Flight #116 Is Down by Caroline B. Cooney

Author:Caroline B. Cooney [Cooney, Caroline B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-4532-9537-3
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2012-12-05T21:34:00+00:00

Nine

SATURDAY: 7:01 P.M.

Flight #116 was really quite late, but people accustomed to meeting planes didn’t get worked up about it. So what else was new?

They heaved large sighs every time they looked up at the arrival-time screen, as if hoping airline personnel would be humiliated by all this sighing and quickly land the plane.

It was not a strategy that worked.

Teddie’s parents were laughing. They had walked back to one of the wall pay phones and called Gramma and Poppy. The details of Teddie’s departure had delighted them.

“I can’t wait to see that quarter taped to her palm,” said Teddie’s mother. “Let’s get her hand on the camcorder. Our daughter’s first solo air flight, complete with Mickey Mouse Band-Aid assist.”

“I wish there was a place where I could film the plane actually landing,” said Teddie’s father, circling a row of chairs for at least the hundredth time. He had enjoyed the two weeks alone with his wife while Teddie visited her grandparents. Yet it had been a long two weeks. Maybe next year they would make it one week. When you had only one child, you needed all the child time you could get.

Come on, plane, he thought irritably, get a move on.

Near them, a child bounced around, zinging with sugar energy. The parents had so far kept him patient by letting him drink all the soda and eat all the candy bars he wanted. “I haven’t seen Aunt Louise in a whole year,” said the little boy excitedly. “Do you think she brought me a present?”

“I’m sure she did, dear. Aunt Louise always brings the best presents. But don’t ask Aunt Louise, because that would be rude. Wait until Aunt Louise gives it to you.”

“Aunt Louise doesn’t mind if I’m rude,” said the little boy. “Aunt Louise likes me.”

People close by hid smiles. They had either been an Aunt Louise themselves or had one.

Shirley Foyle phoned her parents. “The plane’s late. Wouldn’t you know? I’m a wreck.”

“Now, honey. We told you we’d get Carly.”

“I have to be the one. We have to start over again. I have to be here when she lands.”

Shirl had done her hair for the occasion; as if Carly had ever cared how her sister’s hair looked. Carly, who had been the type a year ago to shave her head and tattoo her skull.

“Chin up, darling,” said her parents. “We’ll see you both in a few hours.”

Shirl hung up, savoring their voices. She pictured the homecoming. Carly and I, Shirl thought; we’ll come in the front door, and Mom and Dad will—no; they’ll be out on the lawn, yanking the taxi door open. They won’t wait for us to come up the steps and cross the porch. Not when both their daughters are coming home together.

Carly. Coming home.

Shirl had not known how much she would miss her sister. The bathroom jostling, the giggles, the shared clothes, even the fights. Nobody could be as thoroughly satisfying or as thoroughly obnoxious as your only sister.

My sister. Coming home.

Saturday: 7:09 P.

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