Petal's Problems (7 page)

"Where are we? Where are we?" we all said, blinking around in that startled way people do when they wake in unfamiliar surroundings.

We blinked around some more and turned on the overhead reading lights and pushed up the little plastic shutters so we could see out our little airplane windows.

But it was all darkness, with nothing to see out there but the blinking red lights on the wings of the plane.

Some of us suspected that the darkness meant we were flying over an ocean. We don't know why we thought this, but it made sense to us at the time.

Then the scream came again, and we realized it was Petal screaming.

A moment later we realized that for once she had something to scream about.

SEVEN

Pete the mechanic unbuckled his seat belt and was out of his chair and at Petal's side quicker than we had ever imagined a man with weight hanging over the top of his jeans could move.

"Petal, what's wrong?" he asked.

Then Mrs. Pete, moving quickly, was there too.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked, crouching down beside Petal.

"No!" Petal cried. "We're not going to France after all ... and I'm scared!"

"I can't believe you woke us all up for this." Rebecca was cross. "Of course we're going to France. We're in a plane and that's where we're headed."

"No, we're not," Petal said. "I heard...
him.
"

"Him?" Annie echoed.

"Who did you hear?" Durinda asked gently.

"Oh no," Georgia said. "Petal's starting to hear voices. She must finally have gone completely around the bend."

"Fear can do that to a person," Marcia said wisely. "There have been scientific studies."

"I hope her cat doesn't go crazy too," Zinnia said. "Being crazy would be very hard on poor Precious."

"I didn't hear voices in my head," Petal said, sounding impatient with us. "I heard that man. The man behind the door."

She pointed, and we all followed her finger toward the front of the plane.

"That's the cockpit," Jackie said. "Do you mean the pilot?"

"Yes." Petal nodded fearfully. "Yes, that's it."

"But that's impossible," Pete said. "That door is steel and it's very thick."

"I don't think you could have heard him talking through that, dear," Mrs. Pete said gently. Then her eyes brightened, as though she'd just gotten a good idea. "Did he maybe speak over the intercom? And perhaps the rest of us didn't hear because we were so sound asleep?"

"No!" It was very rare for Petal to be so impatient, particularly with an adult, but she was now. "I didn't hear him talking to someone else. And I didn't hear him over the intercom." She paused, then went on, sounding terrified yet insistent. "
I heard the voice in his head!
"

In most families, if one of their members started talking about hearing voices in other people's heads, that person would probably get locked away somewhere.

But we weren't like most families, never had been, and even Georgia, who'd talked about Petal finally going around the bend, could see that such a thing might be significant.

"What was his voice saying?" Pete asked urgently.

"It said, 'I'm changing direction on this plane.'" Petal paused. "He spoke with a funny accent, although I guess sometimes we do too, but I couldn't place his. And then he said, 'I need to get back to Italia,
pronto.
'"

"What does that mean?" Rebecca asked. "
Italia
and
pronto?
I only speak Spanish, you see."

"You speak English too," Georgia said. "In fact, you're doing that now."

"It means 'Italy' and 'fast,'" Pete said, straightening up. "It also means I need to get to the bottom of this."

He strode manfully toward the front of the cabin.

"Oh no!" Petal cried. "I can't go to Italy! I've only just recently wrapped my mind around going to France. If I have to wrap my mind around a different country now, I'll go crazy!"

"I think you already are," Rebecca said.

"That's not helpful," Annie said sharply to Rebecca.

Now Pete was pounding on the cockpit door, and the flight attendant was rushing over to him.

"You can't go in there, sir," he said, trying to restrain Pete.

"You think that, do you?" Pete said mildly. "Well, watch me."

Then Pete proceeded to pound on the door some more, shouting, "Oh, Captain! My captain! You'd better get out here and explain yourself!"

"Please get back in your seat, sir!" the flight attendant ordered Pete, to no avail.

Pete kept pounding and yelling, "Oh, Captain! My captain!" and a moment later, the cockpit door flew open.

The pilot stood there in the doorway, hair wild and tie loose.

"How may I help you,
signore?
"

Petal was right. He did have a funny accent. Until that moment, we'd still been thinking that there was a good chance Petal was wrong and that maybe she really was crazy.

But hang on.

Petal could hear the voices in other people's heads?

We didn't have time just then to think on what that could mean in general, or what it could mean specifically for us, because Pete had started talking rapidly to the pilot, who was talking just as rapidly back, making wild gestures with his hands all the while.

There was just one problem.

We couldn't understand a word they were saying.

"What language is that?" Annie wondered.

"I don't know," Marcia said. "Maybe Italian? That would make sense since they do both keep saying
Italia.
"

We were stunned.

Pete was bilingual?

"Pete's bilingual?" Jackie said aloud.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Pete said proudly. "In fact, he's decalingual. He can speak ten languages, and just last week he said he wanted to start on Chinese."

Huh.

Who knew?

In his own way, Pete was definitely a man of mystery.

And now he was doing something really mysterious. He was accepting rope from the flight attendant—we hadn't heard him ask for rope, but maybe he'd asked in Italian?—and using it to tie the pilot's hands behind his back.

What was going on here?

The other passengers—and there
were
other passengers on that plane with us, although we kept forgetting all about them—had so far taken everything that had happened in stride. But something about seeing the pilot with his hands tied behind his back proved too much for them.

Come to think of that, it proved too much for us too.

"Who's flying the plane?" Petal shrieked in a panic.

Pete ignored that as he addressed the cabin.

"I'm sorry, folks, but there will be a brief delay in our arriving to France. You see, the pilot here thought he'd make a slight detour ... to Italy."

"I only wanted to visit my
mamma
," the pilot said sadly.

"You mean we were being hijacked?" Rebecca said. Then she turned and punched Petal in the shoulder. "Why didn't you say something about hearing voices sooner?"

"I think
hijacked
is too harsh a word," Pete said. "More like a detour. Poor Guido here simply wanted to visit his
mamma.
"

"
Sì,
" Pilot Guido said. "It is her birthday, and the airline wouldn't give me any time off."

"Aw." The entire plane heaved a sympathetic sigh. Who couldn't understand someone wanting to see his mother so much on her birthday that he'd be willing to resort to superhuman efforts to get there?

We could certainly understand that. We'd been without a mother for nearly six months now, and we'd love to see her on her birthday. We'd love to see her again any day.

"Yes, I know," Pete agreed. "It is very sad that Pilot Guido can't be with his
mamma
on her birthday, but surely you can see now why he must be restrained for the time being and why he can't be trusted to fly the plane, at least not tonight."

Petal raised her hand timidly, as though we were in class back at the Whistle Stop.

"Excuse me? Mr. Pete?" she called out softly when he failed to notice her increasingly wildly waving hand.

"Yes, Petal?"

"If the pilot's out here and he's, er, all tied up..." Petal paused, gestured to the open cockpit door. "Then who's flying the plane? Come to think of it, who's
been
flying the plane since you dragged Pilot Guido out here? Because, you see, I've been trying very hard to concentrate, and I don't hear any voices coming from in there, not a single one at all, so—"

"Oh! Right!" Pete said, thrusting the bound pilot in the general direction of the flight attendant. "I knew I was forgetting something."

Then Pete rushed into the cockpit, the door flapping but remaining open behind him.

We all craned our necks into the aisle so we could see what was going on, and what we saw was Pete assuming the pilot's seat and fiddling with the control panel of the plane.

"What's he doing?" Zinnia asked in a hushed voice.

Georgia's eyes were round as saucers. "I think he's going to fly the plane!"

Eight heads swiveled in Mrs. Pete's direction.

"Can he do that?" Annie demanded. "Does he know how to fly a plane?"

"Why not?" Mrs. Pete said. "After all, you learned how to drive a car."

"Yes, I know," Annie said, "but I do think flying a plane might be a bit more complicated than that."

Mrs. Pete shrugged. "He read a book on it once, I think. He'll figure it out. He has to."

"Don't they usually have copilots on these things?" Marcia wondered. "I'm sure they do."

"Must be a low-budget operation," Rebecca said darkly.

Before we could think further on this, Pilot Pete spoke to us over the intercom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "I've readjusted our flight pattern, and we are once again on target for France."

A cry of "Yay!" went up within the cabin.

Well, except for poor Pilot Guido.

"Now, before I go back to flying the plane," Pete said, "I'd just like everyone here to know that, while I can't tell you quite how she did it, we would all be in Italy soon were it not for passenger Petal Huit. Not that there's anything generally wrong with going to Italy, but it's no good if you're supposed to be in France. So how about a big round of applause for passenger Petal."

The plane cheered and clapped.

Petal blushed.

Then we all settled back, content to let Pete do what he did best: save us.

Even Petal was peaceful for once, but it lasted for only a minute.

"Oh no!" she cried. "I got my power! But I don't want my power! Take it back! Take it back! I don't want to be able to read other people's minds!"

Some of us weren't sure we wanted her to be able to do that either.

"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick!" Petal cried. Then she reached into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of her, probably hoping to find an airsickness bag.

But what her hand pulled out wasn't an airsickness bag at all. It was a note.

We'd seen notes like this one before, but they were usually found behind a loose stone in our drawing room back home.

With trembling hands, Petal held the note and read.

Dear Petal,

Eleven down, five to go. Try not to worry too much!

As always, the note was unsigned.

Petal fainted then, of course, leaving the rest of us to wonder:

How did the person who usually left the notes for us at home manage to get one to us on a plane?

What a magical invisible person!

EIGHT

When the plane touched down in France, we looked out our windows and saw that morning was just dawning.

We'd left one country when the sun was setting and arrived in another one with a new day just starting. This struck us as odd, but then we just figured that maybe air travel was like that.

We also thought that it felt like it had taken forever for us to get here, but then we further figured that maybe the point of things wasn't just the destination; maybe the journey counted for something too.

Aunt Martha and Uncle George were waiting there to greet us inside the airport terminal.

We studied these relatives we hadn't seen for a very long time.

Funny, we thought. Aunt Martha, Daddy's sister, always worried that everything she wore made her look fat, and yet she wasn't fat at all—not that there'd be anything wrong with it if she were. She certainly wasn't model thin, but she was tall and regular thin, and even pretty, with black hair and gray eyes.