Broken Wings 2 - Midnight Flight, Andrews, C. [classic books for 10 year olds .TXT] 📗

for any trips since I was to go to court for hitting a boy named Skip Lester with a small desktop statue when he, Ashley, and the other boys had all ganged up on me. Girls from my new school tricked me into joining what they called a sting operation to permit the police to arrest Ashley, who had been spreading stories about them and me. He was going to be arrested for selling and using drugs. Of course, the girls were in cahoots with Ashley and his friends to trap me and have fun with me. I still couldn't explain why I was so stupid and gullible enough to believe them. That's how youget when you're so desperate to have friends. You can have only one friend, I concluded, yourself.

The state policeman who picked me up at Mama's clinic dropped me off at a roadside diner to meet my uncle Buster. I thought my uncle was just going to bawl me out without my aunt being present and then he was going to take me home. Instead, he left me there to be taken to what he called some special school for troubled teenagers like me, girls whose parents and guardians could no longer contend with them and their problems.

No one wanted to listen to my side of things, especially my aunt and my uncle. My uncle didn't even have the courage to tell me what he had secretly arranged to take place at the diner. He tricked and betrayed me. I went to the bathroom and when I came out, he was gone and so was my suitcase.

A man and a woman came for me in an ambulance, and when I resisted, they stuck a needle in my arm and gave me something that made me dizzy and confused. I passed out as I was being loaded into the ambulance. That was the last thing I remembered.

And that was what my aunt and uncle had done to me, and I was supposed to be the bad one in the family?

Now, here I was alone in this strange plane. Had I died? Had they given me something to kill me? Was this how people were really transported to the other world?

“Hey! Anyone! Please,” I screamed. “Someone, help me!”

I twisted and pulled and tried to kick the seat. Frustrated and frightened, I went numb inside and the tears in my brain flooded and washed my screams onto my face.

Still, no one responded. I gazed out the window at the wing and the engine. It was twilight, that time when the earth became a giant sponge and absorbed all the light around it. The dark sky lying in wait came rushing in behind like a black velvet ocean. I saw some stars appear. Their growing brightness comforted me until we flew into a wall of puffy, gray clouds that whirled about like so much smoke.

Every nerve in my body grew tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. My throat was so dry and my shoulders ached, the fingers of pain stretching down from the base of my neck. I continued to struggle against the straps, but they were too thick and too securely fastened. All I was doing by struggling was irritating my skin. Helpless, I relaxed and closed my eyes, trying to keep a lid on my boiling rage. Whoever had done this to me was going to be sorry, I vowed. As soon as they unfastened these belts, they'd see. How dare they take my clothing and put me in this rag and these ugly stockings and shoes!

As best as I could, I wiggled my fingers and explored what I was wearing beneath. It felt like ... like a diaper, firm as plastic on the outside like one of those special undergarments women who have bladder trouble wear.

What was going on? Who dared to undress me? Was someone playing some sick joke on me? How long have I been on this plane? Where was I being taken? I thought 1 was going to some school. Why wasn't there anyone else with me? What if something terrible had happened to me? What if I was being kidnapped to become someone's slave? Who would know? Would that satisfy my uncle and aunt? All they cared about was getting rid of me. Whatever happened to me wasn't important.

As I thought of these things, the rage began to boil over again. I tried to turn and press my body against the straps in hope of breaking loose, but nothing helped. They felt woven of steel thread. Beads of sweat popped out on the back of my neck and my forehead because of my efforts. It was another futile attempt. I was just wasting my energy, energy I might need the moment I was finally released.

Inside, my stomach was churning, grinding rocks of frustration into sand. I closed my eyes and, taking deep breaths, again tried desperately to calm myself.

“Get hold of yourself, Phoebe Elder,” I muttered. “Easy. You'll get out of this soon. You've been in worse places.”

No, I haven't, I thought.

I opened my eyes and looked at the closed cockpit door. Why wasn't anyone at least interested enough to see if I had regained consciousness?

“Damn you!” I screamed. I could feel the veins in my neck becoming embossed in my skin. I shouted and then just released a long, animal cry of pain.

As if my scream affected the plane, it bounced and then dropped. I balled my fingers into fists and pressed them against my sides, gasping. What was happening now? Were we crashing? The plane bounced again and again and then rattled. Looking out the window, I saw how we dropped lower and lower until we were out of the clouds. Way off in the distance, I could see the lights of some small city, but other than that, the landscape was dark, just like that pool of ink out of which I had imagined myself rising.

The plane continued to descend. Finally,