Chương 2
The man in the chair said, “Name?”
“Leo.”
“I’m Luke.”
“Is that your brother at the gate?”
Luke did not answer immediately.
“He’s the closest thing I’ve got.”
The words sounded practiced, as if they belonged to a version of the explanation he gave strangers.
At C31, a broad-shouldered man in a dark jacket stood near the windows holding a paper coffee cup. He kept checking the arriving passengers and then looking down at his phone. His hair had gone gray at the temples, and he wore the restless expression of someone prepared to leave but unwilling to admit he had given up waiting.
Luke lifted two fingers to his mouth and whistled.
The sound disappeared beneath an announcement.
Leo pushed faster.
The man near the windows turned.
His coffee slipped from his hand.
The cup hit the carpeted floor, bounced once, and rolled beneath a row of seats. Brown liquid spread around his shoes.
For a moment, neither man moved.
Then the man crossed the gate area in four long strides and dropped to one knee beside the wheelchair.
“Luke?”
Luke’s fingers closed around the suitcase handle.
The man touched the side of Luke’s face, perhaps to be certain he was real.
“You’re home.”
Luke looked away. His jaw shifted. He made a sound that might have been a laugh if it had not broken in the middle.
The older man wrapped both arms around him.
Luke’s faded cap fell to the floor.
No one spoke. A gate agent stopped scanning passengers. A woman pulled her rolling suitcase out of the aisle. Even the people who did not understand what they were seeing seemed to understand they should give the men room.
Leo backed away from the wheelchair.
The older man’s shoulders shook once. Luke pressed his face against the man’s jacket and held on with the desperate strength of someone who had spent too long pretending he no longer needed to.
Leo stared at the spilled coffee.
He felt embarrassed to be there.
He felt proud to be there.
He felt, suddenly and sharply, that he should have answered his phone.
An announcement crackled over the speakers.
“Flight 218 to Denver has departed.”
The words seemed louder than every announcement before them.
Luke raised his head.
The older man followed his gaze to Leo.
“Was that yours?” Luke asked.
Leo put his hands into the pocket of his hoodie so no one could see them shaking.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“You knew.”
“I didn’t know they were closing it.”
“They said final call four times.”
The older man sat back on one heel. “Kid, you missed your flight?”
Leo nodded.
Luke stared at him with an expression Leo could not name. Gratitude was in it, but so was anger, though not at Leo.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Leo looked toward the windows. Flight 218 was no longer visible.
“It was worth it.”
His phone rang again. The screen showed twelve missed calls from his father, three from his mother, and a battery warning at two percent.
Leo answered.
His father did not say hello.
“Where are you?”
“I’m at C31.”
There was a pause so complete that Leo could hear traffic through the car’s Bluetooth connection.
“You are supposed to be on an airplane.”
“I missed it.”
“I can see that you missed it. Why are you at C31?”
Leo looked at Luke, who lowered his eyes.
“There was a man who needed help.”
“A man?”
“He was in a wheelchair.”
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
Another silence. This one was different. Leo could hear his father breathing too quickly.
“Go to the nearest uniformed employee,” Mark said. His voice had become unnaturally calm. “Do not move from that employee. Do not follow anyone. Do not agree to go anywhere. Put the employee on the phone.”
“Dad—”
“Now, Leo.”
The battery died.
The screen went black.
Leo stared at his own reflection.
Luke held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”
“It’s dead.”
“Of course it is.”
The older man had risen. He picked up Luke’s cap and placed it carefully on the suitcase.
“I’m Owen Mercer,” he told Leo. “We’re going to find the airline desk, get your phone charged, and stay where there are cameras and employees until your father comes. Nobody’s taking you anywhere.”
The way he said it made Leo think he was accustomed to giving instructions that people followed.
“I can do it myself.”
“I’m sure you can,” Owen said. “You’ve demonstrated enough independence for one afternoon.”
Luke almost smiled.
They reached the customer-service desk after the final Denver flight with an open seat had closed. A supervisor named Denise took Leo’s information, checked his reservation, and printed a standby voucher for the first flight Monday morning. Because Leo was thirteen and traveling without an adult, she would not allow him to remain overnight in the terminal.
“Your father will have to come get you,” she said.
“He’s coming.”
“He sounded enthusiastic,” Luke said.
Leo glared at him.
Denise found a charger behind the counter. When Leo’s phone restarted, it displayed twenty-three missed calls. His father called before the screen finished loading.
“I’m at customer service,” Leo said quickly. “There are airline employees. I’m safe.”
“I’ll be there in thirty-eight minutes.”
“How do you know exactly?”
“I’m looking at the map.”
“Okay.”
“Do not move.”
“Okay.”
“Put the employee on.”
Denise accepted the phone with the expression of someone accustomed to frightened parents disguising themselves as angry ones. She gave Mark her name, employee number, and desk location. She promised Leo would remain behind the counter.
When she returned the phone, Mark said, “Thirty-six minutes.”
Then he hung up.
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Leo sat on a luggage scale because the chairs were full. Owen brought him a turkey sandwich in a plastic box and a bottle of water. Leo did not feel hungry, but Owen tore the box open and set it beside him without comment.
Luke remained in the wheelchair. Now that the rush was over, the pain showed more clearly. He kept shifting his hips and pressing two fingers against the edge of the prosthetic socket beneath his pant leg.
