The first thing that woke the Girl was heat.
Not sound.
Not turbulence.
Not the flight attendant’s voice.
Heat.
It struck her left shoulder in one sudden wet sheet and ran down the sleeve of her mustard-yellow hoodie before she understood what was happening.
She jerked awake.
The forest-green blanket slid from her knees.
A paper cup hit the floor beside the seat.
The Girl gasped.
Then screamed.
Several passengers turned immediately.
A businessman across the aisle closed his laptop.
A woman in the row behind pulled out one earbud.
Another passenger raised his phone before anyone had even spoken.
Standing beside Row 12 was the Wealthy Passenger.
Late forties.
Perfect cream cashmere wrap.
Designer shoes.
Gold bracelet.
Expensive luggage tucked neatly beneath the seat in front of her.
She looked down at the Girl as though the child had caused an inconvenience rather than received the contents of a hot drink across her clothing.
The Girl stared at her.
“What did you do?”
The Wealthy Passenger lifted the empty cup.
“Perhaps now you’ll remember that a cabin seat is not your private bedroom.”
The Girl looked down.
Tea darkened her hoodie from shoulder to elbow.
The blanket was soaked.
Her skin burned beneath the fabric.
“I was sleeping.”
“You were leaning.”
“I was against the window.”
“You kept moving.”
The Girl’s eyes filled.
Not because she wanted to cry.
Because pain had arrived faster than pride could stop it.
The Wealthy Passenger looked irritated by even that.
“Oh, don’t start.”
A voice came sharply from the aisle.
“Ma’am. Step back.”
The Senior Flight Attendant was already moving toward them.
She took one look at the wet child.
Then at the empty cup.
Then at the woman standing above her.
“What happened?”
The Wealthy Passenger answered immediately.
“She was sprawled all over the place.”
The Girl whispered:
“She poured it on me.”
The Flight Attendant’s face changed.
The Wealthy Passenger scoffed.
“I tipped a little tea because she refused to stay in her space.”
The businessman across the aisle said:
“You dumped the whole cup.”
The Wealthy Passenger turned.
“Nobody asked you.”
The Flight Attendant stepped between them.
“Please return to your seat.”
“I am in my seat.”
“Then sit down.”
The Wealthy Passenger frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit down.”
The authority in the Flight Attendant’s voice ended the argument.
For the moment.
The woman lowered herself into 12B.
The Flight Attendant crouched beside the Girl.
“Can you move your arm?”
The Girl nodded.
It hurt.
She tried anyway.
The Flight Attendant touched the wet sleeve carefully.
“Any severe pain?”
“Yes.”
“Anywhere else?”
“My shoulder.”
The Flight Attendant turned toward another crew member.
“Cold water.”
“First-aid kit.”
“Now.”
The second attendant hurried away.
The Girl looked toward the cockpit.
The reinforced door was far ahead.
Invisible from where she sat.
Her father was behind it.
She knew that.
He had personally walked her to Row 12 before boarding completed.
He had checked her seat belt twice.
Then once more.
She had rolled her eyes.
“Dad.”
He had smiled.
“Humor me.”
“I’m twelve.”
“That’s not the same as indestructible.”
She had hugged him.
Quickly.