Part Two: Chapter Three: A Girl Like Me

Lia was waiting outside, a huge smile on her face. Her black curls tumbled over her shoulders, shining against her black coat and striking a contrast with her bright blue hat. I had never seen her so alive. Her blue eyes shone as she hopped into the car. “Shotgun,” she said. “For once.” With three brothers older than her, she hardly every got the front seat.
She jabbered on about flying as I drove. I didn’t pay much attention; I had too much on my mind. “Hey, Lia?” I interrupted her. She stared at me - I never interrupted.
“Yeah?” she said.
“Have you heard of Tiffany Moore?”
“Yeah, who hasn’t?” she replied with a sidelong glance.
“What do you know about her?”
“Not much. Why?”
“Oh, just wondering.” She gave me a funny look, but accepted my answer. Silence fell over us, but for the humming of the engine and the rap pounding from the next car over. After a couple of minutes, Lia asked me,
“What do you think of that new kid, Ashton Johnson? I’ve seen you guys together a lot.” I was so surprised by her question that I jerked the wheel. “Whoa, watch out!” Heart hammering, I spun the wheel back and barely missed hitting a van. I glanced over to the driver to see him flipping me off.
“Sorry,” I mouthed. “Sorry,” I repeated, to Lia this time. She looked at me worriedly.
“You want me to drive?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
After about ten minutes of driving in silence, she raised her question again.
“So what do you think of him? You never answered me.” This time I was prepared for the question.
“He’s kinda cute.” I shrugged. She could tell I was hiding something.
“He likes you, you know,” she persisted.
“Nah,” I mumbled, my eyes fixed on the road ahead of me.
“Come on, Nicole. It’s obvious.”
“Whatever. He’s got so many cheerleaders after him, I don’t stand a chance. Why would a guy like him ever look at a girl like me?”
“But he doesn’t even notice them, he’s too busy looking at you!” she exclaimed, exasperated. She was actually starting to convince me.

* * *

As we pulled into the parking lot, I glanced around. “Do you know where you’re supposed to go?”
“My instructor, Josh, said he’d meet me out here, but I don’t see him,” she murmured quizzically. I saw a dark form in the distance, growing closer.
“Is that him?” I asked, pointing out my side window.
“Could be,” she said, squinting her eyes. She kicked open her car door, grabbing her black bag with one hand and pushing back her hair with the other. We both exited the car and approached the nearing figure. “That’s not him,” Lia said disbelievingly. “That’s not Josh.”
The figure slowed down twenty feet in front of us and finally stopped running when he reached us. It was a man I guessed to be about forty years old. He was only an inch or two taller than my five-foot-four. His close-cropped brown hair stuck up at odd angles. He seemed ill at ease, his beady black eyes darting back and forth between Lia and me. “Which one of you is Lia Brooks?” he inquired. His voice was high and squeaky.
“Me,” Lia said cautiously. Her voice turned upwards at the end of the word, as if it were a question.
“I- I’m Damion Corey,” the man stammered. “Your instructor unexpectedly got severely ill. He was going to call your test off, but he remembered how excited you were for it, so he asked me to do it for him.”
“Great!” Lia responded enthusiastically. “This is my friend, Nicole.” The man nodded to me and I to him.
Since I wasn’t allowed in the plane with them, Mr. Corey found a place where I would be able to watch before he and Lia hurried to the plane.
I saw Mr. Corey stand aside and watch as Lia walked around and through the plane, performing all the required pre-flight tasks. Finally, they boarded the plane. I saw them taxi down the runway. At the end of the paved strip, the nose of the plane tilted upward and Lia lifted off. The small white plane stood out against the azure sky as it turned from side to side at Lia’s command.
After a few minutes, I saw the plane vanish into a huge, white, puffy cloud.

* * *

Finally, Lia’s plane emerged from a cloud far away from the one she had entered. I saw her begin to descend, heading towards me. She was gliding smoothly and steadily down, navigating the air with ease. But then something changed. The plane jerked and wobbled. As it neared me, it began to tumble through the air, spinning and spinning. It smashed into the ground in the field ahead of me with a resounding *CRASH*.
I didn’t know what to do. I stood there in shock, and didn’t see any motion. It then came to me to call an ambulance, but I didn’t have my cell phone. With a backward glance, I dashed into the airport to find a pay phone. The airport was deserted.

By the time the ambulance arrived, I was making my way across the field to the crash location. I couldn’t get through the rubble to find Lia and Mr. Corey, but I didn’t hear anything or see anything.
The paramedics pushed me aside as they cleared the rubble formed when the plane crashed. Finally, one came out carrying a form covered in a white sheet. I ran over to the paramedic, who looked at me and bowed his head. He flipped over the corner of the sheet, and there laid Lia, her eyes closed.
I stared, at a loss for words. I set my teeth, trying to avoid tears - but it was no use. Tears rolled down my face as I gazed at Lia’s still form.
A different paramedic approached me. “Was she alone in the plane?” he inquired brusquely.
“No,” I said shakily. “There was someone named Damion Corey.”
“Did either of you know him?”
“No - he said he was taking over for her flight instructor, since he was sick.”
He turned and approached the rubble once more.
“There’s no one else in here,” a woman’s voice called out.
“Search every nook, every cranny,” commanded the man I had been talking to, who appeared to be the most experienced.
After several minutes, the man - Ralph Fredrickson, I learned his name was - returned to me and asked me more questions, delving deeper into Lia’s history and my knowledge of the mysterious Damion Corey.
As we talked, another paramedic approached Mr. Fredrickson and whispered something into his ear, a worried look on his face. Though it was meant for Mr. Fredrickson alone, I caught what he said. “This was no accident.”