Nine, Ten: A September 11 Story A September 11...

Nine, Ten: A September 11 Story September 9, 2001 7:46 a.m. CDT O'Hare International Airport It was September 9, 2001, raining in that Chicago slow-drizzle sort of way. Outside the windows of O'Hare International Airport, the sky was painted a particular shade of gray and leaving droplets of water on the large glass windows that looked out onto the airstrip. Sergio and another boy from New York were at the gate, early for their flight home. Their university escort was sitting, eyes closed, listening to her Discman, waiting for the boys to board so she could go home. What was the other boy's name? Sergio couldn't remember. L-something? Or M-something? For two days Sergio had recognized him as, simply, the white boy with the red hair. "Let's go see what's in the candy shop." The redheaded boy pointed to the newsstand, which was filled with everything anyone could possibly think of needing before getting onto a plane: newspapers, magazines, headrests, paperback novels, earphones, small suitcases, cold drinks, and lots of candy. Sergio glanced over at the escort, who didn't look up. She didn't even open her eyes. "Okay," Sergio said. He took one more glance around to make sure they could find their way back to their gate. Everything in the airport appeared the same, every corner, every window, every set of plastic seats, every gate. It would be easy to get lost. Sergio made sure he would not. Then he checked the information on the board again. Flight 563, JFK. On time, gate 10. His grandmother would be getting up right about now. It was Sunday. Her one day to sleep in. But she was probably up already, making coffee, knowing Sergio would be home in a few hours. Sergio didn't realize how homesick he was, he had been, the whole time, until just then, when he started thinking about his grandmother. It was the first time he had ever been away from home. And he'd only agreed to go at all because his grandma was so proud of him. Five kids from New York State had been chosen to be honored at this ceremony at the University of Chicago, all based on one math test they had taken at the end of last year. And for that Sergio had been flown to Chicago, put up in a hotel, and given three meals a day, and when they had called his name-his full name, Sergio Kinkaid Williams-he had walked across the gigantic stage of the Court Theatre and received his plaque, which was now weighing down his carry-on bag as he perused the newsstand. Kinkaid was his father's last name. Of his father, that was pretty much all he wanted to know. "You getting anything to eat?" the redheaded boy asked when they got into the checkout line. Sergio slipped his hand into his jeans pocket to feel the twenty-dollar bill his grandmother had given him three days ago. He didn't want to break it if he didn't have to. "Don't they give us lunch or breakfast or something on the plane?" "Yeah, but they won't give us Kit Kat bars." The boy with the red hair put two candy bars on the counter. Sergio shook his head. "Nah, I'm good." They finished checking out, and the boy handed Sergio one of the Kit Kats. "I hate to eat alone," he said. "Thanks." Sergio took the candy. He wasn't expecting that. It was nice. The redheaded boy began to unwrap his candy, then stopped. He appeared to be more interested in something across the store. "That is so weird, isn't it?" he said. He pointed. "What's she got on her head?" Sergio tried to figure out what the boy was talking about, but didn't see anything. "What's weird? Who?" "Her." The boy gestured across the news shop, to a girl with her back toward them, facing a full wall of magazines.