Fantasy

5

On Friday morning Dad wakes me up with a slobbery kiss on my forehead. Gross. "Dad," I complain.

"Morning Abby, I'm leaving for the shop now and Jenna is here."

"Okay," I reply, getting out of bed. I clumsily place my glasses on my face and lumber after Dad down the stairs and into the kitchen where Jenna stands. For once, the overly optimistic air she always wears is gone. Her shoulders are slightly slouched in her emerald-green dress. I'm still groggy as Dad departs with a hurried, "See you tonight."

Once he's gone Jenna speaks, "Are you ready?"

I have to get dressed, probably eat breakfast, brush my hair and teeth, and collect the eggs from my chickens. I better do it quickly. "Hang on," I tell her. I run back upstairs, throw on some capris, a T-shirt, and of course, I also adorn my silver locket.

My Dad found the locket on the counter in his fishing and hunting supplies shop. No one ever claimed it, and we couldn't track down the lady whose name is engraved on the side, Heather Ally Lopez. I decided just to keep it. I think it's pretty and kind of mysterious. I can imagine Heather is an amazing person. Maybe she's a spy, or an astronaut.

While pulling on sneakers I glance at my clock, nine o' seven. I grab a comb and brush my hair as I trot down the stairs. In the kitchen I pull my hair back in a ponytail as I pour a bowl of cereal. Jenna sits patiently and stiff-backed at the table with her legs crossed. Eating a little faster than usual, I glance at the clock on the stove, nine fifteen. By the time I'm done it says nine twenty-five. I put my bowl and spoon in the sink and go brush my teeth. Now that I'm completely ready I go outside to the chicken coop in the backyard. I quickly feed and water the chickens as well as collect their eggs. I fill a basket half full, which is pretty good. When I go back inside I set the eggs on the counter and tell Jenna I'm all set.

"Don't you need to put the eggs in the refrigerator?" she comments. Taylor and Jenna have a farm too, but it's a dairy farm while ours is a beef farm. Still, I don't understand why they don't raise chickens.

So, I explain to her that, "I haven't washed off the natural lair of protection they have yet, so I can leave them out."

"Hmm, are you sure?"

"Positive, come on. I hope Taylor's okay."

"So do I," Jenna agrees, leading me out to her Prius. I slide into the backseat and we're off. I'm grateful that she doesn't drive like Randy.

As an afterthought I ask, "Hey Jenna, am I going to be home before my parents?"

"When do your parents get home?"

"Around 2:00."

She shrugs, "Nope, but the CMRA will come up with a cover for you, don't worry."

Several miles later we're at the CMRA. Jenna doesn't even take me down the stairs; she just puts me on a small bush plane that's idling on a small strip of asphalt-type material in the middle of the field. It looks like it folds into the outside garage entrance, very clever. The pilot has tattoos all up and down his arms of birds, mostly. Eagles, pigeons, wrens, hummingbirds, and bluebirds soar over his skin.

"Hi, I'm Patrick, are you Abby?" he asks. When I nod he hands me a set of headphones matching the pair he has on. "I'll be your pilot today," he explains as I put on the headphones. I take my glasses off first so they don't dig into my skull when the headset is on. Once I'm comfortable (though blind) Patrick asks, "Ready?" I nod with almost complete certainty I haven't forgotten to bring anything important, and he lifts off.