Carpe Diem by Autumn Cornwell Read Free Book Online Page A

climates.”
    If Dad was suspicious, he didn’t let on.
    â€œA couple hundred dollars is a small price to pay to ensure you’ll be prepared for every emergency,” Dad said as— zip zip! —I tucked the claim tickets into the money belt under my blouse.
    Then Dad handed me a rectangular wrapped gift. “For the plane.”

    As I unwrapped it, Dad whispered to me, “Please send only positive emails and postcards. I don’t think Althea could handle even the faintest hint that you’re not happy. Of course, if there’s an emergency—God forbid—that’s another story.”
    During the last two weeks, Mom and Dad had experienced a complete role reversal. He was now taking charge, and she was happy to let him. It unsettled me.
    â€œ The Efficient Teen—Special Annotated Edition. Thanks, Dad.” Actually, the book could prove a liability since I was supposed to stay awake as long as possible on the flight to prevent jet lag.
    Â 
    All too soon we were at Gate 24. I secured the locks on my carry-on bag and my laptop case-slash-briefcase combo, then double-checked that my money belt was zipped.
    Mom tucked something into my hand. “International calling card. Because your PTP cell phone may not work over there. Call us if anything— anything —happens. Promise?”
    â€œPromise.”
    â€œNervous?” asked Dad, his pale blue eyes starting to water.
    I kissed his freckled cheek. “I’m prepared. As you’ve always said, preparation eliminates anxiety. Why would I be nervous?” But inside, my stomach whirled like his motorized tie rack.
    Dad popped a couple Tums. Mom gulped down one of her new pills when she thought I wasn’t looking.

    â€œSingapore Airlines Flight 273 to Singapore now boarding … .”
    Group hug. I kissed the top of Mom’s blond bob and Dad’s red fuzz—then broke away quickly. Time to get it over with. Couldn’t let Mom see me get emotional.
    I handed the flight attendant my boarding pass and refused to look back as I walked down the gangplank to the plane. Their sad, pensive faces were too much to take.
    Their voices echoed after me:
    â€œRemember to do those isometric exercises in your seat!”
    â€œApply sunscreen at least fifteen minutes before sun exposure!”
    â€œTake your vitamin C packets hourly!”
    â€œDon’t forget you’re a Spore!”
    They were just being parent-y. Showing me they were “fine.”
    â€œMask!”
    Ah, yes. The white surgical face mask to cover my nose and mouth. “You can’t take chances with your health, especially on planes, those virtual war zones of airborne germs,” Mom had said. And had instructed me to wear it the entire time on the plane. “You’ll have the last laugh when you arrive in Singapore flu-free.”
    Oh, there’d be laughs, all right—mocking laughs from the flight attendants and fellow passengers. The face mask was buried deep in my carry-on. And there it would stay. What Mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

    Just as I walked through the airplane door, Mom’s last words pierced the air:
    â€œWe love you— no matter what! ”
    Â 
    I sat next to a goateed businessman wearing a brick-red tie and a blue button-down shirt with MCT embroidered on the pocket. He was drinking a beer and reading a newspaper—which he folded up the second I fastened my safety belt.
    â€œHi! First time to Singapore? My seventeenth. Ah, yes, the privilege (or is it a curse? Ha-ha!) of the field service engineer in the global semiconductor industry. Heard of semiconductors? No? Well, you should. There’s a semiconductor in that laptop of yours. See this?” He pointed to his tie tack, which was a shiny metal-and-copper square. “This little beauty here is what makes all your electrical components work … .”
    He proceeded to regale me with the entire