Surviving Antarctica (32 page)

The helicopter started its descent.

The President closed her cell phone and looked at Steve. “Grace and Robert have almost reached the Pole,” she said.

“They’ll be the first kids to make it to the Pole on their own, won’t they?” Steve said.

“Yes,” the President said with a heavy sigh. “The world needs brave deeds now more than ever.”

Abruptly, the propellers stopped.

A Secret Service woman opened the door.

“We’ll escort the President to the runway, and then you can follow,” one of the Secret Service men inside the helicopter said to Steve.

Steve peered out the window at the crowd.

Security surrounded the President as she walked toward the runway.

Looking out the window, Steve saw a crowd of demonstrators outside the fenced runway. One little girl, her cheeks streaked with dust, hoisted a sign that said,
ALL KIDS DESERVE AN EDUCATION.

A boy about Steve’s age was carrying two oversized dice stuffed into a trash can.
TRASH THE GREAT EDU-DICE TOSS
was written in big letters on the side of the can.

A woman held up a sign with the words
GIVE OUR KIDS A FUTURE
superimposed over images of
the faces of the
Antarctic Historical Survivor
kids.

The pilot called back to Steve: “They’ve given me the signal. You can get out now.”

Steve walked down the stairs onto the tarmac.

Someone shouted, “That’s Birdie Bowers!”

Steve heard the name Birdie Bowers called out again and again. It was fitting, almost two centuries after his death, that a brave man’s name had become alive once more.

Steve passed a special area on the other side of the fence marked
PRESS.
The reporters seemed to lunge for him.

“Mr. Michael, can we talk to you?” a voice demanded.

“My newspaper will pay for an interview!”

Steve ignored the shouts and kept walking toward the President, who was surrounded by a group of aides. He walked up to her.

“I’ll greet the kids,” the President said. “Then you may.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” an aide said to Steve, “we’ll take photos with the kids and the President first, then we’ll get a photo of you together.”

A different staffer took hold of Steve’s elbow and directed him off to the side: “Stand here.”

A big plane with the emblem of the U.S.
government came into view.

From the loudspeakers came the strains of “God Bless America.”

The plane descended and came to a stop twenty yards away. Steve stared at the plane windows, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of one of the contestants. He found it strange that he knew so much about the three of them, and they so little about him.

A group of men dressed in bright-orange suits rushed a set of stairs to the plane.

A long drumroll came from the loudspeakers.

A cleaned-up Billy walked down the steps first. His face looked tense, as though he expected to be booed. But when a kid in the crowd shouted “Hurrah!” he raised a bag of Chocobombs, and the crowd outside the fence roared.

Billy grinned and kept walking down the flight of stairs.

Polly wore a short black skirt. She had pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She was just visible at the top of the stairs when the crowd started cheering.

Polly burst into tears and hid her face with the book she was carrying.

Behind her, Andrew hobbled down. He had a crutch under one arm. Even at this distance his
face looked drawn and white. One foot was swathed in a bright-green bandage, and Steve wondered if the doctors had had to amputate his toes after all. It was only then that Steve realized how close Andrew had come to dying. He felt tears choke his throat.

Andrew smiled such a sweet smile that Steve wanted to hug him.

Then Andrew’s dad started down the steps. The sight of the large crowd stopped him.

A few people booed. From the interviews of Mr. Morton that Steve had seen on EduTV, he hadn’t liked the man, either.

Two stewards carried Mrs. Pritchard down the stairs in a wheelchair.

Mr. and Mrs. Kanalski followed. Mr. Kanalski had a big grin on his face. Mrs. Kanalski was crying into her handkerchief.

Billy reached the bottom of the stairs. He walked over to the President as if he had known her all his life.

The President shook Billy’s hand and congratulated him.

Lights flashed, and Billy grinned.

Steve guessed that Billy’s dad would post the photo on Billy’s website.

Polly approached the President. She walked hesitantly, as if she were afraid.

Billy stepped aside and looked around. He spotted Steve standing all alone a few paces away, and a puzzled look crossed his face.

The crowd, sensing the drama unfolding, began chanting Birdie Bowers’s name.

Andrew, barely on the ground, stopped. He seemed to be listening to the crowd. He slowly turned and looked at Steve.

Polly squinted at Steve in the bright sun.

Andrew turned red, then white. He veered away from the President and started hobbling as fast as he could toward Steve.

Polly and Billy joined him.

Why am I standing here like a fool, watching? Steve rushed forward to welcome the kids home.

Abbreviations refer to the works cited in the Bibliography. Material cited here in
italics
is a direct quote; information based on works cited is roman.

Carol Bennett, Dean Burkhardt, Franci Crane, Jill Jewett, Elena Marks, Gail Gross, Ellen Susman, and Michael Zilkha have read and helped me with countless drafts of many manuscripts, and I will always be grateful. My book group, composed of Sarah Cortez, Bettie Carrell, and Rachel Weissenstein, has been a constant source of encouragement and wisdom. I appreciate the friendship and professional editing of Amy Storrow, Emily Hanlon, Gail Storey, and Nora Shire. But for the patience of my husband, Bill White, I would not have stuck with writing. Thanks to my mother, Patsi Ferguson, for reading a yet unpublished novel. Thanks to Gar Bering for technical help.

Chas Jhin, Andy Marks, Craig Smyser, and Stephen, Elena, and Will White were my most faithful young readers. Thanks to Colton Bay, Winston Chang, Brent Doctor, Ashley Helm, Drew Jackson, Meghan Lewis, Salima and Shamsa Mangalji, John and Patrick Scully, Georgiana and Claire Smyser, Colleen Thurman, Sam Wilburn, and Daniel Zilkha, who also read my book and gave me valuable feedback. Finally—and most important—thanks to Marni Hettena and her fourth-grade class—Alex
Bennett, Sam Bursten, Ryan Cooper, Dominique Dawley, Thomas Deskin, Julia Eads, Madison Feanny, Will Flanders, Graham Gaylor, Marion Hayes, Evan Henke, Michael Kumpas, Taylor Mattingly, Bruce Veyna, Stephen White, Elizabeth Wright, and Jeffrey Zuspan. You believed in me as a writer before I believed in myself.

After nine years of hard work, Ann Tobias, my agent, was an unexpected and wonderful gift to me. Sally Doherty, my editor, vastly improved the book with her many thoughtful comments. It takes a village to publish a first book, and I thank mine.

The author and publisher gratefully acknowledge the following for permission to reprint pieces from the copyrighted material listed below.

Cherry: A Life of Apsley Cherry-Gerrard
By Sara Wheeler
Random House, New York, 2002

Letter to E. Bowers,
October 27, 1911, and
Letter to May Bowers,
January 18, 1912
By H. R. Bowers
Archives
Copyright, Design and Patent Act (1988)
Permission granted by Scott Polar Research Institute, University of Cambridge, U.K.