"My mom's in seat 3A. I need to ask if I can use the bathroom."
Rebecca stared at him.
Then she laughed.
Not a warm laugh. Not surprise. A short, disbelieving sound.
"Seat 3A?"
Elijah nodded.
"Business class?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Sure she is."
He frowned slightly, not understanding the joke.
"She really is."
Rebecca folded her arms.
"Go back to your seat."
"But she told me to come get her if I needed anything."
"And I'm telling you the forward cabin isn't a playground."
"I just need to ask her."
Rebecca's face changed.
The performance disappeared. In its place came irritation sharpened by something older.
"Listen carefully. You are not going up there because you feel like seeing how the other half flies. Go back where you're seated."
Elijah's cheeks warmed.
"I'm not trying to see anything. My mom is there. Dr. Richardson."
"Doctor?"
Rebecca raised her eyebrows dramatically.
A few nearby passengers looked up.
"Yes."
"And I'm the Queen of England."
The adults who heard it did not laugh.
Elijah tightened his grip on the book.
"I'm not lying."
"Children who lie usually say that."
"I don't lie."
"Back to your seat."
He looked past her toward the forward cabin. It was not far. Maybe fifteen rows. His mother was there. He could almost imagine her sitting by the window, looking at a report.
"Can you ask her to come here?"
Rebecca stepped around the cart.
"No."
"Please?"
"I said no."
She put one hand on his shoulder.
Elijah stiffened.
The touch was not gentle.
"Ma'am, please don't push me."
The request should have changed the moment.
It did not.
Rebecca's hand tightened.
"Then move when you're told."
A man in row thirteen leaned into the aisle.
"Maybe just let the kid go ask his mom."
Rebecca snapped toward him.