Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas by Jonathan W. Stokes Page B

Nancy did not look happy to check that. She loudly pounded at the keys of her terminal. “Looks like plenty of room on the flight.”
    â€œPerfect. Nancy, I have a special favor to ask.”
    â€œOh, really?”
    â€œThis is our first time traveling without an adult. My stepfather would feel more comfortable if we were seatedin the first-class cabin, where the flight attendants can keep a better eye on us.”
    Nancy fixed Addison with a withering gaze. “I’m sorry, it is not our policy to upgrade our coach passengers to first class.”
    â€œOf course not. And I’m sure my stepfather would agree with you completely, Nancy.” Addison waited to see if she would take his bait. He counted to three in his head.
    â€œAnd . . . who is your stepfather?”
    Addison knew he had her on the line; he just had to reel her in. “We’re not supposed to drop his name,” he demurred. “Especially on his airline.”
    Nancy’s face drained of color. “Wait, are you saying your stepfather is . . .”
    â€œThe chairman of this airline, yes,” said Addison, turning to leave. “Don’t worry about the seats, Nancy, we’ll just be on our way.”
    â€œWait!” said Nancy, typing furiously into her terminal. “Let me just recheck the system. Ah! It looks as though we
do
have some seats available in first class. Would that be acceptable?”
    Addison turned to check with Eddie and Raj. They nodded, wide-eyed. He turned to face Nancy.
    â€œThat will be acceptable.” Addison offered Nancy a reassuring smile. “Nancy, you’re a rainmaker. Here’s my card if you ever need anything.” He slid her one of hisuncle’s business cards. “Can you point my friends and me to the bar? We are parched and require refreshment.”
    â€œWith pleasure, Mr. Cooke.” Nancy perked up to her most professional posture and gestured toward the bar.
    As they walked away, Addison turned to Molly. “And that’s how you get a first-class upgrade.”
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    Addison sidled up to the bar as if his stepfather owned the entire airline. “Four Arnold Palmers, easy on the ice,” he called to the bartender.
    Eddie, Raj, and Molly took seats as well. The bartender examined the middle schoolers in surprise.
    â€œAn Arnold Palmer is half lemonade, half iced tea,” Addison explained to the slack-jawed bartender. “It’s named for the legendary golf pro.”
    â€œOf course,” said the bartender, snapping his jaw shut. “But how will you be paying for this today?”
    Addison confidently slid his uncle’s credit card across the table.
    The bartender eyed the credit card suspiciously. “All right, Mr. Cooke. May I see some ID to verify this card?”
    Addison fumbled through his uncle’s wallet and handed over his uncle’s New York City Public Library card.
    The bartender carefully compared the names on thetwo cards and decided they matched up just fine. He shrugged. “Four Arnold Palmers, coming right up.”
    Addison smiled, spinning around in his bar stool to admire the view of the runway. A gaggle of jumbo jets lined up for takeoff. When the Arnold Palmers arrived, Addison clinked glasses with his team. He swiveled the ice cubes around in his drink and took a sip. It was perfect.
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    Addison reclined his seat in the first-class cabin of the jumbo jet. The chair was as large as his bed back home. Molly sat next to him. Eddie and Raj sat across the aisle, trying on their free first-class slippers.
    â€œBreakfast is served,” announced a flight attendant, setting steaming plates of eggs and bacon down on their tray tables.
    â€œFree breakfast!” whispered Eddie. “And it comes with miniature salt and pepper shakers!”
    â€œAnything to drink?” offered another flight