[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

 In Miami.
I cannot speak. Does he mean to say that we have com-
pleted our entire journey? It seems barely longer than the
time spent walking to the Euphrasian border. I wonder . . .
if everything can be accomplished in so little time, does
that mean people live longer?
 How long was I asleep, then? Three months? Six?
Jack laughs.  The flight was long, but not that long a
few hours. He hands me a crinkly object, which I now
know is a plastic bag.  Here. I got you some pretzels.
I have no idea what a pretzel is, but I take the bag.
 Thank you. It is lovely. I gaze at it. It is blue and says
147
AMERICAN AIRLINES.  I shall treasure it forever.
He shrugs.  I thought maybe you d eat it.
So I do. It takes a few attempts to open the bag, but
once I do, the pretzels are crunchy and salty. I wonder if
all American food is like this. If so, it is a bit dry. Still, I eat
them politely.  Lovely.
Jack points to the window.  There it is.
I look. There are strange sorts of trees, tall with no leaves
save for little hats on top, and there is water all around. I
remember that we have been flying in the air all this time,
ten hours, and it should be nighttime, yet it is daylight,
glorious, sunny daylight, and I am free to go out into it if
I please.
And suddenly, the pretzels taste not like salt but like
freedom.
 I need my hairbrush, I tell Jack.
 What for? He opens his travel trunk.
 We shall be meeting your family, shall we not? When
Father returns from a voyage, Mother and I and all the
members of court meet his ship with flowers. If this is to
be like that, I should comb my hair. In any case, a princess
must keep up appearances.
I take out the simplest hairbrush I own, silver with
hardly any jewels. Jack was appalled when he saw it. Mod-
ern hairbrushes, he says, are made of plastic. I know what
plastic is now, and I must say that it has none of the appeal
of silver. I threw out the plastic shoes Jack purchased for
me, which pinched my feet so that I could barely walk.
148
Now, I have cloth shoes which tie in front. Still, I yearn for
my own shoes, made of the finest kid and fitted exactly to
my feet.
I miss my lady s maid, who brushed my hair one hundred
strokes each morning and night. I miss being a princess.
But then I remember Father s anger. That I do not miss
at all.
 Nah, no one will be there, Jack says, recalling me to
the time and place.
 Beg your pardon?
 My family. They re all busy. You ll meet them later on,
I guess.
 But surely someone 
 Nope. We ll take a cab.
I took a cab to the airport in France, and the most I can
say for it is that it is not a bus. I shake my head but keep
a civil tongue inside it. It seems incredible that a young
man could journey across the ocean and come home to
no fanfare whatsoever. I examine Jack s face. His lips are
pursed, his brow furrowed, and I suspect that his thoughts
on the subject are similar to my own. It strikes me that Jack
and I suffer from the opposite problem: While my parents
kept me too close at hand, Jack s do not keep him at hand
at all.
Suddenly there is a giant bump that causes my seat, my
body, my very bones to jump, and there is a sound like a
thunderclap.
 What was that? I cry.
149
Jack laughs.  Relax, silly. We just landed. We re on the
ground. He takes out his telephone and turns it on.
 We are? I glance out the window. It is true. We are.
The trees and ocean are no longer visible, replaced by dull,
gray land. But a moment ago, I was in the clouds! Me.
Talia. After three hundred sixteen years isolated in a castle,
apart from everyone, in three days I have met a boy, run
away, and crossed the ocean in a magical flying machine.
Who would have believed it possible?
Certainly not my father.
150
9
Chapter :
Jack
j
t takes a while to get off the plane with Talia s fifty-pound
Icarry-on. But finally we make it.
I love when you enter the jetport in Miami, and you re
met with that first blast of hot air through the cracks that
reminds you you re home. I watch Talia s face as we walk
off the plane.
 Ooh! So warm!
I grin.
I told Talia no one would be there to pick us up at
the airport, mostly because I didn t want her to spend an
hour in the airport bathroom, fixing her hair with that
ten-pound brush of hers and pinching her cheeks to make
them pink or something. But I didn t really think no one
was coming.
I check my cell phone to make sure I turned it on, and I
151
check to see if I have messages, even though I know I don t.
I texted both parents when I got off the plane. Nothing
yet.
We head downstairs to the baggage claim. Talia seems a
bit dazed, and I nudge her.  You okay?
She rests her hand on my arm.  I am glad you are here.
I do not think I have seen as many people in my entire life
as I have seen today.
 No problem. Her hand s still there. It s weird
because I kind of like the way it feels, her sort of depending
on me.
She points to the luggage carousel.  Ooh! What fun!
 Yeah. Don t touch it. We have to look for our
suitcases.
My parents still aren t here, so I dial home. My sister
answers.
 Hey, Mer, where s Mom?
 Out drowning her sorrows about getting stuck with
such a bad son.
 Yeah?
 I think she s playing tennis.
 I m at the airport. I turn so Talia can t hear me.  Is
anyone coming?
 Hmm . . . I m guessing that would be a no. That s
weird. She came and picked me up from camp last week.
They must love me more but then, I didn t run away
from camp.
 Very funny.
152
I call Dad. His secretary answers. Her name is Marilyn,
which I know because making me work in his office is my
dad s other favorite way to ruin my summer. Actually, that
was the one selling point for the Europe trip.
 Oh, was that today? she says when I tell her I m at
the airport.
 Uh, yeah.
 He s in Houston right now. Do you want me to call
Super Shuttle for you?
No way. If my parents forget to pick me up from the
airport after I ve been gone almost the whole time I was
supposed to be, they re springing for a cab. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]