Read Online Van Bender and the Burning Emblems (The Van Bender Archives #1) by S. James Nelson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. James Nelson
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would sure be a really fantastic time.”
She shook her head. Her voice came over my headset, tinny and hollow. “When we get home, we’ll take care of it.”
“Like, I’m not kidding. A little information would be really nice here.”
“Not now. You won’t have any questions once we get home.”
“I would hate to make any more mistakes—”
“Richie!” She leaned forward, putting her face within inches of mine. “We’ve feared this day for your whole life! We’ve wondered how we could teach you about the... stuff. We’ve fretted over it—”
“You keep saying ‘we.’“
“Your father and I. We’ve done the best we could to keep you safe.”
“You should have known—”
“We did all we could, and now this. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? Do you have any clue?”
“Like you just won a prize?”
She grunted and sat back, shaking her head and staring out the window.
“Like maybe you should have told me already?”
She didn’t look at me.
“Like going out for a pizza?”
She still looked outside.
Annoyed at Mom, I waved at the fans. They had cameras out, and the flashes punctuated the night with moments of brilliance. The helipad attendants gave the thumbs up.
“Here we go,” the pilot said.
The tone of the helicopter motor increased as the blades accelerated and we lifted into the air. As my stomach began to turn, something occurred to me. I looked at Mom.
“You have a lighter in your purse,” I said.
She glanced at me, and looked away.
“You have no reason to carry a lighter.” I couldn’t help my tone from being accusatory. “You keep it to... to light that other stuff. And you have that orange lip gloss. I’ve never seen you use it, but you’ve always had it with you.”
“Richie,” she said, “it’s complicated. We’ll talk soon. You won’t have any questions. I promise. We just need to get home.”
I frowned. “Because being home is going to make this conversation oh-so-much simpler? It’ll reduce the complexity a little—like magically?”
She glared at me.
“Because, you know, all the really hard conversations work out better at home.”
“Enough, Richie.”
“Home makes it—”
“I said enough!”
I shook my head and looked outside.
The crowd and the football stadium slipped away beneath us, and the lights of the city spread out under and around us. My stomach started to do flips.
I don’t know if the cancer messed me up, or if it would have happened, anyway, but before the cancer I loved roller coasters and amusement park rides. I could spin on the Scrambler or the Rock-o-Planes for hours without getting sick. I loved high-speed coasters the most. But since the cancer I couldn’t go on more than one or two rides without getting queasy and wanting to blow my lunch all over the place.
Extended rides in vehicles do the same thing to me. My gut turns and people say I go pale. Cars aren’t so bad if I sit in the front seat and watch straight ahead, and I used a similar tactic with the helicopter flight. I focused on a light ahead, on the ground.
Fortunately, we didn’t have to go far. Just to our home in Malibu.
As we flew away from the stadium, a movement outside the window caught my eyes, and I turned to see Agent Maynerd standing upright, soaring through the air. He still wore his wide-brimmed hat. His long coat flapped out behind him like Superman’s cape as he approached the helicopter. He had one hand extended, fist closed as if he held onto something.
He wasn’t far away. Perhaps thirty feet. Surprised, I rubbed my eyes, and looked back. By then, he’d flown up next to the helicopter. I started to say something to Mom, but he tapped on the window to get her attention. She jumped in surprise.
“What the—!” She cut herself short. She always did. I’d never heard her swear even once.
“Uhhmm,” the pilot said in our headsets, “it appears there’s a flying man outside the copter.”
Agent Maynerd knocked again and
She shook her head. Her voice came over my headset, tinny and hollow. “When we get home, we’ll take care of it.”
“Like, I’m not kidding. A little information would be really nice here.”
“Not now. You won’t have any questions once we get home.”
“I would hate to make any more mistakes—”
“Richie!” She leaned forward, putting her face within inches of mine. “We’ve feared this day for your whole life! We’ve wondered how we could teach you about the... stuff. We’ve fretted over it—”
“You keep saying ‘we.’“
“Your father and I. We’ve done the best we could to keep you safe.”
“You should have known—”
“We did all we could, and now this. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? Do you have any clue?”
“Like you just won a prize?”
She grunted and sat back, shaking her head and staring out the window.
“Like maybe you should have told me already?”
She didn’t look at me.
“Like going out for a pizza?”
She still looked outside.
Annoyed at Mom, I waved at the fans. They had cameras out, and the flashes punctuated the night with moments of brilliance. The helipad attendants gave the thumbs up.
“Here we go,” the pilot said.
The tone of the helicopter motor increased as the blades accelerated and we lifted into the air. As my stomach began to turn, something occurred to me. I looked at Mom.
“You have a lighter in your purse,” I said.
She glanced at me, and looked away.
“You have no reason to carry a lighter.” I couldn’t help my tone from being accusatory. “You keep it to... to light that other stuff. And you have that orange lip gloss. I’ve never seen you use it, but you’ve always had it with you.”
“Richie,” she said, “it’s complicated. We’ll talk soon. You won’t have any questions. I promise. We just need to get home.”
I frowned. “Because being home is going to make this conversation oh-so-much simpler? It’ll reduce the complexity a little—like magically?”
She glared at me.
“Because, you know, all the really hard conversations work out better at home.”
“Enough, Richie.”
“Home makes it—”
“I said enough!”
I shook my head and looked outside.
The crowd and the football stadium slipped away beneath us, and the lights of the city spread out under and around us. My stomach started to do flips.
I don’t know if the cancer messed me up, or if it would have happened, anyway, but before the cancer I loved roller coasters and amusement park rides. I could spin on the Scrambler or the Rock-o-Planes for hours without getting sick. I loved high-speed coasters the most. But since the cancer I couldn’t go on more than one or two rides without getting queasy and wanting to blow my lunch all over the place.
Extended rides in vehicles do the same thing to me. My gut turns and people say I go pale. Cars aren’t so bad if I sit in the front seat and watch straight ahead, and I used a similar tactic with the helicopter flight. I focused on a light ahead, on the ground.
Fortunately, we didn’t have to go far. Just to our home in Malibu.
As we flew away from the stadium, a movement outside the window caught my eyes, and I turned to see Agent Maynerd standing upright, soaring through the air. He still wore his wide-brimmed hat. His long coat flapped out behind him like Superman’s cape as he approached the helicopter. He had one hand extended, fist closed as if he held onto something.
He wasn’t far away. Perhaps thirty feet. Surprised, I rubbed my eyes, and looked back. By then, he’d flown up next to the helicopter. I started to say something to Mom, but he tapped on the window to get her attention. She jumped in surprise.
“What the—!” She cut herself short. She always did. I’d never heard her swear even once.
“Uhhmm,” the pilot said in our headsets, “it appears there’s a flying man outside the copter.”
Agent Maynerd knocked again and
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