Если я останусь
10:12 A.M.
Ahelicopterismorelikeahockeypuck,bouncedthroughthesky.Upanddown,sidetoside.Ihavenoideahowthesepeoplecanworkonme,canreadthesmallcomputerprintouts,candrivethisthingwhiletheycommunicateaboutmethroughheadsets,howtheycandoanyofitwiththechopperchoppingaround.
Thehelicopterhitsanairpocketandbyallrightsitshouldmakemequeasy.ButIdon’tfeelanything,atleastthemewho’sabystanderheredoesnot.Andthemeonthestretcherdoesn’tseemtofeelanything,either.AgainIhavetowonderifI’mdeadbutthenItellmyselfno.Theywouldnothaveloadedmeonthishelicopter,wouldnotbeflyingmeacrossthelushforestsifIweredead.
Also,ifIweredead,IliketothinkMomandDadwould’vecomeformebynow.
Icanseethetimeonthecontrolpanel.It’s10:37.Iwonderwhat’shappeningbackdownontheground.HasWillowfiguredoutwhotheemergencyis?Hasanyonephonedmygrandparents?Theyliveonetownoverfromus,andIwaslookingforwardtodinnerwiththem.Grampsfishesandhesmokeshisownsalmonandoysters,andwewould’veprobablyeatenthatwithGran’shomemadethickbrownbeerbread.ThenGranwould’vetakenTeddyovertothegiantrecyclingbinsintownandlethimswimaroundformagazines.Lately,he’shadathingforReader’sDigest.Helikestocutoutthecartoonsandmakecollages.
IwonderaboutKim.There’snoschooltoday.Iprobablywon’tbeinschooltomorrow.
