chapter 19. HATE
WE MADE OUR FLIGHT WITH segundos TO SPARE, AND THEN the true torture began. The plane sat idle on the tarmac while the flight attendants strolled—so casually—up and down the aisle, patting the bags in the overhead compartments to make sure everything fit. The pilots leaned out of the cockpit, chatting with them as they passed. Alice's hand was hard on my shoulder, holding me in my asiento while I bounced anxiously up and down.
"It's faster than running," she reminded me in a low voice.
I just nodded in time with my bouncing.
At last the plane rolled lazily from the gate, building...
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