At the ticket counter, Kristy had to pretend one of Claudia's suitcases was hers, so Claudia wouldn't be charged for overweight luggage. We took our tickets and ran toward the gate.

Except for Claudia. She ran to the snack shop.

After eating a few Goobers and Heath Bars, and after another flurry of tearful goodbyes, we were in the plane, sliding into our seats.

My heart was pounding. My stomach was in a knot. I could barely speak. Claudia and Kristy were giggling for no special reason.

This was it.

We were on our way to California, JUST US!

Kristy got the window seat, but we all crowded around her. We spotted Sharon and Dad looking for us through the waiting room window, arm in arm. We waved, but I don't think they saw us.

Ding, went a soft bell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Flight 403 to Los Angeles," an official-sounding voice announced. "If you'll turn to the front of the cabin, the flight attendants will demonstrate the safety procedures."

Claudia looked excited enough to burst. Kristy paid dose attention to the flight attendant.

I tried hard to pay attention, too, but it was hopeless. I decided that if we crashed, I'd just do whatever Kristy did.

The plane rolled along the ground for awhile, then took off. Connecticut was pitch-black, except for the crisscrossing expressways. Over New York, I felt as if we'd shrunk and were flying around inside the circuit board of some monster computer.

We calmed down somewhere over western Pennsylvania. "What time do you have?" Claudia asked.

"Eight-ten," I replied.

Claudia stared at her watch. "Which is ... eleven-ten, California time?"

"Five-ten," Kristy corrected her. "We get into L.A. at nine-thirty."

"In the morning?" Claudia asked.