No Passengers Beyond This Point Read Online Free PDF

the man of the house.
    I sit down on my seat and I read the sign. Fasten seat belt while seated, it says. How else could you do it, I wonder.
    When I’m all buckled in and my markers and paper are ready in front of me, I look at the man in the seat across the aisle. He has an almost bald head except for a few baby hairs in the middle. I think I know him. I look down at his feet and I see his green socks. This is the man who butted in front of me.
    “Oh, it’s you,” I tell him, when he sees me staring at him. “You’re the one who took cuts.”
    “Excuse me?” he asks.
    “In line. You took cuts. I saw you.”
    He rolls his eyes. “Lotta kids on this flight,” he mumbles, raising his book up like he cannot wait to read the next page.
    I pop up in my seat to count how many. “Six kids and one baby is not a lot. A lot is twenty.”
    He ignores me.
    “It’s okay about the cuts,” I whisper. “I don’t care. It’s Bing who keeps track.”
    I think he’s not going to answer. His book is hiding his face, but then the cover comes down a little. He points to my brother, who is sunken down in his seat. “That’s Bing?”
    “No. That’s Finn.”
    “Who’s Bing?”
    “He’s my friend,” I say.
    “Oh,” the man says, looking all around. “Where is he?”
    “Right here.” I point to Bing.
    The man nods. He has a tiny smile on his face.
    “You don’t believe me, do you?” I ask. “Do you want to see his ID?”
    The man shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he says. “Bing is an old-fashioned name. How’d he get the name Bing?”
    “I dunno. I didn’t name him. His mother named him.”
    “His invisible mother?”
    “I never met his mother. I don’t know if she’s invisible or not.”
    “Well, I’m sorry, Bing,” the man with the green socks says, though he isn’t looking at Bing at all. “Will that do?” he asks me.
    “Yes,” I say. “That was very nice. Where are you going?”
    “Denver.”
    “Denver! Hey Finn.” I jiggle Finn’s arm. “The man with the green socks is going to Denver too.”
    “That’s where the plane is flying, Mouse.”
    “Oh. Yeah.” I turn back to the man with the green socks. “Of course you’re flying to Denver,” I tell him.
    The man with the green socks laughs.
    I look at my mouse watch. “Do you know what time it is there?”
    “It’s one hour forward.”
    I shake my head. “Time isn’t supposed to move around like that.”
    “I don’t like it either,” he agrees. “I do a lot of flying and I never get used to it. The sky will be blue as can be, but your watch says it’s midnight. Midnight where you used to be. Eight in the morning where you’re going. Who can keep track?”
    I understand about not getting used to things. Pluto is one of those things I’m not used to either. Nobody has been able to tell me one good reason why he’s not a planet. Not one. Then I think an awful thought. What if My Solar System isn’t in my suitcase? What if Marvin has it right now and he’s blacking Pluto out of the book?
    “Finn, Finn! Could you get my suitcase down? What if Marvin has my book?”
    “Who is Marvin?” Finn asks. The man with the green socks looks at me like he wants to know too.
    “Finn, c’mon . . . pleeeeeease. All you have to do is pull up that metal thingy, see right there, right up there, and then the bin pops open—”
    Finn’s head doesn’t move, only his eyes look sideways at me. “India will kill us,” he whispers.
    I don’t care about stupid old India. It’s Pluto that’s important. “C’mon Finnnnnn,” I plead.
    He makes a grumbling noise in his throat, but he unsnaps his seat belt, stands up, opens the bin, and pulls down my suitcase.
    “I get to unzipper it. I do. Let me!” I shout.
    Finn puts his hands up like he surrenders. I unsnap my seat belt and unzipper the bag. Inside is my toothbrush, my other blue corduroys, my shirt, and my favorite pajamas. No socks. No underwear. No explosion