Unaccompanied Minor by Hollis Gillespie Read Free Book Online Page A

assignments.” The next one due, I told him, was a thousand-word composition on the five people I admire the most. “Isn’t that corny?” I asked. He did not answer.
    I’d recently read in a discarded
Atlanta Business Chronicle
that the Atlanta online school option arose as a response to the fact that the state of Georgia stands about five spots below slug farts when it comes to education in our country, while at the same time becoming one of the fastest growing business markets. So when an influx of professionals moved to Atlanta, they didn’t want to enroll their kids in the existing schools that regularly failed the mandated competency requirements, so
boom!
, instant online academy. Problem solved for everybody but kids like me, because now parents were totally unobligated to maintain a stable location; now they could just divorce and move anywhere, willy-nilly, placing all the onus on the kid to be flexible. Case in point: Ash and Elizabeth Manning. I was paraphrasing and surmising, and I admit I was jaded about this subject, so maybe my experience wasn’t universal.
    “Wow,” Officer Ned said, backing away from me a bit.
I really need to work on my social skills
, I thought. It’s not a good sign when someone instinctively inches closer to a known criminal after you go off on a little rant.
    “So what about you?” I chirped. Perkiness was new to me, but I did my best.
    “Typical story,” he sulked, sipping his water.
    “Did you ever kill anybody?”
    “Not today,” he said dryly. “Yet.”
    “Har har,” I said, watching him put the plastic cup to his lips. I could have sworn he did it to conceal a smile beginning to curl at his lips.
My ploy is working
, I thought,
I’m charming
.
    “My name is April,” I told him. “What’s yours?”
    “Officer Edward Rockwell,” he said, placing emphasis on the word “officer.” After a pregnant pause he added, “But you can call me Officer Ned.”
    “Awesome,” I said. “So, really, Officer Ned, seriously, did you ever kill anyone? And what caliber is the gun you’re packing? And do you wanna see how I can escape from handcuffs?”
    “Please,” he said, rubbing his temples, “be quiet.”
    Then the captain announced our final approach. The passengers were told to put their seatbacks forward and tray tables upright to prepare for landing, and the flight attendants made their way down the aisle to point out bags that needed to be stowed. Officer Ned stood to put his carry-on in the compartment above him, and his prisoner, who’d been sleeping open-mouthed and fogging up the cabin with his halitosis hoosegow breath most of the flight, suddenly popped up and claimed to be in dire need of a toilet. I guess it was understandable, since he’d been boxed in for five hours.
    “Seriously, man,” he pleaded, “my gut is percolating like a pressure cooker. If you don’t let me go now, it’s not gonna be pretty.”
    Truthfully, I was hoping Officer Ned would let him go to the lav, because he had a complexion the color of concrete and looked to be experiencing drug withdrawals. In the flight attendant manual there’s a section on this in the chapter on first aid, and I was worried this guy would start spewing out of every orifice like a busted beer keg. Officer Ned must have had the same thought, because he stepped aside and let the prisoner, still handcuffed, run to the rear of the plane just as the wheels touched the tarmac.
    The flight attendant in the rear jumpseat looked really put out for having to unstrap himself and stand in order to fold up his seat so the prisoner could open the door of the lavatory. Rather than reassume his jumpseat, the flight attendant moved into the pocket galley a few rows up and closed the curtain so he could finish texting in peace. This left the flight attendant at midcabin to admonish everyone else to stay seated, because often when one person jumps up on taxi everyone else takes it as a cue to follow suit.
    “Ladies