The Flight

• Hank Roberts, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2022

The Flight
I open my eyes from a prolonged slumber and peer at my alarm clock.
It reads: 7: AM. My flight leaves at eight! Take off is way too soon! My brain comprehends these numbers and I leap out of bed. I start packing. It takes thirty minutes to drive to the airport, fifteen minutes to get to the plane.
Fifteen minutes! That’s all the time I have to pack! I’d better start.

I almost wet my pants with excitement, because this is the day I go to the place of my dreams. Hawaii! I start tossing things into my suitcase. I’m slightly manic.
“Toothbrush, pants, undies… and how can I forget my camera?” I pack essentials, then snap the bag closed and shoot down the stairs, faster than a lightning bolt!
“See you kids. I’ll be back in a week!” I scream, louder than rocket launch.


Oh no, the car is locked. Keys! I speed back into the house; the clock on the wall reads 7.10. Fifty minutes till take off. I search the home, and finally look into the key bowl. Empty. I’m distracted by a bright shimmer on the window sill. ‘Oooh’ I think excitedly ‘A dollar? – oh no, just my keys…’
“Oh yeah, keys. I need those,” I shout, “Let’s go.”
I zip towards the door again. RIIIIIIIP! I forgot to open the screen door. But I run so fast I crash straight through it. No time to fix it. Keep going.

Time check: 7:15am: Forty-five minutes till take off.
I drive out of the street. My foot punches the accelerator to the floor.
‘Splutter!’ screams the engine. It begs helplessly for me to stop. I keep driving, faster now. Low fuel.
“Less is more,” my mum always said. That may not be true for fuel. I drive into the station, hurriedly. I fill my tank with diesel, pay at the pump, and squeal my tyres as I drive away. I arrive at the airport.
Time Check: 7:47am. Thirteen minutes till take off.

I will have to get through security like a flash if I want to get on that plane. Hawaii waits for me. I run towards the automatic doors.
Donk!
The door rattles from the impact of my hit. The sensor hasn’t seen me. I wave my arms around like one of those inflatable people at a car yard. It opens and I rush through. I zip through security.
Time Check: 7:57am: Three minutes till take off. I approach the gates, frazzled. The attendant looks at me with pity.
“Mondays? Am I r-?” she says.
“Mondays?... Mondays?” I interrupt, rudely. I look down at my ticket: Tuesday 18th May 2021.
“Umm, could you please clarify the date for me?” I ask, mystified.
“It is Monday, the 18th of May,” she huffs, annoyed that I interrupt.
“Argh!” I yell. My flight leaves tomorrow.
I look up at the clock, disappointed, and sigh deeply.
It reads: 8am. 24 hours till take off.


I guess.