The engines had not started, yet Mina felt the floor beneath her change. The man no longer looked annoyed. He looked interested, which was worse.
"Why?" she asked.
At the far end of the cabin, a woman struggled to lift a rolling suitcase. Mina stood halfway before remembering that the aisle was crowded and that she might only make things worse. Sana noticed and helped the woman secure her bag. It was a small incident, but Mina watched how the attendant asked permission before touching the case and explained what she was doing. Authority, she thought, could sound like that too: a question rather than an order. She wished every adult had learned the difference.
Instead of answering, he reached slowly for his phone.
CHAPTER TWO
A Name On The Manifest
Mina had spent enough time with adults to recognize the moment when a question was really a demand. The man in 2E held his phone low, hiding the screen under his palm. Whatever he typed, he did not want her to read it.
"You know my dad?" Mina asked again.
"Possibly. Seattle's a small world in certain industries." He adjusted his cuffs. "Conrad Vale."
The name meant nothing to her. He seemed offended by that. When Sana passed with a tray of water, Vale stopped her and asked whether there was a protocol for verifying the identity of minors traveling alone in premium cabins. His eyes stayed on Mina as he spoke.
"We verified Miss Torres's documents at check-in and boarding," Sana said. "As we do for every passenger."
"I'm merely being vigilant."
"Then thank you for your concern. She's exactly where she belongs."
Ruth Bell watched the exchange with a tight expression. When Sana moved on, she leaned across the aisle. "When I was a school librarian," she told Mina, "there was always one parent who asked for special rules when their child lost a game. I've never met one who outgrew it."
Mina smiled despite herself. She opened Common Ground on her tablet, checking that the demonstration would run without internet. It used an offline copy of local reports, which was important because shelters sometimes lost connectivity during storms. Her teacher, Ms. Dawes, had made her practice explaining every screen as though the judges had never seen a computer.
A notification appeared from her father: ON THE PLANE? She sent him a photograph of the wing and the rainy gray tarmac. He responded with a thumbs-up and the words: Remember to drink water. No speech was too big for a dry throat.
She hesitated, then typed: Weird guy in the seat beside me. Asked about you. His name is Conrad Vale.
The answer did not come immediately.
Mina glanced toward 2E. Vale was studying her reflection in the dark window. The cabin was filling with soft conversations, the click of storage bins, the rustle of jackets. Farther back, someone was explaining to a toddler why airplanes did not have bedrooms. The ordinary sounds should have reassured her. Instead, she remembered how her father sometimes lowered his voice when someone from his old career called the house.
His reply arrived: Don't tell him anything about me. Ask a flight attendant to move you if you're uncomfortable. Call me before takeoff.
The words were unlike his usual messages. Adrian was a man who used too many exclamation points to ask whether Mina wanted peaches. She tapped the call button on her phone. It rang once, then twice, then connected.
"Hey, starshine," he said, but his voice had no smile in it. "Is he bothering you?"
"Not exactly. He was rude. Then he asked your name. Who is Conrad Vale?"
There was a small silence. She heard a door close on his end.
"Someone I worked with a long time ago."
"At the airline?"
"At a company that worked for one." Adrian took a breath. "Listen, Mina. There's no reason for you to be involved in anything between adults. Tell the attendant you need a different seat."
"Why would I do that? It's my seat."
"Because I want you safe."
She looked around the cabin. Nothing appeared dangerous. People were unwrapping mints and finding charging cables. Vale sat motionless beside her, listening openly now.
"Dad," she said more quietly, "what happened?"
"Not on the phone. Not there. I should have told you more about my old work, and that's my mistake. I'll explain when you land."
The captain's welcome announcement interrupted them. A woman named Naomi Shaw spoke from the cockpit, calm and precise, describing their expected flight time and weather over the Great Lakes. At the mention of the captain's name, Adrian made a sound Mina had never heard from him before. It was halfway between surprise and pain.
"What?" she asked.
"Captain Shaw? Are you certain?"