Good. There’s only room for one person.
I walk in, move the door slot to lock, which makes the light flicker on. Then I take the wallet out of my pocket.
Inside is one dollar, and the license for Bing hand-drawn by Mouse. I take it out of the plastic sleeve Mouse made from a Baggie. Tucked in another slot is something else folded and folded again—a photo of our family. My father’s arm is around me and my mom. My mom’s arm is around Finn. My mom is very pregnant. She looks like she might tip over, her stomach is so big.
I’m in there. Mouse has written on the side with a big arrow directed at my mom’s tummy. On the back, she wrote: Thank you, Bing, for taking this picture when I couldn’t see on account of the skin.
I can’t stop staring at the photo. I’ve never seen it before. Mouse must have found it in the move.
My dad’s smile shines out of the picture, his eyes full of love for our family. He’s sure that we will stay this way forever. He doesn’t know that a few weeks or maybe days later he’ll be gone.
Mouse never knew him. She never felt my father’s love. She never saw us when we were complete. Is that why she made up Bing?
But the moment this photo was taken my daddy loved me with all his heart. He totally did.
This is my family. Nothing in the world is more important than that.
“India.” Mary Carol knocks on the door. “You’re over reg time for a bathroom visit.”
There’s a reg time for a bathroom visit? Jeez. “Just a minute,” I call, flushing the toilet.
I check to see what else is in the wallet. That’s when I find the tiny slip of paper written in a handwriting I don’t recognize.
India,
Sparky has your back.
Chuck
Sparky? That’s the Century Training dude who’s in dispatch, right? How’s he going to help me? I don’t even have a car.
“India.” Mary Carol bangs on the door.
How much time do I have?
My clock is ticking again. I can feel it. My hand presses up against the smooth clock face. I pull it out and steal a glance . . . four hours and twelve minutes left.
I can make another choice. It isn’t too late. I’m going to find Mouse and Finn. Get out of my way. I am totally doing this. I open the bathroom door.
I feel so sure and then an instant later I’m not sure again. How can I do this? I’m not smart enough to figure this out.
Wait, though. Step by step I can think it through.
I could try to get Mary Carol on my side. Chuck jeopardized his job to help us . . . would Mary Carol? She isn’t mean, and she likes me. But rules are so important to her. I don’t think she would break a rule for me.
We walk down the corrugated aluminum hall, going in the opposite direction from Passengers Waiting. I fall behind Mary Carol. She glances back at me, but I continue to walk, my head low, trying to adopt the most obedient posture I can muster.
I can do this. I can figure it out.
We get on another tram—the purple line. This one has a bunch of people in different Falling Bird uniforms. This tram seems more normal—but very lavendery, as if I’m in lavender land.
Mary Carol smiles at me. “You’ll be a good welcomer, India. Such a beautiful voice. I’m glad we have you back.”
I put on my good welcomer face, smile, and nod.
“Laird’s a bit on the temperamental side,” she confides in me. “You’ve got some apologizing to do. He’ll expect you to eat crow for a while.”
I nod, trying to appear engaged with Mary Carol as I figure out my plan.
Mary Carol will probably hand me off to Laird at the amphitheater. If I’m to escape, I will need to get away now or else wait until she drops me off. Waiting will take precious time, but it’s less risky. It’s wild in the amphitheater during a welcoming. With so many people going wild over the new arrival, it will be easier to slip away. Laird won’t watch me as closely as Mary Carol does. Mary Carol’s eyes are totally glued to me right now.
According to the laminated map on the wall, the ride to the checkpoint station is short. I have to get on the green line and then I could totally make it out there in time. But how will I find Finn and Mouse once I get to the checkpoint? And how will we find the black box? I don’t let myself think about this. First things first.
Mary Carol notices I’m studying the map. She seems pleased to see my interest and begins explaining the different routes. I’d like to ask how you get on the green line, but I can’t think of a reason a welcomer would need to know that.
It takes thirteen minutes to get to the amphitheater stop. Thirteen whole minutes. When the lavender tram slows and the glass doors slide open, I smile and wave at Mary Carol, hoping she’ll trust me to find my post on my own. Fat chance. Mary Carol is in lockstep with me, marching me to my station, where Laird is in high energy mode, his hands gesturing wildly as he gives the dos and don’ts to a new recruit.