Lucky Guess: A Sevton Story

Sesta 1: Gambit

I

A little stash of artwork had gone a long, long way. But where to?

Diane heard something whirring in the immediate distance, and perked her head up as she stepped out the Cafeteria. No one in their right mind ever flew over the rooftops of downtown Trouvaille on a sunny Tuesday morning. At least the law made that clear, or so she found out in a handbook once. She stood in a trance and took notice, as N7290 and its shadow raced across the premises from north to south. So did everyone she knew: her friends, her classmates, and the entire school staff. The rusty airliner swooped so lowly, a trail of wind and dust ensued. She and some of the onlookers ran back inside, coughing and fanning themselves and shielding their faces. Across the buildings, every window frame and security bar wobbled in aftereffect. When the drift dissipated and the huge drone faded out, they emerged again and looked all over to see where it went. She could hear murmurs and whispers from the whole crowd, well after the object lifted away in a flash.

“The Devil is getting in our details,” Sister Saunders firmly declared in light of their reaction. “May we all live to cast him out.” Even Mr. Donnelly, the steadfast Principal, muttered a strange sort of Latin chant as he looked on through his binoculars.

For some, the scene almost resembled the Hudson incident or the Princess Juliana approach. What if the whole thing had fallen apart and crashed upon them? The swaying of the right-hand propeller gave her cause for concern.

And then, only seconds before the Glover bell could clang, the package fell free from the baggage hold and hurtled down towards the cityscape. If my ticket’s in ’ere—alleluia. God, give me strength now. Halfway across the horizon, something yellow popped up above it—and made it float the rest of the way until they could no longer see it. Why couldn’t they drop it down at the courtyard instead? That would have made their whole day. Especially hers.

Some kind of super-special delivery, perhaps?

For the next two hours of lessons, nothing else captivated Diane. The other 35 students in her class only discussed the fervor throughout their waiting session. But her? She didn’t go one period—Science, Religion and Grammar—without sketching the event at the back of her exercise books.

And midway during the last session, Mrs. Jelsom wouldn’t stand for it. Diane flinched at the sound of the WHAP that landed on her desk. The look in her face—wrinkles and all—made the girl shudder. The teacher of the moment only sneered at her and returned to the blackboard. As for Diane, she couldn’t endure another round of raspberries, giggles and other insults from those who crowded her. But striking out at them granted her no benefits, either.

“When will you stop daydreaming?” her friend Norissa grumbled. “No wonder your parents left this morning.”

But I’m only gettin’ started! Give me a fightin’ chance, will ya?

After all, she wouldn’t stop until she received the chance to see Marilyn and her family in the savannah.

____

That afternoon, right after dismissal, she sped southward through the central streets to find out where that bundle landed. She glanced hither and yon amid the multitude of passers-by, but saw nothing. Nobody expected talk of that plane to spread so fast.

“Just made it ’top the Ambassade,” said a boy from another school. “Like to check?”

“Sure.”

“Roberta can’t come here now,” Wilfred told her. “One look and you’ll see why.”

And indeed, more than a dozen journalists swarmed around the entrance on David Hand Boulevard. HCP’s TV and radio units, and several senior writers from the Crusader newspaper, clamored for answers; even the children caught a glimpse of Stanley “the Man” from the Associated Press office. Balthazar the concierge, and several secretaries, struggled to keep up with their pace. Several dozen regulars on either side of the road joined in the frenzy as well. This stuff only happened next door in Trinidad, Barbados or Venezuela—never in Shropshire.