I hung my head. “It’s not. Ruby, I forgot to order your food.”
And I just bought six cookies for a stranger and forgot to get some for Hunter!
“It was that boy, wasn’t it?”
I nodded. “I’m really sorry.”
Ruby sighed. “It’s okay. I’ll just get food at the Cowboy Chow place.” She pointed to the crumpled-up lunch bag. “What’s that?”
Right as she asked, the rest of my cousins showed up.
“This? Oh, it’s just something that boy gave me.”
“What boy?” Kendall asked.
“He was in front of me in line. I flatted his shoe and then paid for his lunch. He gave me this.”
“Do you know what’s in there?” Hunter stepped a little closer.
“No,” I said.
“Throw it out! Quick! It could be a bomb!” Lola backed up several feet.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I gathered my stuff and headed out toward the signs that said “Terminal C.” My cousins followed.
“Allie, I’m serious!” Lola tried to stop me by grabbing my shoulder. “You can’t just take a plain bag from someone in an airport!”
I stopped, and my cousins circled around me.
“Think, people. We’re in a terminal. Whatever’s in this bag had to get through security, and we already know that they’re tough down there because they didn’t even let me keep my little princess camo knife.”
“So, are you gonna open it and let us see what’s in there?” Kendall reached for the bag, but I pulled it away from her.
“No, I’m not. He said it was everything I need, so when I need something, I’ll look.”
Kendall rolled her eyes. “Man, he must have been cute.”
I put one hand on my hip. “He was nice. And that’s all I want to say. Now let’s go get some chow.”
CHAPTER 10
Terminal Pile-up
I love this Cowboy food!” Hunter popped a chili-fry into his mouth. “It was worth the walk.”
The “walk” he spoke of was about a half-mile to the train, which took us to terminal C. And then it was a quarter-mile walk to the Cowboy Chow Down.
“Did you know that the Dallas-Fort Worth airport is larger than the island of Manhattan?” Hunter patted the front pocket of his backpack. “I read it in the Dallas tour book.”
“You brought a Dallas tour book?” Kendall reached over and snatched one of Hunter’s fries. “We’re not visiting Dallas, ya know.”
“We’re in the Dallas airspace, so I call that visiting Dallas,” Hunter said. “The Cowboys are on, and there are stars everywhere. I like to find out what I can about the places I visit.”
“You know what, Hunter?” Lola pointed to a guy wearing a cowboy hat who was leaving the Cowboy Chow Down. “I think you should get one of them hats.” She spoke with a Texas drawl. “I think it would look downright handsome on ya.”
“That could be your disguise,” I said. “It would be less tiring that running everywhere, trying to be blurry.”
Hunter’s eyes lit up. “Great idea! Let’s find a cowboy store!”
“Here’s one.” Ruby pointed to a name on the directory we found in terminal C.
“Cowboy Up—the Place to Get the Gear. I think they might have a hat,” Lola said.
“But it’s in terminal E!” I put my heavy backpack on the floor for a second to rest my shoulders. “That means . . .”
“We better get movin’!” Hunter said. “I’ll take that for you, Allie!” Then he picked up my backpack and ran with it toward the sign that directed us to the train for terminal E.
“What time is our flight?” Lola asked.
“Four o’clock,” I said. “We’ve got one hour.”
“I’m sure that will be enough time,” Ruby said. “If we don’t run into any trouble.”
We didn’t run into trouble. We just ran into each other.
It was after we spent thirty minutes picking out and purchasing Hunter’s hat. It was a fancy one—made of black felt with a four-inch brim, and a brown-braided band with silver detail. Hunter looked just like a cowboy when he put it on, except for the long basketball shorts.
“We can work on that,” Lola said.
The problem wasn’t in the picking, it was in the paying. The line was long, and every person in the line seemed to need additional customer service.
“We gotta hurry, people,” I said.
And so we hurried. As soon as Hunter purchased his hat, we charged out of the store toward the train.
“The train for terminal B is way down there!” Lola huffed and puffed and tried to pull her backpack straps a little tighter.
“Look! There’s a moving sidewalk,” Hunter said. “If we run on that we can go lightspeed.”
It seemed like the perfect idea, so we followed Hunter on. And we were going lightspeed, until our cowboy tripped and fell.
And Kendall slammed into Hunter.
And Lola jammed into Kendall.
And Ruby rammed into Lola.
And I completed the five-cousin pile-up.
And there was blood.
CHAPTER 11
Princess Patch-Up
My knees!” Hunter somehow managed to keep his hat on during the cousin crash, but not his knee skin. Blood dripped down his calves and into his socks.
“My hands are not much better.” Kendall rubbed her bloodied palms onto her pant legs.
Lola inspected her elbows. “This is gonna hurt in the shower.”
Ruby and I had a few scrapes on our arms and hands too.
People walking the opposite way next to the moving sidewalk held their hands to their mouths as they walked by. One lady yelled, “Are y’all alright? Do you need first aid?”
The answer was yes, but we didn’t have time. If I just had some Band-Aids, I could get this beat-up crew to the gate to board the plane in time without them bleeding out.
“Let’s get off this moving death belt and come up with a strategy,” I said.
We exited at the next opening, which happened to be right in front of the doors for the terminal B train. The doors opened in seconds, and we piled on. People on the train gawked. “We had a little accident,” I said to no one in particular. “But we’ll be fine.”
Ruby pulled a napkin out of her backpack, wetted it with her water bottle, and handed it to Hunter. “Here. You have blood all over, and you’re scaring the children.”
Hunter grimaced. “Thanks.” And he began to wipe.
“We need to stop at a store and get some bandages,” Lola said.
I looked down at my watch. “We don’t have time.”
I dug in my backpack to see if maybe I left Band-Aids in there and forgot—like I forgot the knife. I checked each pocket, but only found some mints, hand sanitizer, and a phone number written on a piece of paper. No idea whose it was.
And then I saw the lunch bag, and remembered my surfer-friend’s words regarding its contents:
Everything you need.
“Hang on,” I said. I kept the bag in the backpack, but unfolded the top. I felt a little silly, but I just had this expectant feeling that I couldn’t explain.
When I opened the bag, I could hardly believe my eyes.
The item on top was a box of Band-Aids. Princess themed. Assorted sizes and princesses.
I wanted to hold the box up, jump around, and exclaim, “It’s a lunch bag miracle, people!” But instead, I decided to keep it a secret.
“Here,” I said, and I pulled the box out of the pack. “These should work.”
“Do you have knee-sized ones?” Hunter was still using the water from Ruby to wash off his wounds.
I pulled out two big square ones and handed them to Hunter.
“I hope you don’t mind Cinderella.” I laughed a little. “At least your shorts are long enough to cover them up when you stand.”
Hunter peeled off the wrapping and pulled the backing off the sticky part. He placed the Cinderella bandages on his knees, and then sighed.<
br />
“Feels better with the air not hitting them.”
“I’ll take The Little Mermaid,” Kendall said. “She’s a good singer, and tomorrow my hair will be the same color.”
I handed her a few smaller Ariel strips for the cuts on her hands.
“Why do you have princess bandages?” Lola asked. “I thought you weren’t a princess fan.” She pulled out a couple of Snow Whites and slapped them on her elbows.
“I am now,” I said.
A recorded voice came over the loud speaker.
“Arriving at terminal B in . . . twenty seconds . . .”
The train slowed, and people who were standing moved toward the double doors.
I checked my watch again.
“Okay, listen up. We don’t have much time, so no getting food or stopping in shops. Watch the signs for gate 57 and make sure we all go the right direction together.”
“I’ll hang on to you,” Ruby said, and she grabbed one of my backpack straps.
“Good thinking,” I said.
“Arriving . . . terminal B . . .”
The train came to a halt and we all stood.
“I don’t think we should run this time,” Hunter said.
The doors opened, and right in front of us was a sign that showed gates 25–50 to the left, and gates 51–75 to the right.
Thank you, Lord.
Good thing Ruby was hanging onto me, because she tried to turn left.
“I’m glad it’s not too far,” Lola said.
I could see the sign for gate 57 up in the distance, and a line was forming to board.
Whew, we made it!
A thin, red-headed young man wearing wire-framed glasses and a gray suit came running up to us.
“Are you the Carroway children?”
We froze in place and said nothing.
His head turned left and right, and as he scanned all of us, he tap-tap-tapped his foot and closed his fingers together in the shape of a teepee.
“Well, of course you’re the Carroways! I’ve seen the show!” He threw one hand up in the air.
The nervous guy then yelled to a girl at the desk who was on the phone. “I found them, Virginia!” Then he turned back to us and crossed his arms. “Where have you been for the last three hours? Your people have been calling.”
“People?” I asked. “What people?”
“Well, here are a few names you might recognize.” He started ticking names off on his fingers. “Papaw Ray, Maggie, Jake, Mamaw Kat . . .”
“Mamaw called?” Ruby smiled. “She gets lost a lot too, just like me.”
He continued, “Wayne, Janie, and then there was that California Carroway named Ryan . . .”
“My brother called?” I smiled.
Virginia walked over to us.
“We need to get you kids boarded. Why didn’t you wait for the guide when you got off your last flight?”
“Guide?” Lola scratched her head.
“Yes, that would have been me,” Jittery Man said. “You were supposed to meet me at the desk when you got off the plane.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember Papaw saying something about that.” Kendall elbowed me. “What happened, Allie?”
I shrugged.
“I thought that was just if we needed help. Plus, fresh air and McDonald’s fries were calling. I’m sorry, um . . . what’s your name?”
“Austin. The name’s Austin. Like the town in Texas. But I almost became ‘Austin—The Airline Employee Who Lost the Famous Carroway Children in Texas. Film at Eleven’.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I guess we forgot about the whole guide thing.”
Austin started talking to himself while he scanned the ceiling.
“It’ll be an easy job, Austin. Just meet five adolescents at the gate and guide them over to terminal B. It’ll be fun. They’re reality stars. Shouldn’t be any trouble at all . . . Yeah, right!” Austin shook his head, and huffed and puffed like he’d eaten too much hot sauce. Then he began batting the air in front of him, as if it were filled with blood-sucking gnats. Just when his face had reached the color of Lola’s hair streak, he stopped, and stuck his face out from his neck.
“WHERE have you people been?”
“Terminal E,” Hunter said.
“Yes, I can tell.” Austin flicked the bill of Hunter’s hat.
“And terminal C,” Kendall added. “We were hungry.”
Austin stuck out a finger. “Let me guess, the Chow Down?”
“It was really good,” Lola said, and then she burped. “Excuse me.”
“And now we’re here at terminal, uh . . . which one is this?” Ruby asked.
“Terminal B,” Austin said, and then he shook his head. “Just wondering, why didn’t you visit terminal D too, just to make sure you toured the entire airport? Do you have something against the letter D?”
I tried to hide a laugh, but was unsuccessful.
Hunter smiled, which told me he wasn’t feeling this guy’s stress at all.
“Is there something exciting in terminal D?”
“NO! There’s nothing exciting anywhere in this airport! Got that? Next time—proceed to your gate. Don’t pass go! Don’t collect two-hundred dollars!”
He looked down at all our bandages.
“And why are you all cut up? Did you take a little trip to the rodeo, too, and do some bull riding?”
“Austin? The captain would like us to finish boarding this flight.” Virginia had returned, and she handed Austin a plastic bottle of what looked like antacids. He poured a few out, popped them in his mouth, and started chomping.
Austin looked at us through narrowed eyes. “Well, you heard Virginia, it’s time to board. Move along, adolescents.” Austin led us right to the front of the boarding line and scanned our passes.
“Now, have a nice flight,” he said, and he practically shoved us down the airwalk. “And, if you children have phones, you might want to call your family before you’re in the air so they know you aren’t dead.”
I turned to wave at the poor guy.
“Thank you, sir. And once again, we are very sorry.”
Austin said nothing as he turned around and stomped off.
“Working for the airlines must be stressful,” Lola said.
“Sounds like he needs a little getaway too.” Kendall snickered.
Hunter, who led our line down the aisle of the airplane, came to our row—twenty-two. Not as far back as the bathrooms, but still far back.
“Here we are, Cowgirls, seats A–E. I’ll sit in seat D, since I have nothing against that letter.”
We all laughed. And then we laughed harder when Hunter ducked his head to get to the middle seat on the right side of the plane and the carry-on compartment knocked his hat off.
“Wait—I want the window seat so I can see Malibu.” Lola picked up Hunter’s hat, handed it to him, and then squeezed by.
“I’ll take the aisle.” Ruby pushed her backpack under the seat in front of her and plopped down next to Hunter.
Kendall held her hand out toward the window seat on the other side of the aisle with only two seats.
“Would you like the window? After all, if it weren’t for you and your peanut scare, we wouldn’t have gone on strike, and we wouldn’t be escaping to California. It’s only fittin’ that you should see it first.”
“Thanks, Kendall.” I scooted in to take my place by the window.
Kendall sat down next to me, unzipped her leather pack, and pulled out her burner phone.
“It’s hard to believe that I actually forgot I had one of these. But I guess it can’t do anything, so what’s the use?” She flipped it open and looked at the screen. “Oh . . . whoops . . . I have eight missed calls!”
Heat popped to my cheeks.
“Uh-oh.” I dug my phone out to check. Ten missed calls. And a couple of voicemails that I was afraid to listen to.
“I better call my mom.” I pulled up the directory, where Papaw had programmed in �
��all the numbers we would need.” I poked the one that said Maggie, and my heart started pumping a little harder.
The phone only rang once.
“Allie?”
“Hi, Mom.” I leaned my head up against the window.
“Where are you? Your flight leaves in ten minutes.”
“I’m on the plane. We’re all on the plane.”
Mom sighed loud. “Oh, thank God. The guide said that you never showed up at the desk. What happened?”
“I’m not sure. We didn’t see him, or we forgot, and we were hungry, and really excited . . .”
“Allie!”
“I’m sorry. What do you expect from a bunch of adolescents?” I kind of giggled, remembering how Austin squeaked out that term.
“I expect you to use the brains God gave you. Are you all okay?”
I examined my scratches.
“We had a little crash on the moving sidewalk, but no one lost any limbs.”
“Allie!” Mom yelled into the phone again, and this time I had to pull it away from my ear.
“We’re fine, Mom. Hey, I’m not supposed to be telling you anything about our trip! It’s part of the agreement.”
“Oops. Sorry, kiddo. But you were missing, and I’m your mom! I had to ask.”
“Okay, but that’s all the news you’re gonna get from now on. How are you? How’s the packing going?” I had to change the subject. Even if it was to that.
“It’s awful. But one more closet is done. Hey, we met the new owners in person today.”
“They aren’t the owners yet,” I said. “We’ve got a few more weeks.”
“Okay, honey. I meant the future owners. They have a couple of kids your age. Twins—a boy and a girl. And get this—the man lived near Mamaw and Papaw when he was a kid, and he played with your dad and all your uncles. His name is Andrew Doonsberry.”
“The Tablecloth Bandit?”
“One and the same. He still denies it, though. We had a good laugh about it this afternoon with him and his kids. I think they’re going to make great neighbors.”
At every family campfire since we’ve been little, our dads and uncles have told us the story of a demon alligator who lived in the haunted shed, and who one day long ago ate our Uncle Andy and a box of Mamaw’s seasonal tablecloths. Since then, everyone had been scared to enter that shed—until Hunter’s ‘cousin initiation’ last month—when we made him sit in there for an hour to prove the story was false. Then we learned, from Mamaw, that “Andy” was just a punk neighbor kid who stole Mamaw’s tablecloths to make tents out of them, and our dads made up the story about the gator to scare him off.
Running from Reality Page 6