In a Holidaze by Christina Lauren

chapter seven

“AHHHHHHHH!” I wake up shouting loudly, startling from the sensation of falling down a steep flight of stairs. My arm shoots out to the side to catch the banister. But there’s no banister there, no stairs. I smack my brother directly in the face again.

He lets out a rough oof and catches my arm. “Dude. What the hell, Mae?”

Bolting upright, I’m already sweating. I reach for my neck. Do I look like a corkscrew? Is my head on the right way? Can I see my own butt? I slump with relief until I notice the same white-noise hum of an engine, the same dry, recirculated air. The same everything.

“No,” I whisper, heart pounding. Not again.