Are We There Yet?. David Levithan

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      THERE’S AN ISSUE THAT HAS TO BE RESOLVED IMMEDIATELY. DANNY, bearer of the tickets, brings it up as soon as he and Elijah are through security.

      “So,” he asks, “do you want the window seat or the middle seat?”

      “Up to you.”

      Of course. Danny knew this was going to happen. Clearly, the window seat is preferable to the middle seat. And politeness decrees that whoever chooses first will have to choose the middle seat. Elijah must know this. Typical Elijah. He seems so kind. But really, he is passive-aggressive.

      (“Why can’t you be more like your brother?” his parents would ask when he was seventeen.

      “Because he’s ten!” Danny would shout before slamming his door closed.)

      “You don’t have any preference?” Danny asks. “None whatsoever?”

      Elijah shrugs. “Whatever you want. I’m just going to sleep.”

      “But wouldn’t it be easier for you to have the window seat, then?” Danny continues, a little too urgently.

      “It’s no big deal. I’ll take the middle seat if you want me to.”

      Great. Now Elijah is the martyr. Danny can’t stand it when Elijah plays the martyr. But if it gets him the window seat …

      “Fine. You can have the middle seat.”

      “Thanks.”

      At the gate they have to cool their heels for almost an hour. Danny is bothered despite his desire not to be bothered. (It bothers him even more to be bothered against his will.) Elijah reads a British music magazine and listens to his headphones. Because Elijah slumps in his seat, Danny doesn’t realise they’re now the same height. All he notices is Elijah’s ragged haircut, the small silver hoop piercing the top of his earlobe.

      Danny tries to read the book he bought, but it doesn’t work. He is too distracted. Not only because he’s bothered. He is slowly crossing over. He is realising for the first time that, yes, he is about to go to Italy. Every trip has this time – the shift into happening. Before things can go badly or go well, there is always the first moment when expectation turns to now.

      Danny relaxes a little. He puts away his book and takes out his Fodor’s Venice. Minutes later, there is a call for boarding. Danny gathers his things for pre-boarding. Elijah pointedly makes them wait until their row is called.

      “You’re sure you don’t want the window seat?” Danny asks as they walk the ramp to the plane.

      “Not unless you want the middle seat,” Elijah answers.

      Danny waves the subject away.

      Elijah charms the flight crew from the get-go. He asks the flight attendants how they are doing. He looks at the cockpit with such awe that the pilot smiles. Danny manoeuvres Elijah to their seats, then has to get up again to find overhead compartment space (the rest of the row illegally pre-boarded).

      Once they settle into their seats, Danny expects Elijah to strike up a conversation with his aisle-seat neighbour. But Elijah keeps a respectful distance. He says hello. He tells his neighbour to let him know if his music gets too loud. And then he puts on his headphones, even though he’s supposed to wait.

      Danny offers Elijah a guidebook. Elijah says he’ll look at it later. Danny doesn’t want Elijah to wait until the last minute (so predictable), but doesn’t bother to say anything. He just sits back and prepares for the flight. He is ready for takeoff. He loves takeoff. Takeoff is precisely the thing he wants his life to be.

      As the plane lifts, Danny sees that his brother’s teeth are clenched. Elijah’s fingers grip at his shirt, twisting it.

      “Are you OK?” Danny asks as the plane bumps a little.

      Elijah opens his eyes.

      “I’m fine,” he says, his face deathly pale.

      Then he shuts his eyes again and makes his music louder.

      Danny stares at his brother for a moment, then closes his own eyes. Fodor’s can wait for a few minutes. Right now, all Danny wants to do is rise.