Trent Reedy - Stealing Air

“This Plastisteel stuff really rocks.” Alex switched on the spotlight above the table. The forward, curved section of the right wing was dented in about three inches. A nasty crack ran back about four inches from the dent.

Brian slid his fingers along the tear. “Sorry about this. I tried to steer us around the tree trunk.”

“Don’t apologize,” Alex said. “You probably saved our lives. If we would have hit that tree head-on…”

“Alex is correct,” Max said. “Furthermore, you saved the engine.”

Alex winced. “Max, don’t use the word ‘furthermore.’ You’re not writing a paper for class.”

Max ignored him. “It was still excellent flying, Brian.”

Brian looked at the dent closely. “Can we just take off the top panel of the wing and then hit the dent from the inside, like with a hammer or something? If hitting it from the outside pushed the Plastisteel in like this, maybe hitting it from the inside would push it back out.”

Max shot his phaser pointer along the tear. “Your approach to repairing the dent might work, but this tear presents a more difficult problem.”

“Can we just put in a different panel?” Brian asked.

“I don’t have any more Plastisteel, so I’d prefer to align it on both sides of the tear as evenly as possible. Then maybe we could find a very strong glue to seal it up.”

“We could file it down to make sure it’s smooth,” said Brian. “The wing would be mostly okay then.”

“After that…” Alex said. “I don’t know. Maybe we could ask Miguel how to get it to fly.”

Brian laughed a little, but Max frowned. “The answer to our story problem is a bit more problematic.” He took off his glasses and chewed the earpiece.

“But it did fly,” Brian said.

“Yeah,” said Alex. “It glided for a while down off the highway until it crashed, but—”

“No, I mean on the runway.” Brian put his hand on one of the flyer’s wings. “She was flying for a little bit. She’d get up two, three, maybe four feet in the air at a time.”

Alex nodded. “Then it dropped right back down onto its skateboards. Maybe that’s the problem. Are there other wheels we could be using?”

“Other wheels I investigated were too large, too heavy, or couldn’t roll fast enough,” Max said. “Yet that’s still the problem. The flyer needs to move faster in order to overcome the drag created by all those wheels.”

Brian pointed to the rocket on the workbench by the wall, labeled the NX-03. “Why don’t we just mount that rocket on the flyer?”

“You have a rocket?” Alex asked.

“It’s how we got away when Frankie was chasing me at the skate park.”

“I was wondering about that. You turned the corner and we couldn’t see you through the trees.” Alex said. “So that’s what that loud noise was.”

“I don’t think the rocket method will work,” Max said. “The NX-02 exploded shortly after its first use.”

“Exploded?” said Alex.

Brian spread his hands out to mime the burst.

“We shouldn’t use it,” said Max. “Even if I could engineer it correctly so it doesn’t explode, it is important to consider the physics of a solid-fuel rocket. Once ignited, it will continue to increase speed along one straight line, making it difficult to maneuver the flyer. The best course of action is for me to improve the engine somehow. I’ll have to find a way to increase its power so the flyer can move fast enough to take off.”

“There it is,” Brian said. “You can take the engine apart and figure that out. Alex and I can get to work fixing the wing.”

Nobody said anything for a moment. Max stared at the engine like he had never seen it before. Alex wore a similar expression.

“Guys, don’t worry,” said Brian. “This is going to work.”

“You’re right.” Alex smiled the way Dad had with Mrs. Douglas. “We’re still going to make a pile of money on this. I’d bet on it, and I never lose a bet. Plus —” He reached down into his backpack and pulled out a bag of Oreos, another twelve-pack of Mountain Dew, and a cool set of iPod speakers. “I brought treats and tunes. It may take some work to get this plane flying, but there’s no reason we can’t have fun in the process.”

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.