His breathing had become fast.
The Junior Flight Attendant crouched several feet away.
“Hey.”
The boy looked at him.
“You’re okay.”
The Veteran Flight Attendant folded her arms.
“We do not have time for this.”
The boy whispered:
“If anybody tries to move me, Daddy said ask for Mr. Bennett.”
Both crew members went still.
The Junior Flight Attendant frowned.
“Who’s Mr. Bennett?”
The boy shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
The Veteran Flight Attendant looked annoyed.
“Probably a family member.”
The Junior Flight Attendant stood.
“No.”
Something about the wording bothered him.
Not call Mr. Bennett.
Not go with Mr. Bennett.
Ask for him.
Like a password.
Like a protocol.
The Junior Flight Attendant took the boarding pass from the boy carefully.
“Can I borrow this?”
The boy nodded.
He scanned the barcode.
Passenger record opened.
Seat 2A.
Confirmed.
Fully paid.
No upgrade.
No standby.
No seating error.
The Junior Flight Attendant looked toward the Veteran Flight Attendant.
“He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.”
She frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
He scrolled.
Then stopped.
A red service note sat beneath the reservation.
He read it once.
Then again.
His face changed.
The Veteran Flight Attendant noticed.
“What?”
He did not answer.
“What does it say?”
The Junior Flight Attendant looked toward the boy.
Then lowered the tablet.
“We need the purser.”
The Veteran Flight Attendant’s irritation disappeared.
“Why?”
The Junior Flight Attendant read the note quietly.
“Do not reseat.”
He scrolled.
“Do not release minor to any individual without authorization.”
The Veteran Flight Attendant stared.
He continued.
“Identity verification required.”
“Contact supervisor before any change to itinerary.”
The cabin seemed suddenly quieter.
The boy held the rabbit against his face.
The Veteran Flight Attendant looked at her own hand.
The same hand that had just taken his sleeve.
“I didn’t know.”
The Junior Flight Attendant did not respond.
He tapped the crew call.
A moment later, the Purser arrived.
She was in her forties.
Calm.
Experienced.
The kind of person who rarely hurried visibly even when everything around her was falling apart.
“What happened?”
The Junior Flight Attendant handed her the tablet.
The Purser read.
Then looked at seat 2A.
Then at the boy.
Then back at the note.
Her face went pale.
“Where’s his father?”
The Veteran Flight Attendant answered:
“He said the gate.”
The Purser crouched.
“Sweetheart, what’s your name?”
The boy told her.