We pulled up in front of the doors. As I went to climb out, Tad gently took my arm. “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you really sure?”

“I’m positive.”

But I wasn’t nearly as sure as I was trying to sound. I knew this might turn out to be the completely wrong thing to do—a waste of time and money, almost three thousand dollars for the ticket. They were probably just fine, and if they weren’t, what could I do? Okay, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to do, but I had to do it.

“How are you going to find them?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll figure that out when I get there. I just know I’ll find them. I will.”

He wrapped his arms around me. It felt safe and warm and good. I could just stay here and wait. I could…

No, I couldn’t.

—

The plane touched down in Bangkok. It had been twenty-seven hours since we’d left New York. The plane had been delayed a little during the layover in Tokyo, and then we’d circled over Bangkok for more than an hour before we were finally able to set down. The flight attendant had explained that there was increased air traffic because of all the relief planes landing with aid. It was reassuring to know that there was help coming, but frustrating to wait in line to land. I needed to get on the ground.

As we taxied along the runway I turned on my cellphone. It had been ages since I’d been able to check for messages, and now I was hoping for magic. I’d turn on the phone and it would ring and it would be my father, or Tad, telling me he’d spoken to my parents. I’d just have to wait a few minutes for that call to come through.

Next I took off my watch. It wasn’t eight-thirty in the evening on December 27. It was seven-thirty in the morning, and the date was December 28. I changed the time.

The plane came to a stop and the little seat belt light went out. I pulled my backpack out from under the seat in front of me and got to my feet, along with everybody else. There were lots of empty seats—many more than there were passengers. I’d been worried about not getting on a flight out, but I needn’t have been concerned. The airlines had put on extra planes to bring people home, and, as the attendant selling me the ticket had explained, tourists were all trying to leave Thailand, not arrive. So this plane would arrive half empty and leave completely filled up, with more people waiting to get on the next flight.

That might make it hard for us to get a plane back to New York immediately, but I didn’t care. Once we were all together, it wouldn’t matter. If I knew my father, he probably wouldn’t even want to leave. He’d probably suggest we find someplace, well away from the beach, that was still operating and just finish out the holiday. Maybe I would spend at least part of the Christmas holidays with my family. I knew my swim coach might be angry, but he was the least of my worries.