Takeoffs and Landings(33)

Gram and Pop can’t see through me like Mom does. Gram and Pop think I’m a good kid. I can fool them.

Lori pushed such thoughts aside. She was a good kid. She’d just forget everything that happened in Phoenix, and everything else Mom had said. Lori didn’t owe Chuck anything. As far as Lori was concerned, once she was home again, she didn’t care what happened to Chuck. Or Mom. It’d be just fine with Lori if Mom went back out on the road forever, flipping and flapping from coast to coast, traveling as much as that guy they’d read about in English. The Ancient Mariner. Did he ever go home?

Home, Lori thought longingly. Oh, if only the plane were taking off, instead of landing.

And then, strangely, just as she thought that, the plane jerked up, its nose pointed back toward the sky.





Chuck was not wearing his airsickness bracelets.

Were you trying to make me look different? he wanted to ask Mom. Normal guys didn’t wear bracelets. They didn’t have to.

I hate my life, Chuck thought. I hate myself.

His braceletless wrist twitched against the airplane seat, and he realized he’d begun to trace a design on the weave of the fabric.

Stop that, he commanded himself. He wasn’t allowed to draw, ever again.

Suddenly the plane practically hopped in the air, turning strangely.

Maybe it’s going to crash, Chuck thought, almost hopefully. He hoped Lori and Mom got out safely. And the other people. He didn’t want anyone to die.

Except himself.





The plane’s P.A. system crackled.

“The control tower has informed us we need to circle the airport another time before landing,” the pilot said. “Due to the weather system coming in, they’ve closed a runway and the jets are stacking up.”

The clouds outside the window were ominous and gray. Lori had flown—what? five times now?—and she’d never thought before about any of her planes crashing. Why not? Had she thought no plane would dare crash with Lori Lawson on board?

Lori groaned silently. She was worried now. It was just too weird, the way the plane was jerking around. Like the plane was fighting the wind, and losing.

“We’ll likely be experiencing some turbulence during the landing,” the pilot continued. “Please obey the ‘fasten seat belts’ sign.”

Lori looked over at Mom.

“Is this safe?” she asked.

“They wouldn’t land if it weren’t,” Mom said. “Don’t worry. I’ve landed in lots worse weather. Think of it as, I don’t know, a wild roller coaster ride.”

But roller-coaster cars were on wheels, strapped to rails, held up by crisscrosses of solid steel bars hammered into the ground. This plane was in the middle of the sky. Nothing was holding it up.

Nothing. Not steel, not wheels, not God. Just—what was it that kept planes up, anyway? Air?

“Flight attendants, prepare for landing,” the pilot said tensely.

Lori had to have something solid to hang on to. She clutched the armrests.

“Would they tell us?” she asked Mom. “If the plane was going to crash, would they let us know?”

Mom’s eyes were on the telephone built into the seat in front of her.

“No,” she admitted. “Probably not. But we’re not going to crash.”

Lori wanted to ask if Mom was just considering calling the convention organizers, to let them know that her flight was delayed. Or did she want to call home to talk to Gram and the other kids one last time?

If the plane was going to crash, Lori wondered, would Mom tell us?

No. Probably not.

The plane began to shake violently. The noise was terrible. Lori thought about tornadoes, hurricanes, typhoons. The plane dived into darker clouds. Rain lashed against the window.

Oh, no . . . , Lori thought, and it was like something that Mom said in just about all her speeches. Mom hid it with jokes and wordplay, but really all she ever talked about was dying—dying without thinking, Oh no, I always meant to . . .

God? Lori whispered silently. I have way too many “Oh no”s to die now.

Probably everyone on the plane felt that way.

Probably Daddy had felt that way, too, eight years ago. He probably wanted to live long enough to see Emma born. He probably wanted to see all his kids grow up. He probably wanted to farm for another fifty years. He probably wanted to be able to retire someday and travel around the country with Mom.

And Mom—

Lori turned toward her mother. If the plane was going to crash, the very least she could do was say something to Mom. Something real. Something she meant, not something hidden in sarcasm or nastiness or fake charm. And then probably she should apologize to Chuck. Lori had about eight years’ worth of apologies to make to both of them, Mom and Chuck, before the plane hit the ground.