I stepped to the side and waited until he sat down, then buckled in next to him.

followed me down the narrow aisle to our first-class seats. We sat in awkward silence until it was time to board the plane. His mom got tired of circling the airport. I taught at a high school and considered occasional comments from hormone-riddled boys a fairly benign occupational hazard.Īfter confirming we were still on schedule, I returned and sat in the empty chair next to T.J. I want to check on our flight.”Īs I walked away I heard Ben say, “Dude, your babysitter is smokin’ hot.” I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the time. I’m Anna,” I said to the boy sitting next to T.J. He had braces on his teeth, which I hadn’t noticed before, and a small scar on his chin. “Yeah, sure.” He had gained weight and his face wasn’t as pale. John left and I watched until the crowd enveloped him, then smoothed the front of my skirt and walked over to the boys. Resigned, he picked up my carry-on bag and placed the strap on my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed T.J. John put his arms around my waist and kissed me, several seconds longer than he should have in such a public place. I just chose to postpone it until the end of the summer. There was really only one option, though. I didn’t point out the irony in his request. “Please don’t make any final decisions until you get back.”

He shoved his hands in his back pockets and stared down at the worn airport carpeting. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” John asked. A navy blue backpack sat on the floor at T.J.’s feet. Slouched in their seats, they were dressed in the style favored by most sixteen-year-old boys: long, baggy athletic shorts, T-shirts, and untied tennis shoes. I waved, and he acknowledged me with a nod while the boy sitting next to him elbowed him in the ribs. because short brown hair now covered his head. I scanned the crowd and smiled when I spotted T.J. At the gate John asked, “What’s he look like?” We shuffled along in silence, following the throng of slow-moving passengers. “You don’t have to,” I said, shaking my head. I slipped the boarding pass into my purse and turned to say good-bye to John. I’ve checked you all the way through to Malé. When we finally reached the US Airways counter, the ticket agent smiled, tagged my luggage, and handed me a boarding pass. We fought the crowd, each of us pulling a large, wheeled suitcase, and I wondered if everyone in Chicago had decided to fly somewhere that day. My boyfriend, John, drove me to the airport even though he was third on my list, below my mom and my sister, Sarah, of the people I wanted to take me. The pilot’s name was Mick, but he died before we hit the water. was sixteen, and three months into remission from Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Callahan and I were traveling on crash-landed in the Indian Ocean. I was thirty years old when the seaplane T.J.

On the island by tracey garvis graves