Grounded, page 11
“No, but you kids did do something wrong. You went into a restricted area of the airport. You could very well be charged with trespassing.”
“Mr. Rock, Congresswoman Sarah Najjar here,” Nora’s mother quickly interjects, putting out her hand to shake Bruce Rock’s. “We are so sorry for what happened. With the flights being canceled and all the stress, I think the kids got bored. You know how kids can get when they’re antsy. It’s a new situation. You’ve got to understand.”
We are sorry? I stare at Congresswoman Najjar.
She thinks we were running around because we were bored?
“Please.” Congresswoman Najjar smiles and continues with her appeal to Bruce Rock when he doesn’t respond. “I’m sure they’ve learned their lesson. And will be very careful of breaking any laws henceforth. And be mindful citizens. Which is a win for all!”
Bruce Rock shakes his head. “No one goes anywhere until I’ve had a chance to review the security footage again. There’s plenty of time, but even if flights resume, no one is boarding until you get the all clear. I suggest you all go back to your gates now.”
Congresswoman Najjar doesn’t lose a beat, the smile still on her face. “I hardly think that’s necessary. The sooner we get these kids home and out of a cooped-up airport, the better for everyone. We’ll have them under our close supervision until we leave, and I am absolutely certain that this is the last you’ll hear from these children. Again, they are very sorry.”
Bruce studies her and us. Then, “I’m sorry, ma’am. We need to review everything, and we need your information.”
Congresswoman Najjar’s face falls. Dad pulls out his wallet and walks to hand his identification over to B. White at the desk. Sami’s parents are already there, waiting on whatever B. White is doing with their “information.” Feek’s mom is standing off to the side, soothing baby Hamza while she waits her turn.
I can’t believe it.
They’re all falling in line.
And I know Congresswoman Najjar said what she did to try to get us out of trouble.
But this is IMPORTANT TROUBLE.
“Pets are passengers too! They have rights like us!” I say, some of my anger at Congresswoman Najjar apologizing on our behalf bursting out of me. “What about all those poor tranquilized animals who just wanted to fly in peace with their families?!”
Bruce Rock stares at me and then forms a small smile. “What’s your name, young lady?”
“Hanna. Hanna Chen, Animal Allies International member.” I nod at the others. “And these are fellow concerned citizens.”
Nora and Feek nod back at me. Sami just whimpers from behind them.
Maybe Bruce Rock is going to help us now that we’re calmer.
Maybe we can now solve this like adults.
“Well, Hanna Chen, Animal Allies International member, what you’re describing is not happening to any animals here or at any other airports that I know of.”
“But San Marzino—”
“Hanna, stop, and come away right now,” Dad says from behind me.
“The San Marzino Airport was a made-up story fueled by a tabloid that is currently in court being sued for fanning untruths.”
“Victor died. Victor the parakeet!”
“Not from being tranquilized. Do your research, Hanna.” Bruce Rock shakes his head and sighs like he’s disappointed in me.
“But we saw and heard—” I start, but then Dad says, “I said, that’s enough, Hanna!”
I turn to Dad, in shock at his voice.
What is happening?
“That area you all saw with the needles and medicine was actually the back of the airport medical clinic. The evil doctor you saw was a lab technician. And B. White right here is Security Officer Betty White, animal lover, who would never harm any pet. She’s actually petitioning for animals not to be allowed to fly out of here until they make it more pet safe.”
B. White turns her phone around to me. It’s the Animal Allies forum, and in the corner it shows her AA name: GoldenGirl. “I want Hurston to cancel animals traveling until we have a foolproof way for them to fly safely and securely, like us humans do. Like Laxton Airport did in California.”
I look up at her, and although she doesn’t soften her face, I see her eyes. They are . . . kind. And, gulp, I see that the key chain sticking out of her pocket is of the panda from the World Wildlife Fund.
Bruce Rock suddenly smiles at me, and I can’t tell if it’s in a kind way or in an amused way. “Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy you’re so worried. I’m worried about that poor cat too. I want her found. And I love when kids care about the world. You’re trying to do good, all of you.” He nods at Feek, Nora, and Sami and then gives me another mysterious smile. “But remember: go out there armed with the truth. And you’ll get more people onboard.”
He turns around and follows B. White.
And everyone turns around and follows their parents.
But I’m afraid to turn around and follow Dad.
Mom is all smiles when we’re around everyone else’s parents. She comforts the moms by patting their hands or putting an arm around their shoulders. She checks in with the dads and says things like:
“All that matters is that everyone was found.”
“Look at these budding young activists. One day they’ll use all that imagination to change the world.”
But as soon as we are out of earshot, her exasperation shows. She massages her temples and says, “Nora, what were you thinking? I was sitting there, working, and when I looked up, I saw all these worried parents from MONA gathered together. So I went over there, thinking I was helping them, only to find out these were the parents of the kids you wandered off with. And then we spoke to security, only for security to tell us you kids had been trespassing all over the airport! If the press gets ahold of this story, they’ll spin it into how a bunch of Muslim kids got caught in an airport security breach and how one of them was the congress-woman’s daughter. They’ll make it sound like I was using you kids to plot some terrible scheme.”
A bunch of Muslim kids? I slow down behind Mom as we walk back to our gate. Is she saying that the press will lump me in with these Muslim kids, or does she see our family as Muslim?
Even when I was running around the airport, I saw myself as me, Nora, and they were the MONA kids. I don’t get how any of this works. Like, what does it take to be one of the Muslim kids? I don’t know the stuff they know, the prayers they say when they’re together.
And, honestly, I don’t care right now. My whole world is crumbling. One minute I’m using NokNok to find Snickerdoodle. Everyone is sharing, and I feel like I’m saving the world. The next minute, I’m playing back a video that didn’t record clearly, and my comments are full of accusations that I’m a faker. As if I had no real leads and I was using Snickerdoodle’s search to get attention.
Even Kennedy and Mackenzie commented with skulls and shocked-face emojis. What does that mean? But the worst was seeing Sumaya’s message. “First the birthday party. Now this. You’re such a liar.”
Maybe Sumaya’s right.
I was totally wrong about all of it. Maybe there is a cat named Snickerdoodle missing somewhere in this airport, but that’s just it. She’s missing, and there’s no big scandal we’re uncovering.
Back at the security desk, I made it sound like I was only sad about not getting the evidence we needed so I wouldn’t break down in front of everyone. But I’m SO embarrassed. I’m not even excited about having a ton of new followers anymore, because more followers are more people who witnessed this low point in my life.
I want to delete my NokNok account and hide forever.
By now Mom’s a few steps ahead of me. Her sturdy, low-heel pumps click loudly against the floor, and I fall farther and farther behind. I can’t believe I got in trouble with my mom, airport security, and the Internet all in one day.
I look around to catch a glimpse of the other kids. Hanna is walking off with her dad. I can’t find Feek and Ruqi. They must be back at their gate already. And Sami’s parents are giving him a hug.
Unbelievable. My life is pretty much over, and Sami is getting a hug. I bet his parents are asking him how all this is making him feel.
“Nora.” Mom turns around to see where I am. She stops and waits for me to catch up before saying, “Were you listening? I’m explaining that airports are secured places, and what you did was illegal. I know it would be a nightmare to lose a pet like this. You were probably thinking about how you’d feel if you lost Gucci, but our family is too high-profile for you to risk getting in this kind of trouble.”
Ugh. I broke the law and blew up my entire social life on Nok-Nok, and apparently Mom thinks I did it all for my love of Gucci!
My cheeks flush with a hot mix of embarrassment and anger, and it doesn’t help that while Mom is talking to me, she’s also looking at her phone. Probably checking her messages to see if anyone has found out about this.
Mom’s right. The press will probably find out because they always find out about everything, and that means even more people will know about this disaster.
I follow Mom the rest of the way to our gate, but I can’t shake feeling stupid, not just for hanging out with these kids I don’t know and will probably never see again but for posting about it too.
At the gate, the seats we had earlier in the day are taken, and floor space is limited with so many people sprawled out, trying to sleep. Mom’s irritation grows by the minute as she scans our gate for a place to set up camp. She wrinkles her forehead and purses her lips. Then she sighs loudly and says, “I need to find an outlet. I’ve got to make some calls before things get out of hand.”
It feels like another dig. She may as well have said, “I’ve got to make some calls to cover up your big mess.”
Mom motions with her head for me to follow her to a space on the window ledge. It’s wide enough for both of us, but I don’t want to sit on a cold metal frame with nothing to lean against.
“I’ll just sit here on the floor,” I say, pointing to a large pillar with an electrical outlet at its base.
“Oh, good,” Mom says, “you can watch our stuff while we charge. And Nora, no more wandering off. All of you kids need to stay at your gate until we leave. If any of those kids come over here again, send them back to their parents, okay?”
I nod, but I can’t believe Mom is letting me sit by myself so easily. Mom should insist that I sit next to her and explain why all this happened so I can spill out everything about Kennedy, Mackenzie, Sumaya, and NokNok. She should keep asking me to talk even if I say I don’t want to talk because, as the kid, I can’t want to talk to her more than she wants to talk to me. It’s like a rule or a law or something.
I slide down against the pillar. I’m afraid to pull out my phone, but I can’t resist the urge to know what people are saying. Maybe it’s not all terrible. I take a deep breath and scroll through the comments. This time, between the accusations that I staged our search, I see people rooting for us to find Snickerdoodle, people who believe in us. There’s even a message from the Hoffmans.
Thank you, kids, for trying to bring our Snickerdoodle home.
It makes me think of Congressmom. When I get upset about the mean things people say about her online, she tells me, “Nora, I am elected by the people, but I work in service of causes. As long as I am making progress toward those causes, it doesn’t matter what people say or think about me.”
That’s what Hanna tried to get us to do today. Serve a cause.
I sit up tall, hit record, and say, “Guys, I know some of you think I was faking my search, but I only wanted to help find Snickerdoodle. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”
I post the clip, and then I pull up my chat with Sumaya. I type something and then erase it. I type another thing and erase that too. There’s no point. After lying to her about my party, she’s not going to believe that I was telling the truth about looking for Snickerdoodle.
One second passes.
Then two.
Three.
Thirty full seconds pass. No one speaks.
My parents face me as raindrops pelt the ground through the darkened window behind them. They haven’t said a word since I walked back with them to our gate. My mom hugged me when she first saw me at security, but now they’re just studying me, their hands on their hips. It’s got to have been a minute by now. Which might not sound like a lot, but it feels like forever. Especially when no one’s saying anything.
I wonder if I broke their brains.
“Sami.” My father finally clears his throat. A whoosh of air buzzes from the vent above us, mussing his hair. “That was . . . It was . . . unexpected.”
This gives my mother a jolt. Quickly nodding, she adds, “That’s right. Sneaking into a locked facility at the airport? The whole sky lounge thing they told us about? How did this happen?”
“I told them they had the wrong kid,” my dad says. “It couldn’t be Sami. Not our Sami. Do you have anything to say to us?”
I look at my shoes. Silence stretches between us. I should answer them. Say something. A million different feelings pulse through me. I clench my palms. My whole body feels like it’s rumbling. It’s a new feeling. Like I’m a volcano on the verge of erupting.
“Sami,” my mother says. “How did this happen?”
I jerk my head up. Is she serious right now? She is. She’s looking at me with worried eyes and pretending she has no idea.
Just like that, molten lava erupts.
“How did this happen?” I repeat. “How. Did. This. Happen?” I swallow and then—“What happened is”—my voice rising—“I wanted to sit right here at our gate. I wanted to figure out how to get home. And you told me to go off with Hanna.”
“Sami—” my mother begins, but I don’t let her continue. I don’t care if my voice is way higher than it probably should be and that the lady next to us isn’t even pretending to not be eavesdropping but just plain old staring at us with wide eyes.
“I didn’t want to go! I looked at you, Mom! You saw me shaking my head. You know I didn’t want to go. Why would I EVER want to go off like that? But no.” I throw up my hands. “You wanted me to get out of here because you were sick of me. You were sick of me freaking out. You wanted me to go away.”
“Sami, that’s not—” my father begins.
“My new friend,” I interrupt. “That’s what you called her, Mom. I talked to her for like five minutes earlier when I was checking flight times. You shoved me off to go and wander the airport with her. A stranger! I shouldn’t have gotten on the plane train, okay? We shouldn’t have been in that hallway. Or the sky lounge. I know that. But I didn’t WANT to BE THERE in the first place!”
My mother’s eyes water. My father’s jaw opens and closes.
I’m pretty sure this is the opposite of how this is supposed to go. I was caught trespassing at an airport. They should be going off on me and telling me I’m grounded until I’m eighteen. But my parents? They’re staring at me like I grew an extra head. Antlers too. I guess it’s because I’ve never spoken to them like this in my life.
The lava stops flowing. I’m suddenly so tired. So tired my legs feel like they might just buckle underneath me.
My father clears his throat, but before he can say anything, I speak. “I know you have a lot to say”—my voice trembles—“but I can’t right now. I just need a minute. Okay?”
I sink into the empty seat behind me. I pull out my headphones and plug them into my phone. I pretend I’m listening to music instead of the words going round and round in my head. The words I didn’t say to my parents: I’m sorry that even when I’m trying to help, I just make things worse. I’m sorry I’m not cool and confident like Ibrahim. I’m sorry you got your perfect son right away and now you’re stuck with me.
I can’t believe I was wrong. So very wrong.
About so many things.
And nowhere close to finding Snickerdoodle.
I keep a gap between me and Dad as we walk back to our gate, but he moves closer and closer. Finally, as we near our seats, he puts a hand on my shoulder, and I almost jolt when I feel it.
It’s firm. And strong.
“Hanna. Stop,” he commands. “Let’s move over there. People are sleeping near our seats, and we need to talk.”
Dad lets go of me, and I stop but don’t turn in his direction. When I don’t hear anything more from him, I sidle my eyes to the side to see why.
He’s moved near an information board and is waiting there with his arms crossed, staring straight at me.
Uh-oh. Dad’s not supposed to get mad at me. I’m the one who has a right to be mad at him. He’s the one who broke my trust. And went behind my back. To change our family.
I eye my seat. Maybe I could just sit down and ignore Dad completely.
Across from my gate, I see a sad sight. Sami’s arms are crossed, and his parents are towering over him with frowny faces. I turn to check if I can see Nora. Maybe she’s getting patted on the back by her mother because Nora’s done a heroic thing, searching for a missing animal.
But instead I’m met with another awful sight: Nora’s mom is marching ahead of her, talking and shaking her head while Nora follows, a dejected look on her face, her arms crossed exactly like Sami’s.
“Hanna Amelia Chen, over here. Right. Now.”
Stunned, I pivot to Dad’s loud voice, a voice he doesn’t use often with me—maybe like twice in his life before.
As if I’m not in charge of my body, I walk over.
And, again, like I’m not in charge of my actions, though I try my hardest not to look at him, my eyes rise to his face.
I feel compelled to check how angry he is.
His eyes flash. “No more. That’s it. This is going to stop. Now.”
He’s angry. Really angry.
“We’re done. This game. Completely done.”
I lower my eyes and feel my shoulders hunching. The little words coming out of his mouth feel like stones raining on my head.
