The bathroom door creaked as we stepped out, the air thick with a strange mix of relief and dread. Bobby’s nervous chatter bubbled up immediately, words spilling over themselves in the quiet of the hallway. I put a finger to my lips, silencing him, but he shot me a look that said he wasn’t pleased. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I could see the irritation in his eyes—as if I had overstepped, as though he was supposed to be the one calling the shots.
David was the last to leave the bathroom, closing the door with exaggerated care like he was sneaking out of a bank heist. His dark hair, neatly feathered back from the short haircut Mom insisted we all get for summer, gave him an almost polished look—though it didn’t quite match the goofy grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Well, that was an adventure,” he whispered, shooting me a mock-serious look. “We should form a club: Survivors of Mysterious Planes.”
“Not now,” I whispered, though it was hard not to smile. David always had a way of breaking the tension, whether we wanted him to or not.
The hallway felt oppressively quiet after the earlier chaos, but I couldn’t shake the memory of the bang—the one so loud it rattled the windows. I hadn’t mentioned it yet, unsure of what it could mean or if it was even related. My chest tightened at the thought.
Then the sound of Mom’s car pulling into the driveway shattered the silence. Relief swept over me like a wave, though I knew it was fleeting. Whatever just happened with that plane—or whatever it was—we’d have to keep it to ourselves for now. Mom didn’t miss much, but explaining this was impossible.
The kitchen door slammed shut, her keys jangling as she called out, “Kids? You home?”
David smirked and muttered, “Nope. Definitely not here.” I shot him a look, but he just shrugged.
Mom’s voice grew sharper as she walked into the house. “Bobby? Tony? David? John?”
Tony, still clutching his chewed-up plastic army man, shuffled forward from the hallway. His red-and-white-striped shirt looked too bright against the gray January light streaming in through the windows.
“What were you all doing in the bathroom?” Mom asked, her tone suspicious as her gaze swept over us. Her eyes landed on Bobby, whose light blue top with white trim was a little wrinkled. His red shorts clashed horribly with his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.
“Nothing,” Bobby mumbled, his irritation still simmering.
“I’ve got half a mind to ask, but I’m not sure I want to know.” Mom sighed, shaking her head as she set the bags on the counter. “I swear, I can never find you when I need help. Come on, help me put these groceries away so I can get started on lunch.”
Bobby darted toward the kitchen like a soldier responding to a direct order, his earlier irritation with me already forgotten. Tony followed more slowly, lazily swinging his army man by its head, the chewed-up leg bouncing against his wrist. David trailed after them, giving me a playful nudge as he passed. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes that said Mom seemed to have no clue about the one-winged plane or the bang that had shaken the house. It felt like we’d been doing something stupid and gotten away with it—for now.
“Relax,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like she’ll find out about…” He mimed a plane crash with his hands, complete with sound effects.
“Cut it out,” I hissed, but I couldn’t help a small laugh.
When we got to the kitchen, Mom was already pulling bread and peanut butter from the pantry. Her hair was a little frizzier than usual, and her face had that tight, hurried look she always got when she had too much to do.
“Where were you this morning?” she asked, slicing bread like it had offended her. “You could’ve been helping me clean instead of…whatever you were doing.”
“Just…hanging out,” I said, trying to sound casual. David slid onto a stool next to Tony, propping his chin in his hands dramatically. Tony, for his part, was swinging his legs and humming softly, entirely absorbed in pulling his army men into a neat line on the counter.
“Hanging out?” Mom glanced at me sharply. “With the bathroom window open in January? You’re lucky the pipes didn’t freeze.”
I didn’t answer. The last thing I needed was for her to start asking why the window had been open in the first place. She sighed and shook her head, dropping sandwiches onto plates with a little more force than necessary.
“Did you hear anything this morning?” she asked suddenly. “About the plane?”
My stomach tightened. “What plane?”
“There’s a lot of talk at the lot,” she said, setting a plate in front of Tony. “Some big-shot businessman was supposed to fly into Ludington this morning, but his plane never showed up. People are saying…” She trailed off, frowning as she pulled a chair out and sat down.
“Saying what?” Bobby asked, crumbs falling from his mouth.
“Well, some folks think it crashed into the lake,” Mom said, her tone low. “But no one heard anything. No distress call, no wreckage. Just…gone.”
David froze mid-bite, his normally mischievous expression giving way to something more serious. “That’s…weird,” he said, his voice softer than usual.
I felt the words like a weight pressing on my chest. I couldn’t look at her, not with the heat rising to my face. Bobby and Tony didn’t seem to notice—Tony was busy dismembering a potato chip, and Bobby had already finished his sandwich.
Mom stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back with a scrape. “I’ve got laundry to do,” she said, grabbing her plate. “You kids clean up.”
She disappeared down the hallway, her footsteps fading as she descended to the basement. The silence she left behind was suffocating.
“You think it’s really gone?” Bobby asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” I said, my throat dry. “I think it is.”
David raised an eyebrow, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, uh…anyone else want to join my club now?”
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