Stanzi—Tuesday Morning—Splitting in Two
After I watch China run away, I think: It’s hard to trust your helicopter pilot.
I can feel a laugh and a scream forming at the same time. I’m frozen, standing here with my backpack at my feet, looking up at the beauty of his red helicopter.
I distract myself with questions. How long did it take him? When did he start? He said he’d get credit in AP physics for this. He hasn’t mentioned that since, though. I wonder why.
Teachers don’t give credit for something they can’t see.
“Who needs credit?” the dangerous bush man says. “You’re going to a place of no credit.”
I look at him and say, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Took the day off,” he says. “Wanted to make sure you two got out of here okay.”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
He looks at me. I think he can see me splitting in two. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Of course.”
He studies me. “One part of you wants to stay and one part of you wants to go. Is that correct?”
I nod.
“This is normal.”
I nod again.
“He’ll be a good pilot. I taught him everything I know.”
I think about kissing Gustav the way I have kissed the dangerous bush man.
He says, “I recommend this.”
I try not to think anything else important while he’s there. Mind readers make me uncomfortable. I have too many thoughts.
“You shouldn’t be afraid,” he says. “Once you get there, find Patricia and tell her I miss her.” He walks over to Gustav and says something to him about how I have the map and he helps him lift a box into the helicopter and he slips a small, blocky, glittery letter P from his coat pocket and puts it inside the box without Gustav seeing.
Inside my head, I hear his voice. Give that letter to her. She’ll know I sent you. She’ll take care of you. You can trust her. She’s a very good friend.
Gustav and I climb into the helicopter. It’s not like the opening credits to M*A*S*H where the dust and trees act frenzied by the wind. It’s calm. The sound is no louder than a purring cat, and I can feel the subtle movement of the rotor and the turbine that will fly us to wherever Patricia is. I’ve latched on to her in under a minute. She will be our camp counselor. Our friend. That’s what the bush man said. She’s a very good friend.
Gustav turns to me and says, “Are you ready?”
I nod.
“You have to say yes or no. I don’t want anyone thinking I kidnapped you.”
“What a strange thing to say,” I say.
“I need you to say loud and clear that you want to do this,” he says.
“I want to do this. But I want you to kiss me first.”
Gustav recoils. “I’m afraid to kiss.”
“I’ll teach you.”
He seems willing, so before I strap myself into the passenger’s seat, I lean over to him and I kiss him gently on the lips over and over until he begins to kiss me back and we do this for several minutes.
He straps himself into the pilot’s seat. He checks his gauges. He puts on his headset and I put mine on and he checks communication between us by saying, “That was a very nice kiss.”
I check my communication device by answering, “I’ve loved you for two years, only I couldn’t tell you.”
He doesn’t answer this because he’s busy flipping switches and firing up the helicopter to full speed and he asks, “Are you ready?”
I look out onto the lawn where I was standing only five minutes before and I see her—my other Stanzi. She is staying here, in the land of test drills, bomb drills, and mourning parents, and I will finally escape. I wave to her. I don’t know why she’s smiling.
I’m the one who should be smiling.
I’m the one who is escaping.