Page 76 of Under Southern Stars
Sophia rolls her eyes. “Says the girl who owns exactly one mascara and a tinted lip balm.”
The drive to the airport is filled with this kind of easy banter. Sophia has her usual coffee in hand—the velvety flat white she’s finally admitted to enjoying—and a folder with printed confirmations, passport copies, and a meticulous itinerary. Classic Sophia, prepared for any emergency from missed connections to spontaneous appendicitis.
Madison alternates between teenage excitement and studied nonchalance, the way only fifteen-year-olds can. One moment she is peppered with questions about New Zealand, the next pretending she is not remotely impressed by anything.
“So I can’t get a kiwi as a pet, right?” she asks as we merge onto the highway.
“Absolutely not,” I confirm. “They’re endangered, nocturnal, and would hate your bedroom. Also, the smell-”
“But they’re so cute! With their little beaks and fuzzy bodies.”
“You can visit them at wildlife sanctuaries,” I promise. “They’re actually quite large—bigger than people expect.”
“Like how big? Chicken size?”
“More like a small cat. And their eggs are enormous compared to their body size.”
Madison’s eyes widen. “Cool. What else should I know before we go? Any cultural things I might mess up?”
I consider this. “Don’t call us Aussies. Don’t say our accent sounds like Australia. In fact, just don’t mention Australia at all unless you’re prepared for a twenty-minute lecture.”
“Got it. Australia is New Zealand’s Canada.”
I laugh. “Something like that. And don’t worry about Maori pronunciation. Most Kiwis appreciate the effort even if you get it wrong.”
“What about that thing you call mom sometimes? Ta-koo something?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Taku ipo. It means ‘my darling’ in Maori.”
“That’s sweet,” Sophia says, her fingers finding mine across the console. “Though your accent makes everything sound sweet.”
“Gross,” Madison declares from the backseat. “But also kind of cute, I guess.”
We arrive at the international terminal three hours before our flight, as Sophia has insisted. (“What if there’s a security incident? Or a line? Or a global pandemic?”) Check-in is mercifully quick.
“Can I have the window seat?” Madison asks as we head toward security. “I want to see everything during takeoff.”
“Absolutely,” I agree. “I’m an aisle man myself.”
As we join the security line, Sophia leans close to me, her voice lowered. “I have no problem with Madison having thewindow, but between us, I’m a little jealous. I love window seats on planes.”
“Don’t worry,taku ipo,” I say, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’ll work out.”
She looks up at me, brow furrowed slightly at my tone. “What does that mean?”
“That I’m looking forward to sixteen hours with you beside me.”
She studies me a moment longer, then shakes her head with a small smile. “You’re being mysterious.”
“Just excited to show you my home.”
Security is a breeze, and we make our way through the terminal toward our gate. Madison marvels at the duty-free shops, while Sophia keeps checking her watch and consulting her folder.
“We’re fine for time,” I assure her, guiding them through the international concourse. “The gate’s just up ahead.”
As we approach Gate 17, the Air New Zealand Koru logo makes my heart skip. It has been too long since I’d been home.
We find seats near the boarding area, and Madison immediately asks about the in-flight movies. “Will they have the new Marvel one? Or do they have different movies in New Zealand?”
