Dana Ferinsco holds the pole in his hands as still as he possibly can. The sky was nearly dark when he started, but the first rays of orange and pink are just starting to peek through the sky. A can full of worms crawling on both side is partially covered in dirt. There are plenty on the side of the road, near where the mud and soft grass lie across the sand.

  He had left the trailer, as always, when it was quiet and dark. He did not want to wake his mother up, so he made sure to write her a note and leave it by her bedside as she lay sleeping. It was only a fifteen minute walk, really, and an old woman was kind enough to give him a ride afterwards. She smelled like peppermint, he remembers. She was a very nice lady. He adored her smile.

  When he arrived at the beach the tide had begun to drop.

  This is the perfect time to wait for the fish to start biting. With his dark eyes, he carefully eyes the surface of the water, the gentle waves lapping against the side of his boat. His dirt rimmed fingernails wrap around a hook, before securing a fat earthworm and lowering it in the water.

  A glimpse of silver catches his eye. A mighty beautiful trout, glowing, almost. Dana bites down on his lip, watching the line sway.

  There is a gentle ripple of the waves. He slightly leans forward, his reflection appearing on its surface. A small tug. He leaps forward, causing the boat to rock and sway. As he yanked at the line, a heavy splashing sound makes him grip the pole. He grins, struggling to keep the flopping fish in his hands. He never expected it to be this big. He holds it down through his arms, trying to secure it in a pail when a booming voice from the shoreline nearly causes him to lose his grip. He abruptly turns his head to the side.

  ”Boy, what the hell are you doing?”

  Dana freezes.

  Uncle John. His words are bit slurred, so it’s likely that he’s been drinking again. But he’s waving his arms like a maniac. The boat sways from side to side, and as Dana reluctantly picks up his oar, the heat of the sun causes his T-shirt to cling to his back. Sand clings to his bare feet and jeans as he reaches the shoreline and drags the boat forward. He grabs his scuffed up shoes near the dock and picks up his pail with the fish wiggling inside, tail banging against the rim.

  “Don’t tell me you hitchhiked here. Again.”

  Dana looked away.

  Uncle John roughly makes him face him. “Why didn’t you tell your mother you were heading out here? You need to stop that.”

  A deep shade of red falls over Dana’s face.

  ”Hey. I’m talking to you,” Uncle John continues. “Did you catch a ride down here? Have you lost your mind? Your mother is worried sick. We can’t have you wondering around here, getting lost in these fits of yours. That’s what the doctor says we got to watch out for, so we gonna do just that. You need to be taking your meds.

  His uncle’s grip is tight. Although Dana’s twenty-first birthday was only a few months ago, his wiry, thin frame made him appear even smaller. He timidly comes closer.

  Uncle John swats Dana on the back of the head. “Get over here. Didn’t I tell you to stop hanging out over here? You supposed to be getting ready for work.” He glares at the fish. “I’ll take that. Don’t know why you like to hang around this place, can’t have you scaring the tourists off. Put your shoes on already.”

  Dana suddenly holds the bucket in his hands, shielding it away. Uncle John gives him a bewildered look, before laughing hard.

  “You think I’m gonna take that from you? You must be out of your mind. Now, because your mother says you like to wander off quite a bit, you tend to forget things lately. I got your uniform back here in the seat, so hurry up and get changed, okay? Money don’t grow on trees, now does it?” He curses under his breath. “Got me looking like a maniac.”

  Dana delicately pats the fish with his hand, before settling upon the truck bed. As Uncle John mutters to himself and slams the door to the driver’s side, the young man places the pail over his lap and leans back, allowing the wind to catch in his hair. He smiles to himself.

  * * * * * * *

  The trip to Vero Beach Regional Airport, located only fifteen minutes away from the Ferinsco’s trailer in Gifford, is a trip that Dana would never grow tired off. The vast expansion of land and blue in the distance makes him wonder what lies beyond. He has just finished buttoning up his uniform shirt and slipped on his boots when the truck goes rolling off to a stop.

  Uncle John glances through the side view mirror in the parking lot and jerks a broad thumb at his nephew, who is gazing at the pail. A look of delight crosses his face as he caresses the creature flopping lifelessly in his palms.

  ”Alright, alright, alright—get off.” He bangs his fist against the steering wheel. “Dana! Do not bring that damn fish in with you!” He rolls his eyes as he parks the truck lopsided in an open space and climbs out of the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. “No. No!”

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  A pleading look crosses Dana’s dark eyes.

  “Don’t you start with me.” Uncle John scowls. “Put that back. Right now. You know what Mr. Harrison said about the snails and the squid last time. Do you really need to put TSA through this again?”

  Dana gives a longing glance at the pail as he approaches the window on the driver’s side.

  Uncle John sighs and places his hands on his hips. “It’s in good hands. Look.” He gestures to the passenger seat. “I’mma leave it right here, alright? Keep it in good hands until your shift ends. You can show it to your mother when you get home.” He clamps both hands on his shoulders. “But right now, I need you to stay focused. You understand?”

  After a brief pause, Dana nods and reluctantly hands the pail over. He delicately pats the scales on the fish’s slimy tail before dropping his head.

  Uncle John grins. “Attaboy. Now go on, you’ll be late. You got your ID card?”

  Dana nods and hops off the truck bed.

  ”Good. Remember, you have to go through the metal gates, okay? Mr. Harrison already explained it to you. You know what to do when you see the lady at the desk. You give her that card, and she’ll know who you are. You just walk straight through the machine.”

  A faint smile slowly crosses Dana’s face, and Uncle John couldn’t help but wince. The boy sure could use braces and a few extra meals. Lord knows his nephew’s teeth probably had a mind of their own. But Uncle John clears his throat and pats his bony shoulder. “Go on, buddy. I’ll see you around five.”

  * * * * * * * * *

  The best part of the airport were the windows. Dana loved how big and wide they were, and how he was able to see the planes take off and land. He could watch them for hours, to see how graceful the wind would catch them, just like the fishes swam in the water. They look fast. He also likes the music they played inside, but not too loud, since he had his headphones in, although he wasn’t listening to anything, as most people thought.

  Dana places the yellow plastic sign on the ground and continues to mop on the first floor, watching people come and go. So many suitcases and bags. By the time noon rolls around, he sees Mr. Harrison walking up to him, chewing on a frosted donut. He’s a stocky guy, with dark hair and a frown that never seems to go away. He wipes his fingers against his pants, leaving marks on the fabric.

  Dana wrings out the water from his mop.

  ”You took out the trash?” Mr. Harrison asks.

  Dana nods.

  ”Alright, take a fifteen minute lunch break. I want you up on that second floor and vacuuming around the seats in each gated area. And be thorough. Last time you left some trash between the cushions.”

  Dana takes off his headphones and places them around his neck. As he strolls past the food court, gift shops and other stores, the smells makes his stomach grumble. He reaches into his pockets, only to find that he has no cash on him, only a few quarters. So he goes to the gumball machine and twists the metal silver handle. Three pieces pop out, and he shoves them into his mouth. Strawberry, mango, and cherry. Not bad.

  The sound of an airplane taking off makes him quickly cover his ears, but he eagerly approaches the window with awe. He finds himself slipping out through a door, through an empty, grassy field. As he slips his headphones over his ears, he quickly spies a large shed like structure—and he remembers what it is called. He remembers the word in a book he read. He sees a few other men hanging out nearby, but once the coast is clear does he finally peek from around the corner.

  A hanger.

  Dana steps in, although he begins to shiver. It’s a warm day, but the cold air rushing through the place makes him hug his arms.

  The shadows of the planes loom above him, their wings stretching to the heavens. His shoes quietly echo against the smooth, vast floor as he gazes up with wonder. The large one in front of him form reflects in Dana’s large brown eyes. He grips the handle of the airstairs he ascends upwards, his fingers grasping around the cold, smooth railing. It is very strange to be in such a large, empty place.

  The smell inside the plane is something Dana is not sure he could describe. He makes sure to run a hand across the headrest of each seat, before the small door in front of him makes him remember another word he learned at the library. Something that the pilots say all the time. Cockpit. Yes, that’s it. Dana peeks inside the room, before hesitatingly sitting on one of the seats. He glances at the empty one next to him.

  Buttons. So many buttons and levers.

  He taps his shoes against the floor. Here the noise is not so bad, so he removes his headphones. The ground is so far below, and it will only get tinier when the fluffy clouds come. There is a strange device in front of him, which he deeply stares at. Does it—

  “DANA!”

  Mr. Harrison’s voice shatters through the thick air. He scowls as the young man immediately stands up, accidentally dropping his headphones. He bends down to pick them up, before cowering back in the shadows.

  ”You know you’re not supposed to be in here.”

  Dana clutches his headphones, his eyes downcast. He avoids Mr. Harrison’s gaze.

  ”Are you as stupid as you look? Clearly, this a restricted zone. But you can’t read, can you?”

  A lump rose in Dana’s throat.

  “Your break ended ten minutes ago, how did you even get out here?” Mr. Harrison glares at his watch and curses. “For goodness sake! Get out! Now. Get over to where you belong.”

  Dana quickly nods, immediately rushing past him and descending awkwardly down the stairs. He trips over his shoelace and lands at the bottom, before scrambling to his feet and exiting the hanger. Mr. Harrison stood near the entry way, his face seething red.

  ”That’s strike one, Mr. Ferinsco!”

  The warm sun fell upon Dana’s face once he steps outside; the roaring sound of the turbo jet engines made him clutch his ears. The wind blows his thick, matted hair back. But he gazes upon the plane taking off in the sky, imagining being as light as a feather.

  And slowly smiles.