Free Girl Underwater by Claire Kells Page B

says.
    â€œWhat did the report say?”
    He looks up at the sky. “Snow later today.”
    â€œSnow?” The word creeps past my lips.
    â€œA foot in Salt Lake.” He pauses. “Probably more up here.”
    I crane my neck and search the skies for what feels like the thousandth time. The occasional plane cruising some twenty thousand feet above us doesn’t reassure me at all; it just makes me feel smaller, like a tiny speck on a woodsy-green canvas. Even with the NTSB’s technology and black boxes and GPS, searching the Rockies for survivors before a big storm hits puts other people at risk—especially if the powers that be assume no one made it out alive.
    Colin abandons the cords and kneels in front of me. “They’ll find us, Avery.”
    His eyes tell such grievous truths, which weigh on me more than anything—more than the altitude, or the weather, or the fact that three boys are depending on us. Because once someone decides we’re dead, it’s all for nothing. We won’t make it out of here.
    Liam wakes up and rubs his eyes. Dazed, he looks around and bursts into tears. Aayu quickly follows. So much for a peaceful nap time. Soon they’ll be asking me for food, which I don’t have. Or their mothers, who are dead. Or a warm bed, which they may never know again.
    â€œAvery,” Colin pleads.
    I get up before he can say something that will make me feel worse. Because that’s my problem with him—his lies are obviously lies, and his false reassurances make me feel childlike and fragile. His truths, on the other hand, are too raw for me to handle. The compromise leaves us in a silent stalemate, a comfort zone with a population of one.
    The boys receive Colin with hugs, but they look to me for food. All I have to offer is salty peanuts and some waterlogged cookies. Liam wolfs them down, but Aayu takes his time inspecting every morsel he puts in his mouth. Tim eats with the cautious satisfaction of a picky eater. I can picture him at his kitchen table at home, eating Kraft mac ’n’ cheese while his well-to-do parents dine on asparagus and lamb. But he doesn’t complain. When I hand him a tiny packet of nuts, he thanks me politely.
    Colin selects a bag of chips, then proceeds to offer all of its contents to the boys. I snatch it away from him. “Colin, you need to eat.”
    â€œI will when you do.”
    Tim has deposited two cookies on each of my knees. Both vanilla Oreos, which to me is an insult to standard Oreos everywhere, but they’re still making my mouth water. Even so, it doesn’t seem right. I can go a week without food if I have to. The boys can’t.
    â€œI’m not hungry.”
    Colin lifts an eyebrow.
    â€œI had a huge dinner last night.”
    â€œIn the airport?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œ
While
you were sprinting to the gate, or before?”
    The flush in my face settles somewhere along the span of my collarbone. “I can wait a while longer,” I say. “Really.”
    â€œEat those cookies, at least.”
    Liam’s been ogling them with hungry eyes, but even he backs off at the sound of Colin’s stern tone.
    â€œOnly if you have a chip.”
    â€œDeal.”
    I start with the cookie on my left knee. It’s dry and crisp and delicious. Maybe I’m coming around on the vanilla Oreo thing.
    Colin eats a soggy chip. The bag must have punctured in the water, and the contents look more like chip soup than a tasty snack.
    He pops another one into his mouth. “Mmm. Delicious.”
    Aayu laughs. Liam holds out his hand. “Can I have one?”
    Before long, Colin has given away the rest of his chip soup. He spins a fantasy for the boys—of feasts and cozy kitchens and McDonald’s. Once he starts talking about Happy Meals, it’s all over. The boys can’t get enough. I don’t know how he does this—how he gives these children hope without