Are We There Yet? Read Free Page A

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    “You're the greatest,” Elijah announces. And he means it. Because he knows the bakery, he can see his mother holding the number in her hand, hoping against hope that they'll have blueberry, because that's his favorite.
    Mrs. Silver blushes. Danny gazes intently at a newsstand.
    “I need to buy gum,” he says.
    “Oh, I have gum.” Mrs. Silver's purse is opened in a flash.
    “Yeah,
sugarless.
I don't want sugarless. I'll just go get some Juicy Fruit, okay?”
    “Oh,” Mrs. Silver sighs. “Do you need money?”
    Danny smiles. “I think I can afford a pack of gum, Mom.” Then he's off, dropping his bag at Elijah's feet.
    “I'll take some Trident,” Elijah offers.
    Mrs. Silver rummages again and unearths a blue pack and a green pack.
    “Sorry, no red,” she says with a smile as she hands the gum over.
    “No problem. Thanks.” Elijah tucks the gum into his pocket. He doesn't like either blue or green, but he doesn't mind taking it. Someone else on the plane might want some.
    While Danny buys his gum (and newspapers and Advil and a hardcover legal thriller), Elijah asks about his father's leg, and she tells him it's getting better. He thanks her again for the trip—he is
sure
it's going to be great, there are
so many
things he wants to see. She thinks his hair is a little too long, but doesn't say anything. (The telltale look at his collar gives her away.)
    “So are we ready?” Danny is back.
    “Ready as we'll never be,” Elijah replies. Danny's tie is caught in his shoulder-bag strap. Elijah is inordinately pleased by this.

There's an issue that has to be resolved immediately. Danny, bearer of the tickets, brings it up as soon as he and Elijah are through security.
    “So,” he asks, “do you want the window seat or the middle seat?”
    “Up to you.”
    Of course. Danny knew this was going to happen. Clearly, the window seat is preferable to the middle seat. And politeness decrees that whoever chooses first will have to choose the middle seat. Elijah
must
know this. Typical Elijah. He
seems
so kind. But really, he is passive-aggressive.
    (
“Why can't you be more like your brother?”
his parents would ask when he was seventeen.
    “Because he's ten!”
Danny would shout before slamming his door closed.)
    “You don't have any preference?” Danny asks. “None whatsoever?”
    Elijah shrugs. “Whatever you want. I'm just going to sleep.”
    “But wouldn't it be easier for you to have the window seat, then?” Danny continues, a little too urgently.
    “It's no big deal. I'll take the middle seat if you want me to.”
    Great. Now Elijah is the martyr. Danny can't stand it when Elijah plays the martyr. But if it gets him the window seat …
    “Fine. You can have the middle seat.”
    “Thanks.”
    At the gate, they have to cool their heels for almost an hour. Danny is bothered despite his desire not to be bothered. (Itbothers him even more to be bothered against his will.) Elijah reads a British music magazine and listens to his headphones. Because Elijah slumps in his seat, Danny doesn't realize they're now the same height. All he notices is Elijah's ragged haircut, the small silver hoop piercing the top of his earlobe.
    Danny tries to read the book he bought, but it doesn't work.He is too distracted.Not only because he's bothered.He is slowly crossing over. He is realizing for the first time that, yes, he is about to go to Italy. Every trip has this time—the shift into happening
.
Before things can go badly or go well, there is always the first moment when expectation turns to
now
.
    Danny relaxes a little. He puts away his book and takes out his
Fodor's Venice.
Minutes later, there is a call for boarding. Danny gathers his things for pre-boarding. Elijah pointedly makes them wait until their row is called.
    “You're sure you don't want the window seat?” Danny asks as they walk the ramp to the plane.
    “Not unless you want the middle seat,” Elijah answers.
    Danny waves the subject