The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

Maryellen loves to travel, and Mr. Larkin explains that his old Navy buddy Dave Blanchard, who lives in Washington D.C., has been asking to borrow the Airstream. Mrs. Larkin says they’ve always meant to drive it up to him, and with me here, now’s the perfect time. Everyone can give me a ride home. We leave tomorrow.

Everyone cheers. Mrs. Larkin explains that Joan and Jerry will stay home with Scooter, while the rest of them spend Thanksgiving with Grandmom and Grandpop in Georgia. Tom and Mikey will stay there while everyone else drives on to D.C. The kids are thrilled to see their grandparents, something Emma and I rarely feel.

Mr. Larkin adds that Dave will keep the Airstream until Christmas, then bring it back to Florida himself. Practical Carolyn asks how they’ll get home in the meantime, and Mr. Larkin says they’ll fly, and the kids gasp like they’ve never flown before. Mrs. Larkin notes they’ll barely miss school: just the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and two days after the weekend.

Carolyn and Maryellen agree the trip will be educational, D.C. is full of history, and Maryellen adds it’s full of art museums, too.

Then Maryellen asks what I think of the trip. Back home, Emma and I would never skip school like this, not with all our tests and assignments, and Coach Stanislav would pitch a fit if we missed ski practice. There’s always a nervous voice reminding me of everything I’m forgetting. But the Larkins do things just for the fun of it, and even though it’s not like shy, careful me, I hug Maryellen impulsively and say the plan sounds wonderful.

But a quieter voice asks what I’ll do once we reach Washington D.C., since I have no family there. I shrug the question away. Who knows? We’ll see.

That night, lying in the dark listening to Scooter snore, I miss my sister, who up until that morning was my best friend. Shouldn’t I go back and straighten out the ski race misunderstanding? My family looked so sad, and I owe it to them to fight the accusation that I’m a cheater.

The Larkins are so kind that I can’t keep misleading them, I think, a lump rising in my throat. Just then Maryellen leans over from the bunk above and thanks me, saying it’s mostly because of me they get to take this trip. Beverly and Carolyn agree from the darkness. I swallow the lump and agree, too.

The next morning, Mr. Larkin wakes us early with sky-high stacks of pancakes, flipping more onto our plates in his ruffled apron when Joan and Jerry arrive.

Mr. Larkin introduces me to them, and they pull up chairs at the crowded, syrup-sticky breakfast nook. Jerry jokes about how crowded the station wagon will be. Joan insists there’s plenty of room.

Sure enough, the station wagon is packed. Carolyn volunteers for the way-back seat among the luggage, Mikey sits up front between Mr. and Mrs. Larkin, and that leaves Maryellen, Beverly, Tom, and me wedged into the middle seat with no seatbelts, all the way from Florida to Washington D.C.

Then I realize the time may have come to use the watch and go home. But I also realize something wonderful. In barely a day, the Larkins have changed my whole outlook. If Maryellen can be forgiven for her mistakes and laugh about them, maybe I can, too. And if the Larkins really believe I’m “independent and enterprising,” maybe I am.

Am I ready to go back and stand up for myself?