled up her body and then she was in the void, falling and falling, her stomach in her mouth. And then she was Rachel, jerking awake.

Paper was stuck to Rachel’s cheek and she pulled it off, a stinging feeling aching in her cheek since it was plastered to her skin with her sweat. Amenia commanded Rachel’s jade eyes to look in front of her where a professor was drawling lazily, the slide behind him flicking to a picture of Egypt. Rachel’s body squirmed as Amenia’s homesickness got the best of her. Amenia brought up a hand and pinched the skin under her elbow, snapping herself out of a reverie of gold and Pharaohs and sand. She glanced down at her watch and knew that she had to leave now if she wanted to get anywhere.

She stood up and started walking down the aisle when the professor cleared his throat and said condescendingly, “Rachel, is there a problem?”

Amenia halted and looked up at the ceiling, begging the Gods for a good lie. As if it worked, she replied easily over her shoulder, “I’m not feeling too good.”

Without waiting for a reply, Amenia left the room. Now, the question was if she should drive Rachel’s crappy car for seven hours or spend two hundred dollars on a plane ticket. Amenia left the building and sought for Rachel’s car, but instead she only found other such crappy cars with obnoxious colors and annoying decals. Then her eyes glossed over an infuriatingly familiar orange bike at the bike rack.

_Curse my luck._

Two hours later and many horrible, _horrible_ adventures, Amenia landed in Atlanta, Georgia. Opening Rachel’s phone, Amenia searched for Susan’s contact and couldn’t find it…because Rachel deleted it _again_. Sighing through her nose, Amenia decided that she would wait around the airport for a little bit.