“I’m totally in,” Kendall said.
“Me too.” Hunter looked up toward the house and rubbed his belly. “Can we eat now?”
Papaw grinned. “What makes you think there’s any food left?”
“Mamaw cooked, right?” I tossed my sign to the ground. “There should be enough for the whole town.”
Papaw reached out and messed up my hair.
“You got that right. Now get in there and fill yourselves up. Then we’ll plan your Run from Reality.”
CHAPTER 8
Separation Anxiety
Three weeks later, after we had done all the duck chores we could stand, our whole family came to see us off at the Monroe Regional Airport.
“Ray, I can’t believe I let you talk me into sending my baby off alone on an airplane.” Mom shook her head and hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe.
“Look around,” Papaw gestured to all five of us. “They have each other. I arranged a guide to meet ’em in Dallas if they need help. And when they get to the end, Ryan and Brittany will be there to pick ’em up. And those two are the most responsible individuals on the planet.”
I tried to pull away from Mom. “We’ll be fine. We have three hours to find the gate, and we’ll be inside the terminal. What could happen?”
“We’re Carroways,” Kendall said. “Anything could happen. That’s what makes it fun.”
Mom shook her head. “I don’t know . . .”
“Maggie,” Dad said, “the airline knows they’re comin.’ The Dallas airport has good signage. They can read. We gotta let ’em go sometime.”
“Passengers of flight 1145 going to Dallas-Fort Worth, please proceed to security check-in if you have not already done so.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening.
We all grabbed our carry-on backpacks and turned toward the security line, but Papaw stopped us.
“Hold up, rascals. We need to make a trade.” He reached into his camo bag and pulled out what looked like phones.
“What are those?” Hunter asked. “They look exciting.”
“These are called burner phones. I have one for each of you to use only for this trip. I’ve programmed in every family member’s phone number, and you all have access to calling and texting.”
“Let me see that,” Kendall said, and she grabbed one of the phones and flipped it open. “Where are all the apps?”
“No apps,” Papaw said. “And no cameras.”
I think all our mouths dropped open at once.
“Why do y’all look like a bunch of frogs waitin’ for flies? We have a deal, right? These phones will help keep you honest.” Papaw held out his open bag. “Okay, let’s have your phones.”
It was a painful exchange. Our cool phones with the personalized covers and carefully chosen wallpaper and apps for black nerdy flip phones that did nothing but call 9–1–1 and our parents. Nice.
“All passengers of flight 1145 for Dallas-Fort Worth, proceed to the security line if you have not already done so.”
Mom hugged me again, tighter. Dad shook his head and pried her away from me.
She knelt and looked me in the eyes.
“Be smart. Don’t talk to strangers. Call me as many times as you want. Call me when you get to Dallas.”
“Oh, brother.” Dad shook his head. He pulled me away from Mom and gave me a hug. “Have a good time bein’ anonymous. Y’all take care of each other.”
I smiled. “We will. We’re Carroways.”
The other cousins’ parents were having a hard time pulling away too.
“Enough with the clingin’,” Papaw Ray said. “Let ’em experience life in the real world.”
Then he shooed us off, and we found ourselves in the security line alone—just us kids. Well, and a bunch of other people too.
A light flashed in my peripheral vision. Someone taking a photo. I rolled my eyes and leaned over to talk to Kendall.
“As soon as I get to California, my hair is going up in a hat, and I will no longer respond to the name Allie Carroway.”
“I feel ya, girl. I brought five pairs of sunglasses, a bunch of scarves, and some hair color. I’m going red for a week.”
“Red? Like Ruby?” I pointed to Ruby’s harvest-orange colored hair.
“Nah. Red like an apple!”
“Do you think Ryan and Brittany will go for that?” I tried to imagine for a second what I would look like as a platinum blonde.
“I’m not gonna ask ’em,” Kendall said. “It’s just a temporary color wash. It’ll be gone in a week.”
Lola leaned in to join the conversation.
“My pink streak is changing to a turquoise streak in the morning. To match the color of the Pacific Ocean.”
I turned to Hunter. “And how are you going to alter your appearance? Get yourself a mohawk?”
Hunter laughed. “Nope. I’m just gonna stay me. But I’m gonna be fast. Just fly in and out of places. Like a flash of light. No one will be able to focus on my face long enough to identify it.”
“I won’t have to do a thing except change out of denim. People will be confused by that.” Ruby doesn’t own anything that isn’t jeans. She even has jeans pajamas.
“Excuse me.” A business man behind us held his hand toward the young female TSA agent who was now staring at our group. “You’re holding up the line.”
“Oops. Sorry.” I moved forward, handing the agent my boarding pass and passport.
“I don’t have a driver’s license, so I hope this works.”
“You’re fine, Allie,” the TSA agent said. She scanned my boarding pass. “You can leave your shoes on. Enjoy your flight. And by the way, I love your show.” She smiled and handed back my papers.
“Oh . . . uh . . . okay. Thank you, ma’am.” I smiled and stepped forward to the scanning area. I heaved my giant backpack into a gray bin and pushed it onto the conveyor belt.
“Walk through the arch, please,” a dark-haired middle-aged man in a suit said. He looked like he might be everyone’s boss. “You can wait for your baggage over there.” He pointed to the end of the conveyor that was just past some officials holding scanning wands.
Just about then, my backpack beeped.
“We’ve got a knife over here, Rod.” A girl sitting near a computer called the boss-guy over.
“Did you bring a knife with you?” he asked me.
“What? No! I . . . Oh, wait a minute, maybe I did. But it’s just a little pink camo folding one my dad gave me. I forgot it was in there. He-he. Sorry.”
The girl held it up. “This can’t go. You can return to the check-in desk and have it added to your luggage, or you can surrender it.”
“Um, I’ll just surrender it. I have a few more of those at home for, um . . . gutting fish and other gross stuff you wouldn’t believe.”
The lady laughed.
“Yeah, I would. I watch the show. I’m sorry I have to take it from you, but rules are rules.”
“It’s okay. If you have a daughter, you can give it to her and tell her it’s from Allie Carroway.”
She nodded and grinned. “I do, and I will. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
“Move along, felon.” Kendall pushed me in the back. “I can’t believe you brought a knife! Man, if only I could have taken a photo of that to put on social media. Allie Carroway brings a knife on a plane. You got any other surprises you’d like to tell me about?”
“None that I know of.”
“Good. We’re trying to stay anonymous, remember?”
“I’ll try harder.”
But it got harder in Dallas.
CHAPTER 9
Layover Lunch Bag
The flight to the Dallas-Fort Worth airport was peaceful, but crunched. We sat in the very back row of the airplane—in the seats that don’t recline because the bathroom is right behind you.
“I guess Papaw wanted us to travel like ‘normal’ people,” Lola said.
Usually
when our family flies, we go in a jet that the network owns, or we get first class seats. Once we had to fly coach, but we were in the “roomier legroom” seats. The seats in this plane had no legroom, and no back room! Just bathroom. And since most of the people in the plane were from our town, they made a point to say hello on their way to do their business. I started to wonder if they really had to go, or if they just wanted to see the Carroway cousins shoved like sardines in the back of a plane.
“Fresh air!” Hunter held up his arms and turned in a circle as we deplaned in Dallas. “I smell burgers!”
I pulled my boarding pass out of my backpack to look at the time of our next flight.
“We have to get to terminal B, gate 57 by three forty-five. That’s three hours from now. I say, let’s eat.”
“There’s a McDonalds.” Ruby pointed toward the golden arches, and Kendall scrunched up her nose.
“McDonald’s? Can’t we find somethin’ more refined? Or somethin’ that reflects the Texas culture?”
“Let’s check the directory.” Ruby ran up to the lighted sign in the middle of the walkway. She pushed her finger on the glass. “They have Taco Bell, Starbucks, Subway . . . Hmmm. All the stuff we have at home.”
“How about this?” Lola pointed to one a few lines down. “Cowboy Chow Down. It’s in Terminal C.”
“Sounds great to me,” Hunter said.
“But, people, it’s in terminal C. We’re in terminal A now, and we have to get to terminal B for our flight.”
“But I really want to chow down, Allie!” Hunter said.
The aroma of McDonald’s fries was about to drop me to the floor. I didn’t know if I had the energy to find terminal C until I downed some salt and fat.
“Okay, let me get some fries, and then we can make the journey to the chow place.”
“I want some food too,” Ruby said. “I’ll go with you, Allie.”
“And we’ll just wait here and maybe check out the gift shop.” Kendall plopped her stuff on a bench that was across from a large TV that was showing the Dallas Cowboys game.
“Can you get me a couple of cookies?” Hunter asked. “I’d like to start my chow down early.”
“Whatever you want,” I said.
Ruby and I hoisted our backpacks on our backs and jostled our way into the line for McDonalds. The weight of my pack tilted me forward, and I stepped on the back of a teenaged boy’s canvas surf shoe, giving him a flat.
“Dude!” He reached down to grab his ankle.
When he turned to look back at me, my face flushed. He was a cutie. A little taller than me, strong shoulders, smooth sandy blonde hair, and a tan face, except for a little sunburn peel on his nose.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “My backpack made me do it.”
He smiled with some extra-white teeth. Then he reached down and pulled the back of the shoe up. “It’s cool.”
Ruby giggled a little, and I jammed my elbow in her side.
“Your face and neck are red,” she whispered.
I reached up to touch my cheeks with my cold, clammy hands, and I waited behind the boy with the faded blue T-shirt that said Surf & Son Summer on it. He also wore tan cargo shorts, and no socks with those surf shoes. The heather gray backpack he carried in his hand almost matched mine.
The McDonald’s line moved forward, and I watched my step this time.
Maybe he’ll turn around again. No, wait a minute. I don’t want him to turn around again.
Ruby interrupted my conflicting thoughts.
“Allie, I have to go to the bathroom. Can you order me a hamburger Happy Meal?”
I kept staring at the boy’s back.
“Allie?” Ruby nudged me.
“What? Did you say something?”
Ruby pushed money into my hand.
“I gotta go. Hamburger Happy Meal, fries, and a Coke. Any toy will be fine.”
Then she giggled and took off.
“Take Kendall or Lola with you!” I shook my head. That girl could get lost in her own house. What would I tell Aunt Janie if I lost Ruby?
“Are you having a good trip so far?”
The voice sounded far off, but I soon realized it was right next to me. Mystery Boy had turned around and was looking at me with his rich, azure blue eyes.
I cleared my throat.
“Yes. So far. I mean, it’s just the beginning . . .”
He kept looking.
“That’s cool. Mine’s just ending. I’ve got one more flight . . .”
“Next guest, please.”
How rude for that McDonald’s employee to interrupt such an important conversation!
“Oops. Gotta go.” Blue Eyes stepped to the counter, and I strained to hear what he would order off the menu.
“Uh, let’s see, I’m pretty hungry, so I’ll have two Quarter Pounders with cheese, a large fry, three cookies . . . no wait a minute, make that one Quarter Pounder, and an order of chicken nuggets. I’ll take a medium Coke too, and cookies. Yeah, three cookies.”
The employee poked his computer and then looked up.
“You said three cookies twice. So, do you want six cookies total, or just the three?”
Surfer Dude began digging in his pockets.
“Wow—I really said it twice? Well, I guess that means I’m meant to have six then.”
He continued to dig, and he finally pulled out a brown leather wallet.
“That’ll be $15.69,” the employee said.
Surfer Guy held up a card. “Cool. I’ve been waiting to use this baby.”
He swiped the McDonald’s gift card and waited.
After a few seconds, the employee shook his head.
“It’s not going through. Try swiping it again.”
My stomach did a little dance while he swiped and waited.
“It’s not working,” the employee said. “Would you like to use an alternate form of payment?”
“Oh, no, that’s a bummer. Hang on, let me see what I have left of my cash.”
He dug in a few more cargo pockets, and managed to pull out some bills and a handful of change. He dumped it all out on the counter, and the employee shook his head as he began straightening out the bills and sorting out the coins.
“That’s $12.40.” He gathered the money, placed it in his cash drawer, and poked some more buttons. “You’re $3.29 short. Would you like to eliminate one of your items?”
Before I could even think—I stepped forward, held out the five-dollar bill that was in my hand, and gave it to the cashier.
“Here. You can add this.”
Surfer Boy held out both hands to try to stop the transaction, but the McDonald’s employee was fast, and before we knew it, my new blue-eyed, surfer friend was getting change back.
“Dude, you didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s okay, I had extra. Plus, you’re a big guy, so you need the food.”
What a dumb thing to say! Now he’s going to think I noticed his muscles. Ugh!
“Well, that was a very nice thing to do.”
“Next guest, please.”
Another employee, a young woman with big blonde hair and a lot of eyeliner, smiled at me from behind her computer. I stepped forward, while keeping the Dude Guy—who was waiting for his order—in my peripheral vision.
“What can I get you today, darlin’?”
“I’ll take a large order of fries, please.”
“You wanna drink with that, honey?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay, sugar, that’ll be $2.49.”
I reached in my pocket and pulled out three singles. I handed them to her, and she gave me change and a receipt with my order number on it. Then she leaned forward to talk to me.
“Maybe dreamy-boy over there will share some of his cookies with ya.” Then she winked, and I’m sure I turned beet red.
I tried to cool my face with my freezing hands. All the blood must have rushed to my heart to keep it from stopping.
“Was
there somethin’ else you wanted, sweetie?”
“Um, no. Thanks. I’ll . . . just . . . wait . . . there.”
I pointed to the side a few feet over.
She nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
I stepped aside, a foot away from the boy I just gave money to without his permission.
Try not to embarrass yourself further, Allie.
“One forty-six!”
That was the boy’s number. He stepped forward to grab his bag of food, drink cup, and lots of cookies.
“Hey, thanks again.” There he was. Talking to me.
Don’t say anything dumb. In fact, don’t say anything.
“Hey, I have something for you.”
“For me?”
He held out some money. “Yeah. Your change.”
I laughed, a little too hard. “Oh, yes, thanks.” I held out my hand, and he dropped a couple of dollars and some warm coins into my hand.
He set his food down on the counter, and pulled his backpack off his back. He unzipped the main compartment. “I have something else too.”
I said nothing, and watched as he pulled out a beat-up, brown lunch bag.
“I’m the last person in my group to give mine away, and I guess I’ve been extra picky about the person I’m supposed to give it to. But you have kind eyes, and since you just stepped up and helped me in a big way, I think you’re the one.”
He handed me the bag. I reached out and took it.
“Thank you,” I said. “What’s in here?”
He shrugged and one eyebrow went up.
“Everything you need.”
“Nathan! Come on, dude! Our plane’s boarding in ten!”
I turned around to see a fast-moving group of boys with backpacks carrying Taco Bell bags and gesturing for my surfer-friend to join them.
He gathered up his things.
“I gotta go. Thanks for making sure I didn’t starve.”
And then he disappeared in a sea of bobbing heads and wheeled carry-ons.
“One forty-seven!”
“Is that our order?” Ruby had returned, and she looked hungry.
I checked my receipt and stepped forward to get the bag of fries. And then I realized my mistake.
“That doesn’t look like a Happy Meal,” Ruby said.
Running from Reality Page 5