Monstrum Read Free

terror. Planes and boats have disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle.
    Or were those only urban legends?
    Right now, looking out at the black sky, the legends don’t seem so ridiculous after all.
    â€œShut your superstitious trap and sit quietly before I decide to give you detention for the rest of the semester, Axel Hendersen,” Murphy snaps.
    Axel shuts up.
    The flight attendants, a male and a female, materialize from somewhere in the rear of the smallish jet and hurry up the aisle. Our American history teacher, Mr. Stroh, is grim-faced and hot on their heels, and I remember that he’s also an EMT. I wish I was. Sitting, waiting and feeling useless aren’t things I’m particularly good at, and I worked as a lifeguard at my pool last summer, which means I’m certified in CPR.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I ask quickly as they pass, with no real hope for an answer.
    â€œNothing to worry about,” says the female without breaking stride or looking my way, and then they all disappear through the curtain divider that leads to the cockpit beyond.
    â€œWell, then,” I mutter. “I feel better already.”
    Gray snorts and thumps my arm with his fist. “Just wait,” he murmurs. “Don’t get yourself worked up. I know how you are.”
    Which is his diplomatic way of saying he’s seen me in the midst of one of my panic attacks (during winter finals, if you must know), and doesn’t want a repeat.
    I nod, take a steadying breath and try to follow his advice.
    â€œForget the weather,” says a whiny new voice. It’s Esperanza Torres. A slice of her pretty face appears between the seat backs directly in front of us. “What about the food service?”
    â€œWow,” I say. “Clueless much?”
    A bit of Macy Sparks’s face—also pretty—appears next to Espi’s. “What’s the big deal?”
    â€œI know, right?” Espi says. “The sky’s dark. Big deal. The plane’s still flying along just fine.” She shrugs, like that’s the end of it.
    â€œYeah, but
why
?” I ask. “Aren’t you worried that the pilot may be sick? And what about the weather? Is it some ocean tornado coming or—”
    â€œWho knows?” Espi flaps a manicured hand at me. “You all chew on that. I’ll chew on these chips.”
    With that, she rattles a couple small bags of potato chips in my direction before passing one to Macy.
    Now is so not the time for these two clowns. “You do that, Esp. And when you’re done with those, drink your little juice box. I’m sure your mommy packed one for you.” I jab my thumb over my shoulder toward the back of the plane, where Espi’s mother is sitting. “The rest of us will talk about more important things, like whether there’s been a nuclear strike.”
    Espi and Macy frown at me and disappear into their seats again.
    We settle into an expectant silence for a few seconds. There’s still no sign of the flight attendants, and the sky is scarier than ever.
    The darkness outside feels like it’s seeping into the cabin, closing in on us. This hint of claustrophobia gives my anxiety just the kick-start it needs, and I obsess over all the bad things that could happen if, say, we’re caught in some horrific storm—I don’t care what Sammy says.
    Lightning could hit the plane, causing an electrical fire that engulfs us all in this glorified tuna can.
    Or the lightning could cause a spiraling crash.
    Or a midair explosion.
    These nightmare scenarios fill me up until I can’t control it. My breath becomes shallow. My pulse thrums erratically. My heart pumps out beats, but all I feel are the beats it skips. Opening my mouth, I try to get a little more air without actually panting—
    An gives me a nudge. “You okay?”
    No. I’m absolutely not okay.
    â€œYep.” Stubborn pride forces me to lie and