My Mom Flies An Fighter Jet

behind a line of scrub trees. She turned to me. Lucas, listen to me. If anything happens, you stay with June.

No.

Lucas.

No. You don’t get to tell me I’m part of this and then tell me to wait in a truck.

Her face hardened, then softened. You are thirteen.

And apparently the living key to an invisible airplane.

Aunt June snorted. He has your mouth too.

Mom continue reading …