She continues to stare out the window, hands pressed tightly between her thighs. ‘Get lost.’
Even through her make up I can see she’s super pale. Her ponytail’s so tight it looks like she’s taken skincare advice from my TíaElisa. She still smells great, though. Not like her normal perfume – different, more subtle, like fabric softener. Fresh and soft and?—
‘Stop sniffing me. I’m not a candle.’
I reel back, swallowing an apology just in time. I’m not apologising to this pouting woman. The only person allowed to sulk here is me. I’m the one who got slapped – in the god damn Miami Team Village! She could at least act professional. Is this how she usually treats her business partners?
‘Hey,’ I say, quieter, so my brother can’t hear. ‘Did you tell those marketing guys to email JC?’
She doesn’t answer immediately. Is she… Is she shivering? The AC’s not even high.
‘I had to,’ she finally says. It feels forced, like she has to put real effort in to form words. ‘I’m not your… manager. And how were you going to explain why you’re suddenly… in their campaign?’
The plane starts moving and she jolts. Her hand lands on my arm and clutches tight. Her touch sears through my skin. My other hand moves to cover it – on instinct – but she snatches it back too soon.
What was that?
My brain’s scrambled. When I look back at Jules, she’s squeezing her eyes shut and 100% looking like she doesn’t want to unpack the last fifteen seconds.
‘What are you, like, scared of flying or something?’ I ask, half joking, but when she doesn’t respond, any amusement evaporates. ‘Oh my god, you’re scared of flying. What? But you’ve made travelling yourjob. That’s like me being scared of G forces.’
‘Yes, I’m a bad flyer. Happy? Now will you shut up?’ She finally meets my gaze and her eyes are terrifying. Big and crazed and wired, like she’s OD’d.
Nyla’s not concentrating on Isa going through our siblings. She wordlessly slides a white Ambien bottle across the table. Jules shakes her head and Nyla tucks it back in her bag.
‘Do you need something? Water?’ I ask gently.
‘Go away.’
That’s the first and last time I try to be nice to her.
‘—who’s still at school. We call himel niñobecause he’s the baby, even though he’s the tallest,’ Isa finishes.
‘Second tallest!’ JC calls from the far side of the plane. He wishes.
‘Let’s get the vibes going!’ Trey says, connecting his phone to the speakers.
Reggaeton fills the jet as we reach the runway, but I can still make out Jules’ raggedy breathing over it. She’s sitting like a rigid block. When we start picking up speed, she buries her face inside her sweater, hands covering it through the fabric.
Her humanity sneaks right underneath my guard. For a while there I thought she hailed fromTerminator. I want to help her but everything I do seems to make it worse. I carefully lean over her and close the window. It’s not much but maybe forgetting she’s in the air will be a comfort.
‘Jules, breathe from your diaphragm, not your chest,’ Trey instructs, craning over the aisle. She doesn’t respond. ‘Breathe in for four seconds, focusing on your abdomen expanding. Hold for two, out for six. It keeps your blood oxygen high and calms your parasympathetic nervous system. We’ll do it together. In…’
Isa looks astonished Trey knows something about performance coaching. Ye of little faith. I watch Jules’ hands undulate with the movement of her chest. It seems to be working; her breathing sounds like it’s evening out. It bothers me more than it should that she listened to Trey and not me.
When Jules eventually releases her face, she looks like she’s been awake for weeks.
‘Do you want an orange juice?’ Nyla asks.
A small nod.
Isa leaps to her feet. ‘I’ll get it!’
‘I still can’t believe you have eleven siblings,’ Nyla says when she returns.
‘It’s loud, that’s for sure.’ Isa smiles as she places the juice into Jules’ trembling hands. ‘What about you, Jules? Any siblings?’
‘No.’ It’s an octave too low.
