Capture the Flag (4 page)

Anna smiled at the last one. “That's what my mother says when she sends me to clean my room and I sit in my closet writing instead. It means she's losing her temper … getting angry.”

“I know,” the boy said. “These I have already learned. This is for me the most challenging part of American English. I keep a list of these … figures of speech, as you call them.” He flipped the sketch pad closed. “I like to draw what they say but do not mean.”

“Where are you from?” Anna asked.

“Pakistan. My mother was born there, and my father is from Turkey. Both of my parents are with Sounds for a Small Planet, the orchestra.”

Anna nodded. “I saw your dog dancing at the museum reception. He's funny. It's neat that you get to travel with your folks. How old are you?”

“Eight. Too young to be part of the orchestra myself, but my parents play tuba, and the orchestra was needing tubas. Hammurabi and I were … ah … part of the deal, as you say.” He held out his hand. “I'm Sinan. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I'm Anna, and this is José and Henry. We met at the gate with the delay and all.”

“Yes, it is quite a storm.” Outside, the wind was picking up. Snow blew horizontally past the big windows. Sinan tucked his sketch pad back into his pocket and gave the poodle a pat on the head.

“What's your dog's name again?” Henry asked. “Hamburger?”

“Hammurabi,” Sinan answered. “He is named for an ancient king who united countries and built many things. Temples, canals …” He gave his sneaker a shake so Hammurabi would stop drooling on it. “Unfortunately, our Hammurabi would rather chew things apart.”

“He's still pretty cool,” Henry said, petting the dog.

“Thank you. I should get him back to my parents now. The orchestra members are hoping to play for a bit in the main concourse if they can get the instruments out of the baggage area. Just to pass the time. Perhaps you would like to come listen?”

“Sure,” José said.

“I'd love to do that,” Anna said. “Let me go tell my dad. That'll be a great way to kill some time.”

They headed toward the main concourse with Anna and Hammurabi in the lead, Henry finishing the other half of Anna's sandwich, and Sinan scribbling furiously in his sketch pad the whole way.

The orchestra members were flipping open instrument cases and setting up stands when the kids reached the open area at the center of the airport stores and restaurants.

“Ohmygosh, look!” Anna pointed to the coffee shop, where Robert Snickerbottom leaned on the counter eating a cinnamon bun.

“Senator Snickerbottom!” Anna rushed up with Hammurabi so close behind that he skidded on the tiles when she stopped.

“Whoa there! Get back, ya overgrown froufrou pup!” Snickerbottom held his cinnamon bun higher and glowered down at the dog. “I know a would-be Cinna-Bunny thief when I see one.”

“Sit, Hammurabi,” Anna said, pointing to the floor.

Hammurabi sat, but he kept his eyes on the bun high over Snickerbottom's head. “Sorry, Senator Snickerbottom. But now that you're not busy” — she pulled out her mini video recorder — “would you answer a few questions for my school newspaper?”

He chuckled and wiped some frosting from his lip. “You don't give up, do you? But in fact, I
am
busy. I'm meeting with a reporter from the
Washington Post
soon. You should interview one of your little friends here.”

“Just a few questions?” Anna pressed the red button to start recording. Maybe if she ignored his “no,” he'd answer a question or two. “Like, do you think the Star-Spangled Banner will be recovered?”

Snickerbottom stood up extra straight and used a voice that was a little bigger and deeper. “The flag theft is a crime against America. And I'm doing everything in my power to bring this treasure back to Washington, DC.”

“So you think it's gone? Like, out of town?”

Snickerbottom looked surprised. “What gave you that idea?”

“Well, you said you were going to bring it
back
to Washington, which made me think that you think it's not in Washington now. So where do you think it is?”

“Well, I don't know, young lady.” He cleared his throat. “I need to get going.”

“Just one more question about the campaign,” she blurted. She'd been practicing this one; it was the kind of question she watched her mom ask politicians on TV all the time, and she loved it when they were put on the spot. “The latest polls suggest that Vermont governor Betty Frumble would beat you in the primary if the election were held today. Are you still optimistic?”

Snickerbottom waved a big hand in front of him, as if he could knock those silly polls right out of the air. “Of course I'm optimistic. Those polls don't mean anything. They have a margin of error the size of Texas!”

“Even so,” Anna said, “she was leading you by double-digit margins in forty-nine states.”

“Well, there ya go! We got fifty states, last I checked!” Snickerbottom laughed a booming laugh. Hammurabi's ears twitched. “And as soon as this snowstorm clears out, I'm off on a super-duper, twelve-state campaign swing, starting with Governor Frumble's fine state of Vermont, where I'm sure I'll gain plenty of support.” He tipped his big hat, and a Tootsie Roll fell out. He picked it up and handed it to Anna. “Here you go.” Then he smoothed his hair before he put the hat back on his head. “And here's a
thought
for you to chew on, too, little missy.” Snickerbottom leaned closer. “It ain't over till the fat cat sings.” And he walked away.

Sinan flipped open his sketch pad.

“Okay … thanks!” Anna called after Snickerbottom. She turned off her mini video recorder and set it down. She didn't have enough for a whole article; she'd try to catch up with him later.

Anna leaned over to look at Sinan's drawing.

“That's not really how the saying goes,” Anna said. “He got it wrong. It's supposed to be ‘till the fat
lady
sings.'”

“Oh.” Sinan flipped over his pencil and began erasing the cat, starting with its ears.

“It's a good drawing, though,” Henry said, leaning over to see. “I like the way you made the fur look real.”

Anna smiled a little. It was weird to see Henry being nice to somebody.

Henry looked at her and frowned. “What? Do I have food in my teeth?”

“No. You just … Do you have a little brother or something?”

“Nope. How come?”

“Because …” Anna paused. Part of her hated to give Henry a compliment, but it was true, so … “Because you seem like you'd be a good big brother.”

“Oh.” Henry shrugged. “Well, I babysit for my neighbor Will a lot. He's eight, too.” Henry looked at Sinan. “Will's pretty cool. I don't know who's going to hang out with him when we move to Boston.”

“You're moving?”

“Yeah. When school's over.” Henry blinked hard and pointed down the hallway. “So much for Snickerbottom's big interview, huh?”

Anna looked where Henry was pointing and felt all bristly inside. There was no other interview; Snickerbottom was ignoring her, back at the coffee counter with his men. They were whispering and pointing toward the back of the orchestra, where the Japanese drummers were warming up.

“Come meet my parents.” Sinan tugged at Anna's jacket sleeve and pulled her in the other direction, toward a couple setting up folding chairs. Sinan spoke to them in a language Anna didn't recognize and then turned. “Ammi, Abba! Meet my friends Anna, José, and Henry from” — he paused — “from the B terminal.”

The woman set down a chair and smiled warmly. “It is a pleasure to meet you all.” Anna caught a whiff of flowery perfume when Sinan's mother leaned in and held out her hand. Her handshake was strong, like the rest of her. She looked as if she could handle a tuba or pretty much anything else.

Sinan whispered something to his father, who was slightly taller and way skinnier than his mother. The man smiled and held out his hand, too. “I understand we have a thief in our midst.”

Anna's eyes got big. “Who do
you
think stole it?”

Sinan's father tipped his head and laughed. “Well, I don't think that's much of a mystery. It's pretty obvious who the guilty party is, isn't it?” He slapped a hand on his leg, and Hammurabi trotted up, his tongue hanging from his mouth, little flakes of tuna still stuck in his chin fur.

“Oh, the
sandwich
thief.” Anna tried to hide her disappointment. “That's okay. I wasn't hungry anyway. I'm excited to hear you play. Where do you go next?”

“Vermont. It's our last stop.” Sinan's mother smiled a little, but her eyes looked sad. “We had hoped to stay longer in the U.S., but some of the members' visas expire at the end of the month.”

“Can't you renew them?” Anna asked. “Maybe my dad could help. He's a senator.”

Sinan's mother shook her head. “Our manager spoke with Senator Snickerbottom about it, but it hasn't worked out.” She set up the last folding chair, and a trumpet player filled it, warming up with crisp, smooth notes that floated up to the skylights.

Sinan's mother looked around. “I usually help set up the speakers.” She put her hands on her hips and waved to a gangly blond man on the other side of the strings. “Guillome! The speakers?”

He shook his head. “Couldn't get them from baggage. Actually, the senator you were talking with before warned us not to request them, said it'd be a whole mess of paperwork, and they may not make it onto the plane if we try to get them out of the baggage area now. You're lucky to have your tuba.” Another tuba player blasted a low note from the back row.

“All right, then. We're in a small enough space anyway.” Sinan's mother squeezed between two clarinet players, past the trumpets and trombones, and lifted her tuba as the rest of the orchestra settled in. Once they were tuned, they started playing, a song full of energy and swooshes and blustering, like the storm raging outside.

Anna walked to the window to watch the snow. It was falling in bigger, fatter flakes than ever as the taiko drummers pounded out the heartbeat of the song. Anna wondered if they'd make it to Vermont in time for that concert. Nobody was going anywhere for a while.

The fat lady hadn't started singing yet.

There was plenty of time to find the flag.