Beep Beeeeep. Klara honked the horn of her Audi TT sports car.
"God sakes Klara," I muttered under my breathe. Another beep. Followed by 3 more. I stick my head out the window and yell down to her, "Will you shut the heck up girl! Get up here anyway, I need a hand with my case."
Her head cocked to one side, confused. I was on the 11th story in my apartment block off 15 stories, she probably couldn't hear me.
I pulled out my phone and text her. Looking back out the window, I saw her make her way for the doors.
I turned around, inhaled and exhaled about several times. I always found it stressful, the days that led up to a holiday. I look at all three of my large suitcases, pull out my checklist from my back pocket and examined it.
"Sun cream, check," I said to myself. "Sun glasses, check. Money, check. Beach towel, check. Romance books, definite check" I smiled to myself. I never went anywhere without a romance book tucked under my arm of buried in my bag. And I mean nowhere, I even take one in my bag when I go grocery shopping. "Passport, check." I went down the rest of my list. I had everything. Excitement washed over me.
Just as I'd finished, Klara came tittering up the stairs and bounding through my door. "You're pain in the ass Snoop!" She chuckled, grabbing one of my bags.
Snoop was what she called me. We met in primary school, and it's fair to say that Klara was a bit nuts then. But I was immediately drawn to her radiating energy and high spirit, like a bee drawn to pollen. I introduced myself as Ellie, but she said she wanted to call me Snoop. I was a little taken back and confused, but I never asked why. I liked it, I always wanted to be given a nickname, and this random, bubbly girl who I had just met had given me one. Ever since then it's just stuck, and she only ever calls me Ellie when she's serious or we've fell out.
I'm about to grab the other two bags because I know Klara will moan about me having to make two trips when a strikingly attractive young man walks into my apartment, and gives me a sexy, crooked smile. He picks up both bags, analysing which is lightest, and takes the heaviest down.
I'm about to accuse him of stealing my bag when I realize Klara has probably just met him on the way up hear and coaxed him into helping her, because Klara had that kind of power over men. Her beautiful long blonde hair complimented her sun kissed skin and dark blue eyes perfectly, and her alluring figure is enough to drive any man crazy. But above all, it's her personality and confidence that shines through and attracts everyone towards her.
I smile slightly to myself, pick up my remaining case with my left hand and slump my hand luggage over my right shoulder. It's surprisingly heavy, but then again it does contain two very large romance novels for on the plane. I turn to take one last look at my apartment, close the door and lock it. No one will set foot in there for a whole month whilst me and Klara are in Paris. The thought seems very strange to me, but I dismiss it and head after the other two. Before I even turn the corner to the elevator I know Klara hasn't waited for and gone down with the good looking stranger. When I turn the corner, I roll my eyes and as suspected, she hasn't. I decided to take the stairs.
Once I reach the bottom step and I can hear Klara's girly laugh filling the air. I looked out the window and she's lying across her car in a suggestive way.
I snort and shake my head. This is typical Klara, she doesn't care what people think. She's probably the only person I know who could lean on a car in that manner with a guy she's only just met and probably doesn't even know his name. And she's the only person I know who could get away with it, because everyone loves Klara. It's hard not to love someone who takes life as it comes and has a manner about her that is just loveable.
It's strange to think me and Klara are so close, because we couldn't be more different, but they do say opposites attract. While she hasn't got a care in the world, I'm always worried I'm doing something wrong or worried I'm going to embarrass myself. And while she takes life as it comes, I always plan ahead, and hardly ever do something spontaneous. But the main thing that makes us so opposite is her ability to simply stick her middle finger up at someone who has pissed her off or upset her, and then just move on like it never happened, whereas I like to get revenge. And when I get revenge, I don't do it lightly.
I find myself thinking back to my last year in high school, this girl called Sally would always throw a volleyball at my face in gym. At first I thought she just had a poor aim, but then it happened every week, and the hits were getting harder and harder until she threw it hard enough to give me a nose bleed. She didn't apologize or offer to help me, she simply laughed and pointed at me with her friends.
So I plotted my revenge. Klara wanted to shout at her herself, and told me to be the better person and turn away. But I ignored her. That night we went into the woods and picked a few pieces of poison ivy and put them in a plastic bag, Klara moaning about how we were wasting our time a pathetic excuse of a girl and how her hair was going to frizz because of the humidity. The next morning I rubbed the poison ivy, making sure not to get it on my body, all over a can of her favourite drink, Red Grape Soda. I picked Klara up and we drove to school. I'd made sure to fashion a pair of gloves into my outfit that day, went over to Sally and smiled sweetly at her.
"No hard feelings, yeah? I know you did it by accident," I forced the lie out my gritted teeth.
She eyed me carefully and smiled, as if she had won. "Sure, no hard feelings." The girls behind her shrieked with laughter and looked at me like I was the dumbest person on the planet. They had no idea.
I looked at the can of Red Grape Soda and smiled. "Here take this, I don't like Red Grape Soda anyway," I said, handing her the soda. She arrogantly took and told me I can go now. I strutted back to Klara, who was trying her hardest not to laugh, chucked the glove in the bin and gave one last glance to Sally. She was looking at me like a piece of vermin.
The next day everyone was talking about how Sally came up in a rash all over her hands and lips. I couldn't help laughing. Sally never threw another volleyball at me again.
I caught myself smiling at this memory and shuck my head. I wandered out to the car where Klara had her lips pressed against the strangers.
"Get in the car," I said dryly. I opened the passenger's seat and hopped into her car.
A couple of minutes passed before Klara got into the car. I looked at her with my eye brows raised. She winked and gave me a cheeky smile, started the engine, and drove off, not even giving the guy a second glance.
"What was his name then?" I asked curiously.
She let out a ppft noise. "I don't know, I didn't ask," she said lazily.
"Klara, you were just making out with him," I cried.
"Well I had to thank him somehow," she said, shrugging her shoulders.
I put my head back an laughed. This was going to be one heck of a good month.
This year hadn't been good for me. My dad died from a battle with cancer after 5 years, leaving me with no parents as my mum died in a car crash when I was a baby. I was old enough that I didn't have to be put into a care home, but too young to have no authority figure in my life, as both set of grandparents had died and my aunty wanted nothing to do with me because I reminded her too much of my mother. So Klara's parents took me in and adopted me. They said I was already part of their family anyway, since the last few months of my dad's life I was there all the time, not wanting to go back to my apartment and be alone.
Then I got fired from my job as a fashion director because after my dad's death,I lost all my mojo, at least that's what my boss told me. So having no job and in these hard time's it was hard to find one, I nearly got evicted out my home. Luckily being part of the family now, Klara's parents took care of it and told me not to worry about rent until I could get firmly back on my feet. I felt bad but I had no choice, it was either that or live on the streets. I told them I'd find the money to pay them back someday.
Then I got my heart broken. A guy I'd been dating for a year
broke up with me, because I wouldn't have sex with him often
enough. He said after my dad had died and after I'd lost my job I
just became frigid.
Being a hopeless romantic, I thought our relationship was based on more than just sex, but thinking back, that's all the jackass was in it for.
There had been a whole lot of other little things to make it worse, but if it wasn't for Klara and her family I don't know where I would be. I spent Christmas with them, and they were so kind as to even buy me presents. I tried to scrap all the money I could to buy them something, but all I could afford was a few CD's, DVD's and books. Although I did save enough to buy Klara a 'best friends' photo frame, which she said was her favourite present. That's when Mr and Mrs Kingston gave me and Klara an envelope each.
"Go on," Mr Kingston ushered us. The pair were smiling like idiots at us.
As I opened the envelope, my stomach was doing summersaults. What could it be? I thought to myself. I pulled out a strip of card and looked at Klara, eyes glistening.
It was a ticket to Paris, to a 5-star luxury hotel. Klara and me looked at each other and screamed with joy. Mr and Mrs Kingston must have over herd our late night chats about how we dreamt of going to Paris for the summer.
"Halloo?" I snap out my daydream and look at Klara. She's looking at me with wide eyes and a smile on her face.
"Huh?" I asked, confused. I knew she'd laugh at me for day dreaming.
She did. "God, please don't do this all summer," she giggled. "I was saying, how many guys do you think I can pull?" She asked.
I just looked at her with admiration, I wished I could have her confidence. "I think you could pull every guy in Paris if you tired," I joked.
She let out her famous sing-song laugh and patted my arm. "You're so funny Snoop."
I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up on the dash board. For the rest of the journey she talked about her guy catching strategies and how she thinks I need to get my nose out my romance books and jump a few guys' bones while we're in Paris.
"Here we are!" Klara exclaimed as she pulled into the entrance to the airport and parked the car.
We jumped out the car. Klara waved to a couple of the assistants to come over, and we got our cases out the car. I counted. We had seven cases. Three were mine, four were Klara's.
"May we help you?" The worker said.
"Yes," Klara said demandingly. "How are we supposed to carry seven heavy suitcases?"
The next few minutes were a blur, but we ended up having 3 strong men assigned to help us. Klara's car was taken away to be looked after while we were away. Klara immediately worked her magic on the men, and ended up carrying nothing but Gucci hand luggage bag.
We got to check in desks and the men decided they liked us so much (well, Klara, I hadn't said much to them) they took us straight to the front. I heard a few people moan but I didn't think twice about it. I was too excited. Our bags were loaded onto the conveyor belt and taken away.
As Klara said goodbye to the 'hotties', as she called them, I decided to check in first.
"Hi there and welcome to International AirLines. May I see your boarding ticket please," a woman wearing way too much make-up said in a shrill voice that made me want to cover up my ears. I gave her my ticket.
A few minutes later, she gave me my passport and boarding ticket back. "Have a fabulous trip young lady." She said.
Oh, I will, I thought to myself.