Dawn lurched forward slightly, her kidneys aching from the constant drumming against her lower back. It was only 45 minutes into the three-hour-and-fifty-minute flight and there was no sign that the kid behind her was going to stop his rhythmic kicking of her seat back.

“I’m going to say something in five minutes if it doesn’t stop,” she swore to herself.

She heard a murmur behind her as the mother talked to her child. Two sharp kicks punctuated the kid’s response. Dawn gritted her teeth. Surely the mother must see the child’s feet against the seat, must know it was annoying her. The five minutes went by and then another five while Dawn worked up her nerve to confront the people behind her.

She considered her options and weighed the possible outcomes. If she confronted the child directly, the mother might get angry. She could talk to the mother, but the mother clearly had no control over the child so what good would that do? Dawn didn’t want an argument; she just wanted the kicking to stop. She looked up at the “Call” button above her and thought about having a flight attendant deal with the situation. Surely that was overreacting. Calling a flight attendant over should be used in case of a medical emergency or for whispers about hijacking. A truculent child was not in the same category as a hijacker emergency. They would wonder why she hadn’t talked to the mother first.

All that thinking used up another 20 minutes and the kicking hadn’t slowed. Any hope that the kid would stop on his own was delusional. Dawn turned her head and peeked through the seat.

He was smaller than she expected. About 6 years old maybe – old enough to know better surely, but not old enough to reason with. To reach her seat with his feet, he was slumped far down, nearly laying on his own seat.  His seatbelt was unbuckled, lying unused on either side of him.

I could suggest it’s safer to keep his seatbelt on, she thought. If the mother buckled him in properly, he couldn’t reach my seat. It’ll just sound like I’m trying to be helpful, not that I’m complaining. Dawn took a deep breath, readying herself to turn around and face the mother.

“Stay right here,” she heard the mother say. ”I’m going to the bathroom.”

His answer was in a serious of rapid kicks, aimed viciously at Dawn’s back. She bore them bravely and then unbuckled her seatbelt calmly and rose up to peer over her seatback. The child looked up at her.

“Stop that,” she said.

In any other situation, the kid would have been passably cute. Soft brown hair curled slightly over his ears and his large expressive eyes begged something at her. Her heart softened. He was bored, stuck in this metal tube with nothing to do and probably hungry for snacks his mother forgot to bring.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The child looked right at her as he thrust his feet forward.

He knows, Dawn realized. He knows that a person is sitting in front of him and he’s kicking me deliberately.

“Stop kicking the seat,” she said. “It’s bothering me.”

Thump was the only answer.

“Ok,” she said. “Ok.”

Dawn glanced down the aisle. Not seeing the mother returning, she leaned slightly toward the child.

“If you keep at that, I’m going to take you to the back of the plane,” she said in a low voice. “I’m going to open the rear door and push you out. You are going to fall a long, long ways.”

The kicking stopped. The child’s mouth had fallen open slightly as he stared at her. Dawn felt her power over the small human. It felt good.

“When you hit the ground, you are going to go splat,” she added before turning around and buckling herself back in.

Regret over what she had done filled her immediately. Dawn closed her eyes and waited for the mother to return. Now the flight attendant would be called over. Fingers would be pointed and her words repeated back to her. Others would hear that she had actually threatened to push a child out of an airplane. She’d likely be sued for traumatizing the boy. The story would fly across social media. She’d lose her job. What in god’s name had possessed her to say those things? She couldn’t even enjoy the relief of no longer having her back kicked.

The mother settled back into her seat and Dawn waited stoically. Her mind filled with flimsy excuses for her actions: lack of sleep, anxiety at flying, not understanding children, the recent breakup with her boyfriend. Still, she knew, no one would care. They would just look at her in horror and ask once again – Did you really tell a child you were going to push them out of an airplane?!

It was awhile before Dawn realized all was quiet behind her. For the rest of the flight, there were no kicks and hardly a murmur behind her. At some point, she stopped thinking about it and focused on her magazine.

It came back to her in a rush when the passengers stood to get off the plane. The boy gripped a corner of his mother’s shirt as she struggled to get their luggage organized. Dawn sat back, waiting for them to pass.

“When I grow up, I’m going to push you from a plane,” the boy said clearly, stopping next to Dawn.

She froze.

“What in the world?” the mother gasped. “I’m so sorry.” She tugged him forward down the aisle.

The boy looked back at Dawn calmly and she felt him memorizing her face. Her mouth sagged open and she felt his power over her. He looked confident that some day he would make good on that promise.

# # #

Julie Howard lives in Boise, Idaho. She was a reporter and editor for more than 20 years, including for The Sacramento Bee, Las Vegas Review-Journal and the bygone Maturity News syndicate. Ms. Howard now focuses solely on fiction, working on her novels and sandwiching in the quicker gratification of flash fiction and short stories.

Photo credit: Terri Malone