THE JET DIDN’T HAVE normal rows of seats. It looked more like a living room inside, with couches and easy chairs and coffee tables. There were more Secret Service agents here, and to tell you the truth, they gave me the creeps- even though I knew they were the same people who sometimes protected the president. But there’s something about plain black suits, sunglasses, and little headsets that just automatically makes me twitchy.

Combine that with the inevitable heart-poundingclaus-trophobia that came from being enclosed in a small space, and I was basically ready to shred anyone who talked to me.

On the other hand, if anything dicey happened to the plane, I knew six flying kids who would come out okay.

I did a quick 360 of the plane’s interior. Angel and Total were curled up on a small couch, asleep. The Gasman and Fang were playing poker, using pennies as chips.Iggy was sprawled in a lounger, listening to theiPod my mom had given him.

“I’m KevinOkun, your steward. Would you like a soda?” A very handsome man holding drinks stopped by my chair.

Don’t mind if I do, KevinOkun.“Uh, a Diet Coke? One that hasn’t been opened yet.”Can’t be too careful.

He handed me a sealed can and a plastic cup of ice. Across from me, Nudge sat up eagerly. “Do you haveBarq’s? It’s root beer. I had it in New Orleans, and it’s fabulous.”

“I’m sorry- noBarq’s,” said KevinOkun, our steward.

“Okay,” said Nudge, disappointed. “Do you have any Jolt?”

“Well, that has a lot of caffeine,” he said.

I looked at Nudge. “Yeah, because after everything we’ve been through, we’re worried about your caffeine intake.”