Never Take the Brown Bomber Jacket

In Which I Get Caught Like a Deer in Headlights

“So, whose place are we going to?” I asked Spain an hour after our conversation had ended.

            “England’s, I think,” he replied, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

            I frowned a bit.  I wanted to see the other nations’ houses.  “Oh, okay.”

            “Your parents—Italy and Aria, I mean—are still imprisoned there.  I think that’s why we’re going back.”

            I straightened up, my eyes widening at the mention of my parents.  “Oh, my God!  I am literally the worst daughter ever!”

            “Why?”

            “I completely forgot about them!  How could I do that?”

            Spain chuckled.  “There was a lot going on.”

            My frown deepened.  “Yeah, but… still.”

            He just chuckled again and stayed silent.  For some reason, my mind wandered to where my phone was.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to contact anyone from home, but I was curious—and I missed my friends.  I think I brought it with me from the safe house and left it somewhere in England’s mansion.  The battery would be dead by now, though, and I can’t remember if I brought my charger along or not.  Maybe England had one…

            While I was thinking about this, I didn’t realise that we had pulled into an airport.  Spain had slowed down a lot, which is what got me to look up, and we were now following a snail trail of cars into the parking lot.

            “Are we still in Germany?” I asked.  Spain gave me a strange look.  “Er, I-uh, you know what I meant!”

            He laughed.  “Si, I do.  And no, we’re in the Netherlands.”

            I nodded, and then something occurred to me.  “What day is it?”

            “Saturday?”

            “No, I mean the date.”

            “Oh…  May twenty-fourth?”

            My heart dropped, and I quickly checked the time: 6:30 and it was getting dark out.  “Oh, crap.”

            “What is it?” a different voice asked.

            I looked over at England, who had one eye open and looking at me.  “Have you been awake this whole time?” I asked him.

            “I’ve been in and out,” he said, sitting up with a groan and looking out the window.  “Are we at the airport already?  How long did that take?”

            “Well, we were in Bielefeld, and now we’re in Rotterdam, so…”  Spain paused to think for a moment.  “About three hours?”

            “Felt longer,” I muttered at the same time England said “Felt shorter.”  We gave each other weird looks as Spain laughed at us.  “Anyways,” I continued, cracking a smile which faded as I spoke.  “My school takes an annual trip here, and this is the day they’re supposed to be landing here.”

            “That’s not good,” England mused, staring out the window, his eyes searching the sidewalk as the car crawled along.  “Would they be here by now?”

            I bit my lip.  “I don’t know, maybe?  There’s a high chance—unless the flight was delayed for some odd reason.”

            He just frowned and didn’t say anything.  I watched him curiously.  Ever since he said that it seemed like the Orb was finally kicking in, he’d been kind of vague about pretty much everything.  It was starting to make me nervous.