I, Emma Freke (11 page)

When the man at the check-in desk asked if I had any baggage—after reprimanding me for being so late—I handed him the sleeping bag and then searched around for the tent.

“Where's Stevie's blue sack?”

Donatella glanced behind herself.

“I thought you had it,” she replied.

“I've got my huge, overstuffed backpack and the sleeping bag. What were you carrying?”

My mother giggled. “My purse?”

“Ladies! There's no time to argue,” said the check-in man whose pointy face was now scowling at me as if any of this was my fault. I felt like screaming,
I'm only twelve, even though I look twenty, and by the way, my mother is the worst parent ever!

“It must be in the trunk of the car,” Donatella mumbled, chewing on her pinky fingernail.

“Too late,” he snapped and studied the computer screen. “Hold on a second. According to your reservation, you're a minor?” He raised his eyebrows and stared at me doubtfully. Why would anyone lie about that?

“Here are my papers.”

He looked them over, groaned loudly, called someone on a little radio to meet me at security, and then shoved the packet back in my face.

“Next time,
please
arrive a minimum of ninety minutes early!”

“Well, you see—” began Donatella. But the man cut her off.

“Say your good-byes, madam! Your daughter needs to
sprint
! Now!!”

I whipped around and hurried down the long corridor toward the security line. Donatella had to practically run to keep up with me.

“Don't worry about the tent,” she said cheerfully, “you can sleep under a bush or a tree. It's only for a night or two.”

“Three nights!” I corrected her without looking back.

“Hey! Pretend you're lost in the woods and build your own shelter!” she suggested brightly.

I stopped and glared.

“Kidding!” she hollered punching me in the arm. “Those Frekes will help you out. Don't you worry one bit!”

How could this be happening? I wondered. Can anything ever go right in my life? As I continued on, I glanced around at the jumble of lines and stores and people and felt totally panicked. But even though I was on the verge of giving up and staying, deep down I knew I
really
had to get as far away from my mother as possible. Besides, maybe the campground rented tents. Donatella had given me extra money for emergencies, and now I definitely intended on using it.

Luckily, the security line was short. My mother leaned on the entrance post, huffing and puffing.

“Now don't forget to call me as soon as you land.”

I frowned. “
Don't
forget to pick me up on Monday.”

She took a deep breath, reached up and grabbed my cheeks, pinching them way too hard.

“How could I ever forget to pick up my only daughter?”

I had never been on an airplane before. I was surprised how cramped everything was. And it smelled kind of disgusting, like soy sauce and sneakers. My seat was in between a mom with a noisy baby and a guy with long, knotted, dirty blond hair that kept brushing up against my arm. At first the baby was cute, and I smiled at it. But then it got annoying after a while, because it kept wanting my attention and the mother assumed I would grin at it nonstop for the two-hour, twenty-three-minute flight. I envied the messy-haired guy who was listening to music, his seat reclined and his eyes closed.

The time ended up passing pretty quickly between the snacks/drinks and the TV entertainment. And I managed to put Donatella out of my mind. But just as the plane began to descend into Milwaukee and the cabin pressure changed, I remembered that I had nowhere to sleep for the next few days. My housing crisis aggravated by my aching ears made my eyes well up with tears. What was I thinking? It had been scary enough coming on this trip all alone, but now I had no tent. Nowhere to hide. And what if it stormed?

“Mint?” asked the mother.

The baby reached for it first so I had to act like that was really cute before prying it out of its chubby fingers. The wrapper was wet.

“Thanks.”

Upon pulling into the gate, a tiny, perky flight attendant leaned over our row.

“Are you
Emma
?” she practically shrieked.

I quickly answered before she could yell my whole lousy name loud enough for the entire plane to hear.

“Yep, that's me! Just Emma!”

“My goodness, you're only twelve!?”

It seemed like every head turned to stare at me. Even the baby.

“Uh-huh,” I muttered as I made a big deal of collecting my stuff.

“Well, my name is Dee-Dee! And I've been assigned to accompany you off the plane, hon. I should have checked in with you sooner, but I've just been so darn busy!”

This was not the same flight attendant who had escorted me down to the gate. That woman had barely said two words in the five minutes we were together.

I followed Dee-Dee and the crowd through several doors and down an escalator into the huge baggage claim area where people were standing around anxiously greeting some of us who were arriving.

“So do you see them?!” the tiny flight attendant hollered.

I scanned the waiting faces several times. But no one seemed to resemble a couple who could be named Jim and Nancy Freke. And more important, no one seemed to be looking for me.

“Nope.”

We found my sleeping bag on the spinny thing. It was last to arrive and mashed flat. Then we stood around until I no longer recognized people from our plane. The mother and baby had been met first, by two very excited old people, probably grandparents. And the guy with the gross hair kissed a girl (with a mohawk) for about three full minutes before leaving.

Dee-Dee groaned loudly.

“Well, this is a problem!” she complained. “I gotta catch a flight to Salt Lake in fifteen. Follow me, hon!”

She marched me down in her clippy high heels to a circular booth with an information sign. It reminded me of Stevie's reference desk at the library. I sat nervously on the edge of a plastic seat while Dee-Dee talked to the white-haired lady behind the counter. The lady smiled at me a couple times like one of those fake pleasant television grandmothers.

“Come on over here, Emma!” commanded Dee-Dee.

My hands started to tremble a little.

Dee-Dee reached up to squeeze my shoulder.

“Now this is Mrs. Snug! Hang onto your papers, and she'll help you locate your relatives! Okay, hon? I gotta skedaddle!! Stick with Mrs. Snug! Got it?”

“Um—”

But before I could respond, teeny-tiny Dee-Dee tore off on her high heels, tip-tapping back up the corridor. Off to her next plane.

“You poor pumpkin,” said Mrs. Snug, clucking her tongue very loudly. “Now I want you to relax and sit back down in your chair. Do you have something to read?”

I obediently showed her my stash of magazines and books, which I had packed in case no one spoke to me all weekend.

“Excellent! Now if someone doesn't come to claim you within twenty minutes, we'll start paging over the intercom. And if that doesn't work, we'll make phone calls. How does that sound?”

The intercom?

“Good, I guess.”

“You betcha!”

Then she handed me a bag of granola (the same kind they doled out on the plane) and took the next person in line.

I suppose it made sense to sit still and wait for a while before completely panicking. After all, Jim and Nancy could be caught in traffic or even running late if they were anything like Donatella. I felt around in my backpack for my emergency prepaid cell phone but decided I wouldn't use it to call home quite yet. Not until I knew if I still had a ride to the reunion.

Instead, I pulled out my brand-new book of crossword puzzles and began on page one, which was titled “What's for Dinner?” Since I did most of the cooking in our house, it wasn't hard. There were words like
ladle
,
sink
, and
spices
. The only one that gave me trouble was 17 Down:
dried bread or tapping crystal
, which was “toast.” By the time I solved the second puzzle, “Name That Author,” more than twenty minutes had passed. I looked up and, to my horror, saw that Mrs. Snug was gone! Instead, a stern woman wearing a navy blue suit stood in her place, and she seemed to be scolding people with information.

I jumped up and scanned the cavernous airport wondering what to do next. I didn't even know who I was searching for other than two adults with my terrible last name appearing as worried as I was. I must have studied every inch of the enormous lobby, my heart pounding, until I finally admitted the truth.

I had been forgotten.

Even Mrs. Snug had forgotten about me.

I wasn't surprised.

I was pretty forgettable.

After sighing a few times, I realized I had no choice but to get back in line at the information booth. It was pointless to try to call anyone. In fact, Donatella had never given me any of the relatives' phone numbers in case something like this happened. All I could do was beg the mean lady to let me change my return ticket date and fly immediately back home.

As I dug around in my pocket for the piece of paper with my flight information, I found Penelope's good mojo gold bead wedged deeply into the lining. Earlier that morning, when I awoke at five, it was the first thing I remembered to grab. Obviously, I needed all the luck I could get. Plus it reminded me of Penelope who always made me smile and somehow gave me the courage to try things I wouldn't normally do. But right now, the bead didn't seem to be working at all.

“Are you Emma?”

In front of me stood a tall, oldish woman with frizzy gray hair and a wrinkly face. She wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt that read Milwaukee Harley Rally. Scrolly tattoos adorned both skinny, crinkly arms. She looked like one of those senior citizen bikers you see at rest stops on the highway. I stared at her and didn't say a word.

“I'm Wanda,” she said in a low voice. “There's been a bit of an accident.”

“There has?”

Wanda nodded.

“Um. What kind of accident?”

“Rotor come loose on the corn husker this morning,” she said, “clipped his forearm. But he's gonna be okay.”

I had no idea what she was talking about.

Finally, I asked, “Who's going to be okay?”

“Why, Jim's who.”

“You mean Jim and Nancy who were supposed to pick me up?”

All at once, I felt embarrassed, because I was chattering away like I knew these people. But now I was beginning to realize I was entering a forest of strange faces . . . starting with Wanda.

“Nancy doesn't operate the husker, but she's the one taking Jim 'round to the clinic.” Wanda spoke in a toneless, mumbly way like her sentences were just one long word. “Looks like they won't be heading north to New Thule this weekend.”

I didn't know how to respond to any of this, so we stood and stared some more. I wondered if Wanda was trying to tell me that all plans were off, and I was supposed to get back on the plane. I waited for her to say something else, but instead, Mrs. Snug reappeared.

“Sorry about that, pumpkin! I had to make a dash for the little girl's room.” She winked at Wanda. “So are you Emma's temporary guardian?”

Wanda took her hands out of her pockets and mumbled, “There's been a snag in plans. I was called to fetch her.”

“Oh my. Is your name listed on the ‘unaccompanied minor' form?”

“Doubt it,” said Wanda.

“Well, do you know each other?”

“Nope,” we replied at the same time.

“Deary, deary, deary,” said Mrs. Snug. “Emma, may I see your papers please?”

The three of us stood by the information desk as a bunch of adults in matching blue suits gathered together to decide what to do. Finally, they had me call Donatella.

No one answered, of course. It was the machine:
Did you miss me? I miss you too. Please leave a message or a blessing for Donatella or members of her staff after the sound of the tam-tam gong. Peace!

That “members of her staff” part always irritated me. I was the only member of her staff.

“She's not there.”

Mrs. Snug suggested, “Cell phone?”

“She never has it on,” I muttered.

Two scary men, the mean lady, and nice Mrs. Snug all told me to sit down (again) and wait while Wanda showed them every piece of identification in her wallet. Then the next thing I knew, Wanda was on the phone apparently trying to reach Jim and Nancy in the emergency room. My hands were now sweating from trembling so much.

What a mess.

I wondered if these ridiculous things happened to most people, even just a few other people. Or was it just me? It seemed like for every little step forward I took, something or someone pushed me back two gigantic steps. What if my whole life ended up being like this? I'd never get anywhere.