Loki pulled his knees up to his chest and held the phone screen closer to his face. The hum of the jet engine rumbled through his noise canceling-headphones, the ones Mom had gotten him for his birthday.

Somewhere behind the frantic zombie fighting of Gravity Falls, the stewardess's voice crackled over the speakers, muted and garbled. He checked that his seatbelt was buckled and turned the volume up two clicks. Even though the plane speakers still came through, the headphones blocked out the endless chatting of the grandmas next to him. It had taken him an hour to detangle himself from their quizzing: where was he coming from? Why was he going to Phoenix? Was he travelling alone? Would his father be there to pick him up? He'd finally just disappeared to the bathroom and came back with his headphones firmly affixed to his head.

He glanced across the aisle. Thor was angrily mashing buttons on his Switch. Loki glanced at the screen and just saw the screen turning crimson and crimson and crimson. What on earth was he playing? Not The Witcher, Mom wouldn't have bought him that. Dad might have though, so who really knew? They'd been shipped off by the lawyers, so who knew anything?

The pressure started building in his ears. Finally. He was ready to get off this plane. Loki whipped out some bubble gum and gave it a couple chews. He could feel the little old ladies looking at him, talking, of course, about him. He turned the volume down.

"How irresponsible. Putting your kids on a plane all by themselves. Divorcees really can't be trusted with kid, you know my cousin Marge? She had three—"

Loki clenched his jaw. He growled, rolled his head towards them, chewed opened mouth, blew a huge, green bubble that obscured their judgy wrinkles, then smacked it, and let it plaster his nose, chin, and lips. They frowned, and he grinned. He was never gonna see them again, and they were annoying. Then he looked back to his phone and started picking the gum from his face as obviously as possible.

Forty minutes later, the plane landed and taxied to the gate. Loki fished his backpack out from under the seat and wiggled it up into his lap, a plastic wolf keychain swinging from the zipper. Thor was barely over five feet tall, so they hadn't put any luggage in the overhead. Loki blew a half-hearted bubble of his now flavorless gum. He definitely still had gum in his nose and no Kleenexes and no place to spit the semi-elastic wad in his cheek.

Across the aisle, Thor shut down his game and dug out his own battered duffle bag that he refused to let Mom replace. Too many sports victories or something.

It was another fifteen minutes before they finally got off the plane and stepped into the bright Terminal B of the Phoenix airport. Loki paused at the end of the jetway. The terminal looked like the forty other airports Loki had been in. Grey and blue carpet with an indistinguishable pattern of splotched and slashes, faux black leather seats with hard, fake cushions, shiny white tile scattered with sparkles reflecting the softened fluorescent lights. People sprinted to meet their connecting flights, running on the crowded people movers or bypassing them to sprint down the carpet walk down the center of the hall.

Someone jostled his shoulder and rushed past into the airport. Loki blinked and looked for Thor, but his brother was already out of the gate and into the main hall. Loki sighed and trotted after the older boy.

Gate changes and final boarding calls announced over the loudspeakers with practiced calm. Dogs in purses, dogs on leashes, small children holding onto strollers, and wheelchaired grandmothers with lavender hair.

The smell of travel—sweaty, harried bodies, fast food, fine dining, alcohol, and disinfectant all swirled together. The only breeze from the moving of lives, back and forth from gate to gate.

They followed the huge blue signs to the baggage claim and watched the conveyor belt circle with all kinds of ugly suitcases—floral, orange, hot pink, evergreen travel trunks. Their silver hard-sided luggage lurched by, and Thor grabbed them both. The weight caught him off guard, and he stumbled along a couple steps before he planted his feet and yanked both off and thumped them on the ground so hard, Loki expected to see his underwear come tumbling out. Luckily, it stayed zipped shut.

They dragged their bags out to the shaded pick-up curb where they were blasted with blisteringly hot air. Loki squinted at the heat mirage simmering on the pavement, spun on his heel, and dragged his suitcase back inside to the air conditioning.

Thor laughed. "Pansy."

Loki put his headphones back on and turned on his music. When Mom kissed them goodbye outside the Minneapolis-St. Paul's security line, she'd said Dad would be here to pick them up. Loki had no idea what Dad was supposed driving, but he figured two mismatched kids loitering just inside the sliding door wouldn't be too hard to spot.

The sliding doors hissed apart, and hot air rushed in. Thor walked inside, dripping sweat. He flipped down his sunglasses, and Loki squinted at him. Why was he putting his shades on inside?

Fifteen minutes passed. Thor finally texted Dad while Loki wandered down to the bathroom. Another hour, and Loki's phone was definitely dying.

"Do you think we have time to find a Starbucks or…"

Thor flipped up his shades. "Yeah. Dad's not texting me back, and I could use a coffee."

Loki pointed up the hall. "I think that's a directory."

"Cool." Thor flipped his shades down and took off with Loki trotting behind and the wheels of their suitcases clattering on the tile. They reached the directory and started up at the black and white map. Thor pointed to the red "You Are Here" dot and blinked. "Uh…"

Loki shot his brother a dry look. "I don't even know which way the Starbucks is."

"I can read a map."

"Cool. Which way?"

Thor dragged his finger down the screen until he found Starbucks and tapped it. A dotted blue line appeared on the map running from "You Are Here" to some random point. Thor traced it and licked his lips, and the wheels were visibly turning until the older boy dropped his hand to his side and took off in one direction that Loki was pretty sure was picked at random, but the Phoenix airport didn't go on forever, and Starbucks were every thirty feet in Minnesota. He had a hundred dollars on his debit card, so as long as he could plug his phone in, he'd be fine, no thanks to the damn lawyers.

They did not find Starbucks, but they did find a Lola's Coffee with three outlets, so Loki ordered an iced caramel macchiato, plugged his phone in, and texted their dad again.

At airport. Found coffee shop, have money from Mom.

Thor plugged his own phone in and pulled out his Switch. Loki finished three more episodes of his show and a breakfast sandwich before his phone buzzed with a text from Mom.

"Hi. How are you doing?"

Okay. Landed a while ago and waiting for dad.

Loading ellipsis. That wasn't good.

"How long have you been waiting?"

Idk a couple hours I guess?

"Hours?"

Loki winced. He glanced out the window, and it was getting dark. He looked at his phone, and it was five thirty. Well, damn it.

So… what should we do?

Another loading ellipsis. Loading… loading…

Tell your brother to text me.

Loki kicked Thor under the table. He snapped his head up and growled. "What?"

"Mom wants you to text her. She's mad because Dad isn't here."

"Kay." He turned off his handheld game and pulled out his phone, then he typed a little, waited, grimaced, then typed again.

"Let's go get dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yeah. I'm starving."

"What about Dad?"

Thor shrugged and grabbed Loki's suitcase too. "Mom said she'll get ahold of him. She put some money on the card for us, so we're going to B-Dub's."

There was no Buffalo Wild Wings in the terminal, but they found an Italian place open until eleven at night, so they grabbed a corner booth and ordered spaghetti and meatballs and Dr. Peppers. Loki finished his TV show and Thor beat the last of his game before switching to another one. He had marinara on his chin but didn't seem to notice.

Three Dr. Peppers, another round of spaghetti, and milkshakes later, it was close to nine, and Loki was getting ansty. Where was Dad?