Girl on a Plane by Miriam Moss

say. “Guaranteed to raise spirits.”
    He laughs shortly. “Sorry. Didn’t realize that was my designated role.”
    â€œIt won’t be this hot when it gets dark, will it?” Tim says hopefully, his face bright pink.
    â€œNo, it should cool down,” David says, “but then we’ll probably freeze. We’re in the desert, after all.”
    â€œGreat,” I say. “Though, frankly, anything will be better than this. Even the soles of my feet are sweating, for God’s sake.”
    â€œIf I was in a cartoon,” Tim says, “there’d be smoke coming out of my ears.”
    â€œWhy don’t you roll up the sleeves of your shirt? And I’d take your shoes and socks off too.” I help get him organized.
    â€œFunny we haven’t heard about the other planes,” David says. “They must be here too somewhere.”
    â€œThe two hijacked earlier? Why don’t you ask him?” I nod at the Arab opposite us.
    â€œGood idea.” David leans over and touches him on the arm. “Excuse me, sir,” he says. “We heard that two other planes were hijacked and taken to Jordan earlier this week, and we wondered if you can see them through your window. There aren’t any on this side.”
    â€œYes, yes, dear boy,” he replies kindly. “Apparently they are here, but it’s difficult to see through these portholes. The Swissair is farther back and on our left—​I can
just
see the nose—​and the stewardess said the TWA was behind us, so out of sight. But mostly I only see guerrillas swarming about.”
    â€œThanks.” David turns back to us. “Did you get that?” Tim and I nod. “I wonder what the people in those planes are feeling like by now? They’ve been here three days already. Christ, I couldn’t take this heat for three days.”
    â€œDo you think they have bombs on board too?” Tim asks.
    â€œI expect so,” replies David.
    â€œThey must have given them some food,” Tim says, “or they’d be skeletons by now.”
    â€œNo, not quite yet, Tim,” David says. “And of course they’ll be feeding them.” But I can see he’s not so sure.
    â€œDo you think someone there will seriously lose it, like that man at the back did?” Tim asks cheerfully.
    â€œYou mean they’ll set off a bomb?” David says. “And because we’re close enough, we blow up as well?”
    â€œEr, thanks, you two, that’s probably enough.” They’re making me feel jittery again.
    David puts an arm around me. “We’d better stop, Tim.” He shakes his head. “
She
can’t take it.”
    I shrug him off. “God, you’re so patronizing. Why don’t we swap seats so you two boys can talk fascinating boys’ stuff together and I can sit in peace in the aisle seat for a change?”
    David raises his eyebrows. “You really want to?”
    â€œYes, just for a bit.”
    â€œOK.” He lifts the armrest, and I semi-stand while he slides under me, into my seat, and I try slipping into his. It’s a bit of a sticky tangle, and at one point I regret asking him, but we do manage it—​eventually.
    I’m just settling down to enjoy the new, clear view up and down the aisle, when my calm is broken by the captain raising his voice at the front: “But the passengers haven’t had anything proper to eat or drink for ages,” he says to the Giant. “We didn’t take on any supplies at Beirut except fuel, so we’ll need food and water to be brought on board very soon.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” the Giant replies, “but we have none spare at the moment. You will have to wait.”
    I turn to David. “Did you hear that?”
    â€œHe can’t be serious,” he says.
    â€œWhere have the other two hijackers gone?” the captain asks. “The ones