THE HELICOPTER THAT was carrying Steve and the President was the length of five cars. It whizzed over the crowded city toward the air force base.
After greeting Steve, the President had begun talking on her cell phone. Steve caught an occasional phrase, such as “free trade” or “religious wars.” Mostly his attention was fixed on the people sitting in traffic below while two Secret Service men, on either side of the President, glared at him.
Finally the helicopter passed over the barbed-wire fence of the base. The parking lot was packed. Thousands of people were waiting outside the fence to see the kids land.
The helicopter started its descent.
The President closed her cell phone and looked at Steve. “Grace and Robert have almost reached the Pole,” she said.
“They’ll be the first kids to make it to the Pole on their own, won’t they?” Steve said.
“Yes,” the President said with a heavy sigh. “The world needs brave deeds now more than ever.”
Abruptly, the propellers stopped.
A Secret Service woman opened the door.
“We’ll escort the President to the runway, and then you can follow,” one of the Secret Service men inside the helicopter said to Steve.
Steve peered out the window at the crowd.
Security surrounded the President as she walked toward the runway.
Looking out the window, Steve saw a crowd of demonstrators outside the fenced runway. One little girl, her cheeks streaked with dust, hoisted a sign that said, ALL KIDS DESERVE AN EDUCATION.
A boy about Steve’s age was carrying two oversized dice stuffed into a trash can. TRASH THE GREAT EDU-DICE TOSS was written in big letters on the side of the can.
A woman held up a sign with the words GIVE OUR KIDS A FUTURE superimposed over images of the faces of the Antarctic Historical Survivor kids.
The pilot called back to Steve: “They’ve given me the signal. You can get out now.”
Steve walked down the stairs onto the tarmac.
Someone shouted, “That’s Birdie Bowers!”
Steve heard the name Birdie Bowers called out again and again. It was fitting, almost two centuries after his death, that a brave man’s name had become alive once more.
Steve passed a special area on the other side of the fence marked PRESS. The reporters seemed to lunge for him.
“Mr. Michael, can we talk to you?” a voice demanded.
“My newspaper will pay for an interview!”
Steve ignored the shouts and kept walking toward the President, who was surrounded by a group of aides. He walked up to her.
“I’ll greet the kids,” the President said. “Then you may.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” an aide said to Steve, “we’ll take photos with the kids and the President first, then we’ll get a photo of you together.”
A different staffer took hold of Steve’s elbow and directed him off to the side: “Stand here.”
A big plane with the emblem of the U.S. government came into view.
From the loudspeakers came the strains of “God Bless America.”
The plane descended and came to a stop twenty yards away. Steve stared at the plane windows, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of one of the contestants. He found it strange that he knew so much about the three of them, and they so little about him.
A group of men dressed in bright-orange suits rushed a set of stairs to the plane.
A long drumroll came from the loudspeakers.
A cleaned-up Billy walked down the steps first. His face looked tense, as though he expected to be booed. But when a kid in the crowd shouted “Hurrah!” he raised a bag of Chocobombs, and the crowd outside the fence roared.
Billy grinned and kept walking down the flight of stairs.
Polly wore a short black skirt. She had pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She was just visible at the top of the stairs when the crowd started cheering.
Polly burst into tears and hid her face with the book she was carrying.
Behind her, Andrew hobbled down. He had a crutch under one arm. Even at this distance his face looked drawn and white. One foot was swathed in a bright-green bandage, and Steve wondered if the doctors had had to amputate his toes after all. It was only then that Steve realized how close Andrew had come to dying. He felt tears choke his throat.
Andrew smiled such a sweet smile that Steve wanted to hug him.
Then Andrew’s dad started down the steps. The sight of the large crowd stopped him.
A few people booed. From the interviews of Mr. Morton that Steve had seen on EduTV, he hadn’t liked the man, either.
Two stewards carried Mrs. Pritchard down the stairs in a wheelchair.
Mr. and Mrs. Kanalski followed. Mr. Kanalski had a big grin on his face. Mrs. Kanalski was crying into her handkerchief.
Billy reached the bottom of the stairs. He walked over to the President as if he had known her all his life.
The President shook Billy’s hand and congratulated him.
Lights flashed, and Billy grinned.
Steve guessed that Billy’s dad would post the photo on Billy’s website.
Polly approached the President. She walked hesitantly, as if she were afraid.
Billy stepped aside and looked around. He spotted Steve standing all alone a few paces away, and a puzzled look crossed his face.
The crowd, sensing the drama unfolding, began chanting Birdie Bowers’s name.
Andrew, barely on the ground, stopped. He seemed to be listening to the crowd. He slowly turned and looked at Steve.
Polly squinted at Steve in the bright sun.
Andrew turned red, then white. He veered away from the President and started hobbling as fast as he could toward Steve.
Polly and Billy joined him.
Why am I standing here like a fool, watching? Steve rushed forward to welcome the kids home.