Then she crossed through it.
Behind her, Henderson took her seat.
Ahead waited 14E.
A middle seat.
Exactly as she had suspected.
The passenger in 14F moved her purse.
“Sorry,” the woman murmured.
Maya squeezed past.
“It’s okay.”
It was not okay.
She placed her backpack between her shoes.
Her knees nearly touched the seat ahead.
The cabin suddenly felt smaller.
She sat perfectly straight.
She refused to look backward.
One tear escaped anyway.
Maya wiped it away immediately.
She would not give the watching cabin another scene.
Her phone still showed ground Wi-Fi.
She unlocked it.
One contact sat near the top of her messages.
DAD.
Her thumb hovered above the screen.
Then she began typing.
Dad. The crew took my first-class seat and moved me to 14E for another passenger.
She stopped.
Her hands were trembling.
Maya steadied them against her knees.
She continued.
The captain threatened to remove me when I asked them to verify the tickets.
Another pause.
She could already imagine her father reading those words.
Marcus Washington was not merely her father.
He was the sitting governor of Illinois.
That fact could transform a disagreement into a political incident within minutes.
Maya did not want that.
She added another sentence.
I’m okay. Don’t call yet.
She stared at it.
Something was still missing.
She typed again.
Please don’t fix my seat because you’re Governor.
Her thumb hesitated.
I just want someone to know what happened.
Maya pressed SEND.
The message disappeared upward.
She watched the screen.
Ten seconds passed.
Then twenty.
Her phone vibrated.
DAD:
DON’T DELETE ANYTHING.
Maya’s stomach tightened.
Three dots appeared beneath his message.
Marcus was typing again.
Then the aircraft door slammed shut.
The Wi-Fi symbol vanished.
“Damn.”
The woman beside Maya glanced over.
“Sorry,” Maya whispered.
She locked her phone.
Then she looked toward the aisle.
Karen Miller stood at the end of row 14.
She was not checking seat belts.
She was not closing overhead bins.
She was not helping another passenger.
She was staring directly at Maya.
More precisely, Karen was staring at Maya’s phone.
Karen started walking toward her.
“Maya?”
Maya placed the phone facedown against her leg.
“Yes?”
“May I speak with you?”
“About what?”
Karen glanced at the passengers surrounding them.
“Privately.”
Maya’s pulse quickened.
Her father’s message repeated inside her mind.
DON’T DELETE ANYTHING.
She stood.
Karen stepped backward.
Maya followed her toward the rear galley.
Karen reached for the curtain.
She pulled it closed behind them.
Then she held out her hand.
“Give me your phone.”
Maya stared at her.
The engine noise seemed suddenly louder.
“What?”
“Your phone.”
“Why?”
Karen looked toward the curtain.
“Keep your voice down.”
“You brought me back here.”
“Maya.”
“You asked me to speak privately.”
Karen’s hand remained extended.
“And now I’m asking you to give me the phone.”
Maya slowly moved it behind her hip.
“No.”
Karen’s expression changed.
It happened quickly.
The practiced flight-attendant calm disappeared.
Something nervous replaced it.
“Maya, don’t make this harder.”
“Harder for whom?”
Karen glanced toward the front of the aircraft.
“For everyone.”
Maya studied her.
Five minutes earlier, Karen had treated Maya’s questions like an inconvenience.
Now she looked frightened.
That mattered.
“Why do you want my phone?”
“I need to know whether you recorded crew members.”
“I didn’t.”
“Did you take photographs?”
“No.”
“Did you send messages?”
Maya said nothing.
Karen’s eyes dropped toward the phone.
“That’s private.”
“This concerns the flight.”
“My text messages concern the flight?”
“If you’re making allegations against the crew, yes.”
Maya felt something inside her settle.
Fear remained.
But confusion was disappearing.
“You already know I sent something.”
Karen’s eyes flickered.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Karen lowered her voice.
“Listen to me.”
Maya remained still.
“This situation can still be resolved.”
“What situation?”
“The seating issue.”
“You already resolved it.”
Karen frowned.
“You put me in 14E.”
“We can discuss compensation.”
“I told you I didn’t want compensation.”
“Then what do you want?”
“The truth.”
Karen looked away.
That answer appeared to irritate her.
“Maya, airlines change seats.”