The Flyers by Beth Turley

Author:Beth Turley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Published: 2021-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The Donut Hole

James was one of the three Spread Your Wings staff photographers we had met that morning, and Akshita told us he’d be tagging along for the rest of our activities. He wore a black baseball cap and said things like “work it” and “that’s the stuff,” which reminded me of Dad when he tried to be funny. Mom would laugh so hard she’d snort, and that would make all of us laugh all over again. My heart squeezed thinking about them, thinking about being where everything was familiar. I let the rest of the group get farther ahead of me and dialed my home number.

“It’s Elena,” Dad exclaimed when he answered. “Everyone, it’s Elena. She didn’t forget about us when she became famous.”

I smiled and pressed the phone into my cheek like that would bring me closer to them. The sound of Mom’s footsteps came through the receiver, followed by Edgar’s singing clownfish.

“Put her on speaker,” she said. “Tell us everything.”

A taxi honked its horn and I startled. The crossing sign on the other side of the street showed an orange hand. Stop. The rest of the Flyers were on the other side. Whitney turned and waved me over.

“Lenny? Are you all right?” Dad asked, his voice serious.

I felt split in half, one ear full of home and the other full of the sounds of the city. They clashed like I couldn’t be in both places at once.

“I’ll call you back,” I said. I put my phone in my pocket and hustled the rest of the way across the street, feeling farther from home and my family and Summer than I had since I’d arrived in New York. Whitney turned back again to smile at me, and the afternoon light was bright, and it didn’t feel so bad to be exactly where I was. The sun still shone when I was on my own.

We stopped at a gourmet donut shop called the Donut Hole two blocks away from the Spread Your Wings building. The name was painted on the window, and the Os were pink-frosted donuts. I knew it was a Flyers tradition to stop at the Donut Hole. Every September issue had a two-page spread of pictures of the Flyers with their hands wrapped around decorated donuts.

“Why do all the Flyers come here?” Harlow asked.

“Donuts are Akshita’s favorite,” James answered, then snapped a picture of me peering through a donut O to see the real donuts inside. “Fierce.”

When we were all inside, Mindy stayed at the door.

“I’m going to the gift shop next door for a new shirt before I melt in this hoodie. James, can you keep an eye on the minions?”

“You got it,” he answered.

The café was almost empty and smelled like berries and chocolate syrup. We took a table by the window. I sat in one of the inside chairs and pressed my shoulder into the sun-warmed glass, allowing the afternoon rays to thaw out the air-conditioning goose bumps across my skin.

“I’ll give you all some space,” James said.

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