As Far as the Stars

He grinned in that goofy way he had that made me feel warm and happy and like everything was good with the world.

‘For ever? It won’t be for ever, Air.’

‘So why are you taking a holdall?’

‘In case.’

‘In case what?’

‘In case I need some of my stuff.’

I sat up taller. ‘People don’t need their stuff if they’re coming back quickly.’

‘Just cover for me, Air – will you do that?’

‘What if Mom goes into your room and finds out that you’re not there?’

He tilted his head to one side. The gel in his hair had worn off, so long dark strands fell into his eyes.

‘You’re the smart one in the family, Air, you’ll find a way to cover for me.’

Then he kissed the top of my head and walked off to my window – the one that had access to the street below.

‘You are coming back, aren’t you?’ I asked.

I was worried that one day Blake would go so far that he’d get lost – or decide that coming back was too much hassle. He loved Mom and Dad and Jude and me but that didn’t mean he was going to live with us for ever. And he didn’t like DC. Blake was always going on about how he couldn’t wait to be eighteen, how then he could do anything he wanted.

When his body was halfway out of the window, he turned around and smiled:

‘For you little sis?’ He smiled. ‘I’ll always come back.’

He blew me a kiss then pulled his guitar case and holdall through the window.

‘And even if I don’t –’ he went on.

I leapt out of bed, ran up to the window and leant out. ‘Even if you don’t? What’s that’s supposed to mean?’

He put his fingers under my chin and tilted my face up to the sky.

‘They’re always there, right?’

It was a clear night so although the light pollution in DC was bad, the sky still looked amazing: like someone had pierced a thousand holes in the black canopy of the sky letting the light that lived behind it shine through.

‘Yeah, they’re always there.’

‘Well, so am I – like your stars.’

‘My stars?’

He nodded.

Blake knew how much I loved them, even then.

When I was nine years old, I’d thought that was a wonderful thing to say: that he’d always be with me, because the stars were always with us too. But when I got older and understood about how old the stars were and the whole light years–distance thing – and the fact that it’s basically impossible to measure the distance between us and the stars – I realised that what he told me that night wasn’t anywhere close to wonderful. He was basically telling me that even if I could still see him, he might be millions of light years away.

Nothing’s been confirmed yet.

Any moment now I might get a text from Blake saying that he got a flight to Nashville after all. Which means that he’ll make it for the family breakfast – that it’ll just be me who misses it. Which won’t be a big deal.

Or that he was late for the flight and got onto one that’s arriving later. Which, depending on his arrival time, will at least give us enough time to get to Nashville for the rehearsal dinner.

Whatever happens, we’d be there for the wedding. And, in the end, that’s all that matters.

Or that bald UKFlyer guy who’s in charge of keeping us up to date will tell us that the plane’s back on radar, that air traffic control got it wrong, and that the UKFlyer0217 has landed. That the passengers are coming through passport control and that, in a few minutes, they’ll be with us.

‘Can I borrow your phone?’

Leda’s head shoots up from my lap. She thumps her tail against my thigh so hard that I put my hand on it to press it down.

I look up too. He’s standing there, the pale, tangle-haired, paper-folding guy. And he’s staring at me, his eyes wide behind his tortoiseshell glasses.

‘My mobile’s out of charge,’ he explains.

Yeah, he definitely sounds English, like Mom and our relatives back in the UK. Mom’s got a bit of a Scottish lilt because that’s where she lived until she was ten and all her family come from there, but mostly she sounds English.

The guy adjusts his glasses and keeps staring at me.

‘Sure.’ I hand him my cell, relieved that I don’t have to keep looking at Mom’s messages popping up.

When he starts swiping at the screen, I notice that his fingers are shaking.

I’ve been so swept up with thinking about my family and the wedding and what’s going to happen in the next forty-eight hours if Blake doesn’t show up, that I kind of forgot that all these people around me are also waiting for news about those they came to collect. Blake could be anywhere right now, but they know that their loved ones are on the plane. And maybe they don’t have families like ours – or moms like our mom – to hold them all together.

While he’s using my phone, I look past him at a TV screen on the far side of the room. And then I notice some of the people who’ve been waiting with us, getting to their feet and turning to look at it too.

Which makes the guy look up from my cell and turn to the TV screen as well.

It’s the ABC news feed that’s been on this whole time with weather reports and the latest from the Yankees– Red Sox game and details about tomorrow’s eclipse.

Except none of those things are on the screen.

Instead, there’s a grainy picture. It keeps wobbling out of focus: a large piece of metal, floating on the sea.

Chapter Five (#ulink_37b6ee52-846d-5302-9931-159182a19e17)

15.37 EST

It’s when I see that bit of grainy footage on ABC News that I know for sure.