Stealing Air (7 page)

They each grabbed a couple cookies and cracked open a soda. Then Max busied himself opening up the engine to check on its interior, and Brian and Alex set to work carefully unbolting the wing. Alex put on some music. “I know this song is kind of old, but it's really cool,” he said. “The band has a different song that sounds kind of like this. We'll hear that next.”

Brian tried to concentrate on unscrewing the Plastisteel on the wing, but he couldn't help thinking that
every
song this band made sounded exactly the same. How did all the popular kids always know which terrible songs were the coolest ones? Why was it weird to like older stuff like the Beatles? What was so weird about him that made him unable to care very much about whatever was new and popular?

“Dude, you okay?” Alex asked Brian.

“Yeah,” said Brian. “Fine. Just … listening to this awesome song.”

 

All day Friday, David, Red, Alex, and most of the other guys couldn't stop talking about that night's high school football game. “You going to the game?” was the question of the day. Even the Wolf Pack seemed excited. Once in the hall between classes, Brian could hear their giggly whispers about who they hoped to see at the game and what they would wear. It seemed like only a real loser would skip the game.

So as the band took the field with a marching tune at the end of the first half, with the Dysart Trojans killing the Riverside Roughriders twenty-one to six, Brian found himself sitting on a small corner of Abbie Sark's blanket on the grassy hill by the football field. He wasn't even completely on the blanket — more like half on one corner of it. Still, that was better than Max, who sat off to the side in the grass. Wendy was sitting on the other side of Heather, Abbie, Jess, and Rowena. The only other guys sitting down were Alex, David, and Kevin Stein, who had Mrs. Brown for homeroom. The rest of the boys were out on the practice field, playing football. That was fine by Brian. Frankie could stay with them.

“They'll figure out a better defense during halftime,” David said. “Don't count us out yet.”

Alex keyed some figures into his iPhone, probably game statistics for other bets. “Yep. Maybe.” He looked up and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Even a sure bet's not sure until the game's over.”

The Wolf Pack stood up, all except Wendy. They whispered something as they huddled close together, then Jess O'Claire pushed Rowena Stewart out of the circle.

“Come on,” Rowena whispered back toward them. They motioned her forward. She shuffled up to the guys, fidgeting with the crystal pendant she always wore. “Um, Kevin.” She giggled like someone had just told a joke. Her cheeks were as red as her hair. “Um … so Jess was wondering if you want to come with us to the concession stand.” Kevin turned toward Alex and David, rolling his eyes. Rowena chewed her thumbnail. “So, do you wanna?”

Kevin sighed. “I guess. You guys coming along?”

Alex stretched out and yawned. “Sure. Why not?” He stood up, along with Kevin and David. Brian started to get to his feet as well.

“Oh, hey,” Kevin said to him. “Would it be cool if you two just stayed here? You know, to save our places and stuff.”

What did he mean by “you two”? Brian glanced behind him. Max looked like he wanted to go along with the group as well. No wonder Kevin had told them to stay.

“We'll be quick anyway,” Alex said.

Brian picked a blade of grass and twisted it in his fingers as he watched David, Kevin, and Alex leave him behind as they headed off with the Wolf Pack. He was left out of the group again.

Then Wendy slid over next to him and he forgot about the other guys. He was sitting, almost alone, on a blanket with Wendy Heller. She wore faded, torn jeans with a couple of paint splatters, along with an ancient Riverside Roughriders T-shirt. “I know it's pretty warm out, but one thing I love about football games is hot chocolate. I was going to go get some.” Her face shone in the glow from the lights on the field. He could smell her sweet perfume. “You want to go with?”

She could have asked if he wanted to go with her into a fiery pit full of radioactive poisonous cobras, and he would have gladly followed along. Still, “Why didn't you go with them?” Brian asked, jerking a thumb in the direction the Wolf Pack had taken.

“Ugh.” Wendy put her head down, whipping her long hair forward over her face as if to hide. “I have to get away from them for a little bit. All night, Jess has been blathering on about Kevin Stein. Heather was supposed to ask him to go out with her, but Heather won't do it, so now Rowena's going to ask instead.” She flipped her hair back and looked at him. “It's like I don't get them sometimes, you know?”

Brian wasn't sure exactly what she meant, but he did know all about not understanding the ways of the Wolf Pack. He nodded.

“Anyway,” she said. “You want to go get something?”

“Sure,” Brian said. He and Wendy stood up. Max began to move too. “Hey, Max. Yeah, can you stay here and guard the blanket for us?” he said. Wendy had already started toward the refreshment stand. “Just … We won't be gone long.”

Brian headed off after Wendy. He didn't look back. He didn't want to see Max left there all alone.

On the way to the line for treats, he desperately wanted to say something cool or funny, anything to impress this girl. What would a guy like Alex say? Something about the game. “Too bad the Roughriders aren't doing better.”

Wendy shrugged. “Yeah.”

That didn't work. What would Red say? Something really bold. David would only talk about the game more. Max? Wendy probably wasn't interested in boring science stuff. He wanted to scream with frustration for not knowing how to talk to this beautiful girl. “You look so …” He couldn't just flat out tell her she was pretty. “That's a cool shirt.”

Wendy looked pleased. “Thanks.”

Finally, they reached the concession stand. “Two hot chocolates, please,” Brian said. It felt almost like a date, with him buying something for her. What would a really cool guy do now? “You want anything else?” he offered.

A woman came back to the counter with their two drinks. Her grin was sickeningly big. “That'll be one dollar, kids.”

Brian had noticed that anything an adult said that ended with the word “kids” was almost always gushed out in a high-pitched cutesy voice normally used on puppies. This woman was no exception. He reached into his pocket for his money and froze when he realized that all he had left was one dollar. He had just asked Wendy if she wanted something else, and he didn't have a nickel to pay for it.

“Just the hot chocolate is fine, thanks,” Wendy said.

He let out a little breath of relief as he slid his dollar over the counter, then took the drinks and handed one to Wendy.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I'll buy next time.”

Did that mean there would be a next time? Brian grinned at the thought, even as the first sip of scalding hot cocoa burned his tongue. They walked slowly on the way back to let their steaming drinks cool.

“I love football Fridays,” Wendy said after a long quiet. “I don't even really care who wins. I hardly watch the game. It's just fun to hang out with friends, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said. Who was she talking about? Did she mean the Wolf Pack or was she talking about him? He hoped she was talking about the girls so maybe he could be more than friends with Wendy. Hadn't she asked him to walk with her to the treat stand? It probably didn't mean anything, but he thought he might actually have a chance with her as long as he didn't do anything too stupid.

“Brian! Catch!”

A football slammed into his hot chocolate, crushing the foam cup and thumping him in the chest. The hot liquid splashed all over his chest and hands. It didn't quite burn him, but his shirt was soaked. Brian waved his hands to cool them.

“Are you okay?” Wendy tried brushing the cocoa off Brian's chest and arms. She spun around and shouted, “Knock it off, Frankie!”

Frankie laughed. He shouted to the guys, “Did you see that? Nailed the cup! Awesome!”

“Why do you have to be such an idiot?” Wendy yelled.

“I said ‘catch'!” Frankie said. “It's not my fault he's so clumsy!”

“I think I better go home and get cleaned up,” Brian said. So much for not doing anything too stupid.

Wendy followed him toward the gate by the school. “Brian, I'm so sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Brian said. They were away from the lights of the field, in the shadows closer to the high school.

“I wish you didn't have to go,” she said.

Maybe it was the pain in his hands, his anger over yet another humiliating incident with Frankie, or the disappointment of a great night being ruined, but Brian didn't think about what he said. He just said what was on his mind. “Why?”

“Why don't I want …” Wendy twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “I just … You're not like all the others, and I think … Just … I'm sorry about the cocoa. Have a good night, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You too.”

Brian walked home, more confused than he'd been in a long time.

A week later, Alex, Brian, and Max were in the hayloft in Brian's grandfather's barn. Alex swooped out on the rope.

“You know, we actually have a lot of work to do,” Max said as he sat down on a bale. “I thought you said you knew where we could find some more steel cable.”

When Brian and Alex had opened the flyer's starboard wing, they found that one of the pulleys inside was damaged. Worse, the cable that operated the aileron had been cut when the wing tore.

“Relax. We'll get the cables.” Alex swung in for a skidding landing on the hay. “Brian's grandpa tore down an old building a long time ago, and he saved a whole garage-door kit somewhere in the back of the barn. I remember seeing a bunch of cables and stuff.”

“We can't go through the barn without taking a timeout to swing,” Brian said. “Come on and try this for once.”

Alex flopped down on his back on the hay, laughing. “Yeah, right. Mad Max would never get on the rope like that.”

Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Brian was pretty sure he didn't appreciate being called Mad Max. “I just think we should concentrate on repairs,” Max said.

“Max, come on,” Brian said. “It took forever to figure out how to pull the broken cable out of the flyer, and now we have the whole front part of the wing and the cable and pulley system to reconstruct. We deserve a break.” He held the rope out toward Max. He wanted Max to swing, not just for the fun of it, but also to do something completely un–Mad Max. “Just try this once.”

Max stood up and folded his arms over his chest. “If I swing one time, can we go find those cables and then return to the Eagle's Nest?”

“I promise,” Brian said.

“Oh yeah, man!” Alex said. Max took the rope from Brian. Alex sat up. “This I gotta see. It's about time you had some fun, Max.”

Max took off his glasses and handed them to Brian. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and then ran out to leap off the bales, gliding out into the open space below. Unlike Brian and Alex who kicked their legs at the far reach of the swing, Max wrapped his legs around the rope. He didn't shout either, but simply swung back and landed on the hay.

He took his glasses back and put them on. “Now, can we please get the hardware the flyer requires and then return to our repair efforts?”

Brian held out a hand to help Alex up. “A deal's a deal.”

“I just can't believe we finally got him to try it. Welcome to the club.” Alex lightly slapped Max on the back. “That wasn't bad for your first try.”

Max led the way down the ladder to the floor of the barn. “I fail to understand why these sorts of initiation rituals always have to involve some sort of risky physical stunt.”

“Risky like flying an experimental aircraft?” Alex asked.

Brian laughed out loud at that.

“I mean, who decided the only way to be cool is to swing on a rope like this or do a skateboard jump?” Max said. “Why doesn't anyone ever say, ‘Prove you're one of us by solving this complex mathematical equation,' or ‘All the cool kids know the atomic weight of plutonium'? Why doesn't anyone ever say, ‘Wow, that is so awesome that you understand the entire warp propulsion system for the U.S.S.
Enterprise NCC-1701-D
from
Star Trek: The Next Generation
'?”

Brian couldn't figure out why people thought
Star Trek
was uncool. It was an awesome show. But he also wasn't surprised when Alex shot him a look that said,
This guy is such a nerd
.

“I don't know,” Brian said. “But that was a good swing.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “That was really cool, man.”

Max didn't say anything else, but Brian swore he caught just the hint of a smile.

They skipped that night's football game, spending the whole afternoon and evening opening up more of the wing to get the new pulley and cable in place. The trickiest part was hooking the cable from the aileron to the yoke. Brian couldn't quite get his hands in the small space to make the connections.

They met again the next day to keep working. Brian squeezed the pliers so tightly his hands shook, trying to attach the cable to the yoke mechanism. Finally, he let go. “That should do it. Pull it,” he said to Alex.

The yoke moved to the left when Alex pulled the cable. “Seems secure.”

Brian wiped the sweat from his brow. “Now we just have to attach the other end to the aileron and then we can start to close it back up.”

“Chips first,” said Alex, reaching for the Doritos.

“Chips first,” Brian said.

Alex and Brian both took a handful. Max watched them from behind the engine, or rather from behind the pile of parts that used to be an engine before he had disassembled it. He had pored over diagrams in a dozen different books and from a bunch of websites, trying to determine how to improve its efficiency and speed, but it looked like he hadn't gotten anywhere yet.

“Doritos, Max?” Brian asked.

“No, thank you. I'm quite busy and my hands are covered in engine oil.”

Alex climbed up on the table. “Then I'll just pour some in your mouth. You won't need to use your hands at all.”

“No, thank you. I'd really rather not.”

“Dude, I'm pouring these out whether or not you eat 'em. They'll get into your engine if you don't open wide right …”

Max groaned but put his head under the bag as Alex shook some chips into his mouth. “Shgoo,” he said. Pieces of chips fell out of his mouth. “'Sgood,” he said. Then he burst out with a laugh and bits of chips flew everywhere.

They all laughed. Alex picked out a single chip with just his orange fingertips. “You are a pig, Mr. Warrender.” He chomped down on the lone Dorito. Everyone laughed again.

Brian heard a buzzing sound. Alex wiped his hands on his pants, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and checked the screen before he started typing something back.

“To whom are you sending a text message?” Max asked.

“Hang on.” Alex kept pressing the screen. “There,” he said. “Just had to answer.”

Brian wished he had a phone. Then maybe he would get texts too. “Who texted you?”

“Oh, nobody. Just Red.” Alex checked the cable connection to the rudder. Then he went to the engine and looked over all the pieces, nodding as if confirming they were all still there. “Hey, you know what, guys?” He slapped his forehead. “I totally forgot. My parents … they have this thing … like, a dinner thing, and I have to go.”

“Right now?” Brian said.

Max's face was completely emotionless. “On a Saturday afternoon?”

Alex checked his phone again. “Yeah …” he said slowly, obviously reading another text. “Well, not right now. But it's a big dress-up thing with their friends.”

Max checked his calculator watch. “It's only two forty-five.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alex headed for the tunnel. “I have to start getting ready. This is going to be so lame. Like wearing a tie. My sister Katie will be in some dumb dress.” He crawled down into the tunnel. “Well, awesome work today. Check you later.”

When he was gone, Brian and Max stared at the tunnel for a moment. Max had the same look on his face that he wore whenever Brian made up a pathetic excuse to ditch him at lunch.

“I'm glad I don't have to go to some lame dinner with my parents' friends.” Brian forced a little laugh. “He probably feels like a total loser right now, don't you think?”

Max didn't answer.