Chapter 30
“What the hell?” Val scrambles for the front of the plane.
I follow.
In the middle of the first-class cabin, the little ball of fluff from 5J barks like a rabid beast and darts from row to row. Its owner stands in the aisle, her hand to her mouth, paralyzed in what must be utter shock.
The woman in the seat across from her wails and paces. “It bit me!” she calls. “Please help…”
Passengers rise and try to trap the frantic dog. It screeches through the cabin.
Val turns to me. “Get that thing now.”
My heart’s about to rip right out of my chest. I follow the blur of fur, spy it ducking under row three, and reach for it. It snaps at me and bolts across the cabin. A lump forms in my throat. This is my fault. I blew it.
I beeline after the dog.
A man in row four throws his blanket over it. Swiftly, I scoop it up. It twists and growls beneath the fabric, but I secure it inside and rush over to 5F.
“My goodness, I’m so sorry,” the woman says, sniffling.
“Where’s the kennel?” I demand.
Dazed, the woman blinks a few times behind her glasses, then grabs the kennel and open it.
I stuff the blanket inside.
“She’ll suffocate like that,” the woman says.
“Hold the kennel so I can pull the blanket out.” My tone’s harsher than it should be.
She complies, and after some strategic tugging, we eliminate the blanket and fasten the zipper tight. The dog barks, growls, and finally whimpers. The woman pants alongside her dog, like she may pass out from excitement.
“Underneath the seat in front of you.” I take the kennel from her hands and stow it.
Speechless, the woman sits, still catching her breath. If she has a heart attack right now…
I wipe my brow and glance around the cabin. Faces stare at me.
“It’s okay,” I announce. “It’s under control.”
“It never should’ve happened in the first place,” the man in 4J says to me.
“You told her she could let that dog out of its kennel,” the woman in 6K says. “I heard you. I knew that wasn’t right. What a nuisance.”
“That poor woman,” another passenger says. “It bit her arm.”
My head turns in every direction. Like I’ve entered a time warp, I’m frozen in place, my feet like concrete. Each retort is another nail in my wrist.
How could this have…
Val.
Son of a bitch.
I bolt for the galley, my chest heaving. Inside, Val cleans the wound on 5F’s arm. The medical emergency kit lays open on the counter beside her. The woman’s plump face is strewn with tears, her silver-streaked black hair tousled and askew.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
Her lower lip quivers. “Does it have its shots?”
“I… I’m sure it does…” I stammer.
Val glares up at me, but speaks to the passenger. “It wouldn’t have been allowed onboard without its papers. It’s a hearty nip, but nothing more. We’ll see to it you get additional medical attention when we land. At the most, it’ll require one or two stitches.”
The woman sighs roughly. “Why did she have that dog out of its kennel?”
“Good question,” Val says, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.
The woman pins her tearful gaze on me. “You told her she could take it out and hold it, I heard you.”
“I did, but…” I stop myself.
I have to be careful how I handle this. Obviously, Val intends to take no blame, and if I try to place it on her in front of this passenger, I’ll be the unprofessional one. I have no choice but to accept responsibility and own the problem. It’s part of my training.
Val couldn’t have known the dog would get loose, I know that. But she set me up for failure. I just don’t know why. She needs me to pull in high ratings.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I tell the woman. “If there’s anything I can do…”
She sniffles but doesn’t say anything more.
“You better go check on the others,” Val instructs me. “I’ll fill out an incident report and copy in management. You should offer vouchers or something to anyone who was affected.”
“Shouldn’t I fill out the report?”
“I’m the senior attendant on duty,” Val says. “It’s my responsibility.”
I’d really like to give her a piece of my mind, but since damage control is most important, I head back into the cabin, collecting my wits best I can. I should’ve known better than to listen to Val—I have no excuse.
Passengers settle back into their seats, chattering amongst themselves from across the aisles.
I check to see if anyone needs anything, but I get a lot of cold glances and low mutters. The lady in 5J cradles her kennel and asks for a bottle of water. I grab a bunch of bottles and pass them throughout the cabin, along with real-time compensation through the crew app on my phone.
“On behalf of Aether Airways, and for the disservice, I’d like to offer you a complimentary one cabin upgrade voucher for your next flight,” I tell every passenger seated around 5J. Luckily, most are in the lounge.
No one declines the offer, but they don’t offer any gratitude or compassion neither. By the time the dog-bite victim returns to her seat, her arm bandaged, my phone dings with a notification.
I head back to the galley and examine it.
New rating with Aether Airways. Thank you for your service.
My heart plunges to my stomach with a hollow thud. I swipe the banner, open up my Crew Review page.
One star from 4J.
One star from 6K
One star from 5K.
My head spins. Words blur. I catch a few phrases that stand out:
Inexperienced flight attendant… Unaware of safety rules… Incompetent crew…
Within a matter of minutes, my score falls from 70, to 48. I plop onto a jump-seat, my temples throbbing. Is this providence? Or sabotage? On the one hand maybe Val won’t recruit me. On the other, my job could be at stake again. Another term warning, or reserves for the next year.
Val enters and uses the espresso machine. “You okay?”
Her tone almost sounds concerned.
“Did you…” I hesitate while I decide on the right phrasing. “Did you do that on purpose?”
Her face creases with what looks like surprise and horror. “Zanne, what an awful thing to say. Though, I guess this is a good time to remind you it pays to look up policy when you’re unsure.”
My head’s about to explode. I rise and barrel toward her until our noses almost touch. “You’re my senior attendant—you told me it was okay.”
“You have no proof of that.” Her chin lifts. “It was a mistake.”
“I just received three one-star ratings, so looks like maybe you only hurt yourself.”
Val holds my stare. “Hmm, well, that may complicate things. But it makes this incident a learning experience, wouldn’t you say? You know, like a reminder, that things can always get worse.” She flicks a brow. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, though. I’ll smooth things over with your manager… as long as you do the work to bring up your score. Once I’ve had my round, you can start with 8K.”
Espresso in hand, she turns and leaves me alone in the galley.