Free Unscheduled Departure by T.M. Franklin Page B

manning the luggage checking station.
    They didn't spare us a second glance.
    So far, so good.
     
    1:58 PM
     
    "Well?" Finn glanced over his shoulder nervously. "Where is it?"
    "I . . . I don't know," I replied, circling back to the edge of the security line, then pacing back to the wall. "There was a black scuff, but they must have waxed the floors or something.”
    I looked up at the support posts and lifted the phone to my ear. "Is she sure she's in the right spot?" I asked.
    I heard a rustle on the phone, Finn talking to the other me, then he said, "Yeah. She says there's a scuff on the floor."
    "Well, it's gone here." I looked up at the posts again. "I think it's this one," I murmured.
    “Trust your instincts,” Finn said, touching my shoulder.
    I swallowed down a rush of nerves and leaned against the post as I had when I'd sent the text. A movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I spotted a security officer looking my direction and speaking into his radio.
    I looked down quickly and cursed under my breath.
    "What is it?" Finn asked. Both Finns asked.
    "I think I've been spotted," I said quietly. "We've got to do this now."
    There were two officers watching now— no, three— and not only watching, but approaching in a wide circle. I closed my eyes and tried to focus, to think of home . . . Finn . . . my mother.
    Finn mumbled something under his breath and my eyes flew open. He leaned in and kissed me. "Good luck," he whispered, and he whirled around and took off at a run, slamming into one of the officers and knocking him to the floor. The others took off in pursuit.
    "Finn!" I shouted.
    "Go!" he shouted back, and I closed my eyes and tried to do just that. Tried not to worry about what would happen when the other Rowan emerged, her boyfriend now joining her on the No-Fly list.
    I owed her an apology.
    "Tell Rowan I'm sorry," I murmured over the phone.
    "For what?" Finn replied.
    "She'll see." I closed my eyes. "I don't know if this is going to work, Finnefred."
    "Lame," he said, laughter in his voice. "You can do better."
    I smiled, focusing on his voice. "Car-Finn Miranda?"
    He snorted. "Try again."
    I thought of Finn— of the first time I met him, in line at the dining hall. Of our first date at a horrible Greek restaurant that he'd picked, trying to impress me. Of our first kiss after he'd bought me the most amazing ice cream cone to make up for it.
    "Finnick Odair?"
    "You've used that one before."
    A swirl of images flooded my mind, one after the other in rapid succession: Finn’s smile, his touch, the sound of his laughter . . . the taste of his kiss. I leaned into the post, a rush of dizziness hitting me suddenly.
    “Finn?”
    “I’m here. Try again.”
    I thought of that little scar on the corner of Finn’s mouth, the way he slowed his steps so I could always keep up.
    The first time he told me he loved me, and he picked up my hand, pressing his lips to the tip of my finger, saying he always wanted it to point toward home.
    Toward him.
    "Finn-tendo sixty-four?"
    Finn laughed, louder than expected. "Now you're talking," he said.
    And I realized I hadn't heard it through the phone. In fact, I wasn't even holding my phone anymore.
    I opened my eyes to see Finn leaning against the same post, right in front of me. He looked at his phone and shrugged, stuffing it into his pocket.
    "Guess we got disconnected," he said, laughter in his eyes.
    I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck as I inhaled his scent and he held me tight.
    "Welcome home," he said.
     
    1:06 PM
    Friday
     
    I walked out of the building after my World Religions midterm and blinked at the bright sunshine as I headed toward the coffee shop to meet Finn for lunch. I studied the faces of the people I passed, more than I ever had before, and I wondered how many of them were where they belonged.
    I’d thought about it a lot since everything happened. It was hard to think of anything else, really. What led to me