ATTACK OF THE FIFTY-FOOT CONSCIENCE MONSTER
I’m sorry about Kell,” I said to Mom. “I mean, I did think he was a total jerk and all, but I know you liked him. I shouldn’t have been so happy when he… you know…”
“When he threw me in the way of the bunyip and ran for his life, screaming like a three-year-old who saw the boogeyman?” Mom said.
“Maybe that’s what geologists are like,” I offered.
“I don’t think so, Rafe. I’m sure there are plenty of brave geologists out there. Just not Kell.”
“Anyway,” I said, “you liked him and I’m sorry he did what he did.”
We were 38,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean, about halfway back to Hills Village.
Mom shrugged. “I thought I liked him, but he turned out to be someone different from who I thought he was. I suppose I can thank you for that. But I’m fine, honestly, Rafe. Just fine.”
Mom put her headphones back on and started watching a movie. I noticed that none of her lucky charms were visible and that she seemed pretty calm for someone terrified of flying. I guess that after everything that had gone on in Shark’s Bay, an airplane flight didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.
I sat back in my seat and listened to the sound of the engines.
I was home free. So why didn’t I feel better?
The answer came to me somewhere over Hawaii. There was the obvious stuff like missing Ellie and the rest of the guys, but that wasn’t it. No, what was bugging me was that we—me and the Outsiders—had done something great, something really cool and challenging and awesome and creative, and no one outside Shark’s Bay would ever know.