Airbourne

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30 minutes later...

Ever since goose died Pete has been different. I mean, I get it. It's hard when someone dies, especially since they were best friends. He's been on alert and more protective than ever before, no wonder he's pissed I'm down here with him.

"Come on, walk faster I think I see the runway.." He demanded as he sped up. I just sighed and hurried behind him.

I knew goose. Not as good as maverick though, no one did. My only vivid memory of him was when he was with maverick and mavericks dad working on a plane, and my dad went over and started helping. I just stayed over in a corner since I didn't know goose and I didn't want to interrupt with the two of them hanging out. I was in my own world until suddenly goose came over and asked me to hand him the screwdriver and I did. He thanked me and came over every other minute to ask me for something different. I don't think they were actually using the tools though because Maverick was beside the plane laughing. Eventually I didn't hand goose anything and he just walked away. Maverick told me he was only 14 at the time..

I followed maverick through the snow until we reached the run way.

"Wont they know we're American?"

"Not if we act Russian."

"How do you act Russian-"

He suddenly started running towards a plane garage with his head down. I scoffed and ran after him.

"Just don't look and act like you need to do something." He said.

"Whatever you say genius.."

He was a total dick. And he knew he was too, that's what made him continue to be one. Once we got to the garage he quickly started messing with the control panels beside the plane, but something else caught my eye..not just the huge ass plane in front of my face but the letters engraved on the side in sloppy, faint handwriting...

"lune et étoiles"

My lips parted in shock as I walk slowly to the imprint on the plane, my hand glided across it. My head quickly snapped back over to Pete, he was still fiddling with the control panels. My gaze turned back to the writing, my eyes squinted as if the words weren't actually there. I repeated the phrase in a low whisper to myself, it was French. In English it said: "Moon and Stars."

Thinking about it made my head spin. One and only one person I knew sang that song before I slept each night. My dad.

————

"Come on Naomi, go to sleep now."

"But I'm not tired."

"I can tell you're lying, let's go."

My father grabs my hand gently and we both walk to my bedroom. I have a sour look on my face, looking like I just want to punch him. But I know I would never do that. He opens my door and leads me inside. I climb into my bed with rage and make sure my dad knows it. He acknowledges my anger and just smiles weekly, finding it amusing.

"It's not funny." I say through gritted teeth.

"It's-pretty funny..." he replies, holding out the "it's" part. He chuckles as he looks back up at my lips twitching, trying not to crack a smile and keep my enraged face. But I fail miserably, a wide smile plastering my face. We match grins and laughs like we were looking into endless mirrors. After a moment he's tucking me in and kneeling next to my bed. He gets up to leave before I call out for him, he turns his head back.

"Can you sing that song?" I ask quietly.

He nods and walks back over, sitting on the ground next to my bed. And to no surprise, he sings. It wasn't good singing..more of just a calming experience. It's not like what he puts on the radio every day, or like the kids singing in my school to themselves, or out loud. It's heartfelt and it goes straight to me. It makes me feel special. It makes me feel happy. It makes me feel loved. And that's all he wanted me to feel from him for the rest of his short life and even after it, was love.
———

"We're flying my dad's old abandoned plane." I thought to myself.

Rust grew like mold on one part of it, and it looks so fragile that even if a hard enough breezes passes by it would collapse to ash. It had a couple of bullet holes in varying places, and it desperately needed a good clean down.

I don't know how.

I don't know when.

But we will get this plane airborne. This plane will fly again.

If I go down in any plane, I want it to be this one..so maybe my dad won't have to be the only one in our family to die such a horrible death so soon.

————

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⏰ Last updated: Apr 03 ⏰

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•over time•   {Dallas Winston}Where stories live. Discover now