DATE: July 11, 3035

LOCATION: San Fransisco, California

I wake up as the plane is landing, my face pressed against the window. I sit up, and almost immediately, my cheek feels sore from being in such a position for so long. I look over to my left and see Jackson had fallen asleep, too. I lay my hand on his shoulder and shake him until he wakes up.

"Hm.... What is it?" he asks groggily.

"The plane's landing," I answer, shuffling in my seat as I try to get comfortable again.

"Alright."

The plane shakes a little as it touches the ground. It rides down the runaway for a few minutes before coming to a stop, and we're allowed to leave our seats and grab our carry-on bags (or in mine and Jackson's case, our only bags). After we do, Jackson and I still have to wait for others to get their bags before anyone actually starts making their way towards the plane's exit. When we finally get off the plane, I smile wide, proud that I survived my first plane ride. It's the longest time I've ever been out in public since I was little. Of course, it helps that I don't have blonde hair anymore.

When Jackson and I walk out into the waiting area, there's a man standing a few yards away, holding a sign with Jackson's name and my alias. Jackson had called him while we were waiting for the plane and asked him to pick us up, to which he gladly obliged. The man looks aged, but not very old. He has light wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead, and slightly deeper wrinkles on his cheeks around the sides of his mouth, suggesting that he smiles frequently. His brown hair is so dark it's nearly black, but I can see a few specks of grey on his hairline. He's wearing a plain, white t-shirt, worn blue jeans, and work boots. He seems normal enough, and I make the decision to trust him, at least for now.

"I didn't tell him who you really were," Jackson whispers, "I didn't know if you would be okay with it."

I nod. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We approach the man, and Jackson introduces him to me as Sebastian Barnes. I shake his hand, and he gives me a pleasant, heartwarming smile. "It's nice to meet you, Elizabeth," he says.

"The same goes for you, Mr. Barnes," I reply.

"Oh, please," he starts, crinkling his nose, "We're all friends here. Call me Sebastian."

"Okay then, Sebastian," I smile.

Sebastian leads us out to his car, which is the complete opposite of what I was expecting, judging by his outward appearance. His car is a sleek, black Mustang convertible, so shiny and clean it looks brand new. The top is down, and the seats are a matching black leather. Jackson rides shotgun, and I seat myself in the back, while Sebastian loads our two bags into the trunk of the car. After doing so, he climbs into the driver's seat, puts the key into the ignition, turns it, and the engine roars to life.

We ride in the car for about 45 minutes tops, and Sebastian parks the car in front of what looks to be an apartment building, with a sign overhead reading: Barnes' Makeup Artistry.

Jackson, Sebastian and I get out of the car and Sebastian unloads the trunk. He unlocks the door to the building and leads us inside. Materials and tools for different kinds of makeup techniques line vanities and shelves. I gaze around the room in awe at everything Sebastian owns. Even before my mother died, we barely even had enough food to last us a week, let alone a full-functioning, multi-story building to live in.

"This is just my studio," Sebastian tells me, "I live in the second and third floors."

The second floor has a kitchen and living room. The kitchen has everything that should be in a kitchen, and nothing that shouldn't; a refrigerator, a microwave, an oven, a sink, storage, and a dining table and chairs off to the side. The living room contains a few couches, a recliner, a shelf lined with books, and a large, flat-screen television.

"Woah," I breathe, "I've never seen anything like this."

Jackson nudges my arm with his elbow. "If you think this is something, you should see the bedrooms."

Sebastian takes us to the third floor, complete with four bedrooms, each with their own private bathroom. Sebastian points out the door to his room, and lets me know that no matter what time of night, if I need him, I can come and get him, and shouldn't worry about disturbing him. Jackson also shows me where his room is, and says that I can sleep in the room across the hall.

I open the door to the bedroom, and am taken aback by the sight before me. The room is huge. There is a large, queen-sized bed in the corner covered in an ivory-colored comforter and sheets. An oak shelf takes up the entire wall opposite the bed, and it's covered with books of every genre and every author from William Shakespeare to John Green. There's a huge window with a beautiful view facing me. The walls are a soft, light green, and the carpet is only a slightly darker shade. The carpet looks extremely soft, and it takes everything in me to keep myself from reaching down and feeling it to see if I'm correct. I direct my eyes toward the ceiling, which is painted a navy blue, and a confused expression overcomes my face.

"Studies have shown painting the ceiling of a bedroom blue helps to calm a person and they get a better night's sleep," Jackson informs me, "Which is why Sebastian paints the ceiling of every bedroom some shade of blue."

"I see."

Sebastian walks up to us, a smile on his face. "So, Jackson, Elizabeth, what brings you to my humble abode?"

"Well, Sebastian, you'll be pleased to hear that I've found Lacey Bennett," Jackson answers.

"Then where is she?" Sebastian queries.

Jackson turns to me, an unreadable expression on his face. I think it's panic, or possibly nervousness. I take it as a sign that he's not a good liar, and needs help with a cover story for my whereabouts.

"She's in good hands, don't worry," I jump in, "She's with a friend of mine, who's also against the government. I'm here to help Jackson form a complete plan and put it to action." Technically, this isn't a lie. I was in good hands, and I did consider Jackson a friend.

"And what do I have to do with this plan of yours?" Sebastian asks, and I hope it's the last question in his seemingly endless interrogation.

"First of all," Jackson begins, "We need you to provide us with shelter-"

"Understood," Sebastian interrupts.

"Second of all," Jackson continues, ignoring Sebastian's interruption, "We need you to help us fake Lacey's death."

"How would I do that?"

"You have the tools and skills," I explain, "You can use special effects makeup to make it appear as if I bled to death."

"Elizabeth is standing in for Lacey," Jackson states quickly, so as not to confuse Sebastian.

Sebastian nods. "And I suppose you'll want to use a blonde wig."

"You would be correct," I say.

"When do we start?" Sebastian questions.

"I was thinking we should start as soon as Elizabeth and I figure out where to go from there," Jackson answers him.

"Sounds like a plan," Sebastian agrees, and we all retreat to the comfort of our rooms to relax before diving into planning tomorrow.

It's about noon, but jet lag has caused me to already feel drowsy. I lay down on the bed, and find that it's the softest, most comfortable thing I've ever touched. If people could sleep on clouds, this is exactly what it would feel like, I'm sure. I close my eyes, letting out a deep, relaxed sigh, and in less than a minute, I doze off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

When I open my eyes again, I know I've been sleeping for a few hours, because I can see through the window that the sun is already starting to set over the horizon. I make my way out into the hallway and eventually down the stairs. Jackson is the first to greet me as I descend the stairs into the living room.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he smirks, softly chuckling at his own unoriginal remark.

"Ha ha. Very funny," I deadpan, sending him a glare, "Now do you mind telling me what time it is, oh witty one?"

"Five thirty-six," he says, looking at his watch.

"Thank you."

"Anyone up for dinner?" Sebastian asks, entering the living room from the kitchen. Jackson and I both nod in response. "Good. The lasagna will be ready in about ten minutes," he tells us, before disappearing back into the kitchen.

My eyes widen. "We're having lasagna?" I question Jackson, shocked.

"Yeah," he replies, "What's wrong with lasagna?"

"Nothing, I've just never had it."

Jackson takes a step back. "Hang on," he starts, "You've never had lasagna?"

I shake my head. "No."

"You have to be kidding me!"

"No," I repeat.

"Sebastian!" Jackson calls into the kitchen, "Make sure the lasagna tonight is your best! It's Elizabeth's first!"

"On it!" Sebastian calls back. I smile.

Jackson turns back to me. "Okay, Elizabeth just takes too long to say. Got any ideas for a nickname?"

I think about it for a second. There are only two prominent nicknames I know for Elizabeth: Liz and Beth. I don't exactly like Liz. I'm not sure why, I just don't think it fits right. Beth, on the other hand, I can live with.

"How's Beth sound?" I query.

"Sounds good to me," Jackson shrugs, "Beth."

^^^^^^^^^^

I realized I have not updated ANYTHING in a seriously long time, so.... Here's chapter three! You can all thank my friend Katie (the-writer-next-door) for that; in gym class today she told me she had read it and asked when/if I was going to update. That's why this chapter is dedicated to her. So, everybody give a big thanks to Katie! Love ya, my wonderful, amazing, faithful readers!

~Tiffani

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