Trent Reedy - Stealing Air

Max cleared his throat. “Mrs. Douglas, you have informed my mother and Brian’s father that you’d like to see a more impressive demonstration of the potential of Plastisteel. You particularly suggested that you might like to see some sort of Plastisteel vehicle.”

“I’m not in the business of suggesting. I have so much money coming in that I can barely keep track of it all. If I can make a few bucks on this magic plastic stuff, then fine, but I gotta have fun doing it!”

“Precisely.” Max motioned for Brian to show her the photos. “In order to accommodate your desire for proof of Plastisteel’s potential, we thought we should show you these photographs of a Plastisteel airplane we have constructed.”

Brian held the photographs out to Mrs. Douglas, and she snatched them from his hands. She flipped through a few images before spreading them out on the desk in front of her. “Hmm,” she said. “You boys built this thing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Brian said.

She opened the center drawer of her desk and pulled out a magnifying glass to examine the pictures. After a moment she looked up at them. “Where did you get all this magic plastic?”

“Well, my mother. She… let me use some of her prototype materials,” Max said.

An amused expression crept across Mrs. Douglas’s face. “Oh, she did, did she?” She folded her hands on top of her desk. “Now, why do I find that so hard to believe? Does your mama know that you boys have made this airplane?”

“Actually, ma’am,” Max said, “we were rather hoping that we could count on your continued discretion. It would probably be better if our parents didn’t know about this project at the moment.”

She let out something like a laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

Alex took his phone from his pocket. “Mrs. Douglas, I could show you video of the flyer if you want.”

“Does it show this airplane of yours flying?” Mrs. Douglas asked.

“Um… no, ma’am.”

“Now why should I be interested in a bunch of pictures and a little home movie of an aircraft that’s not airborne?”

“I’m sure you can understand that the business of Plastisteel aircraft could be very lucrative, especially—”

She pointed at Alex. “You’re done talking.”

Alex nodded and sat down.

Max said, “Mrs. Douglas, I’ve made some charts and graphs to explain my theories on the potential of—”

“If I don’t want one child’s business advice, I certainly don’t want another kid’s boring science junk.” Mrs. Douglas checked her watch. “One minute left, boys.”

Brian didn’t even think. There was no time, and they simply could not afford to fail. He stood up out of his seat and approached the desk. “Why do you want to wait for something Dr. Warrender and my dad can make sometime in the future, when you can see this awesome airplane right now?” He pointed at the photos in her hands. “Just look at her. Imagine what it would feel like to soar through the air in this. With Plastisteel, she’s lighter than any other plane out there, and she’s, well, nearly unbreakable. Working on this flyer and being at her controls has been… just… awesome. Plastisteel is as great as our parents say it is.” Brian took a breath. “That’s why I hope you’ll tell my dad that you’ll invest with Synthtech.”

Mrs. Douglas looked up from her watch. “And with ten seconds to spare,” she said. She locked her eyes on Brian’s. “Have you flown this plane?”

“For a very short flight,” Brian said. “We’re still working to—”

“Do you think it’s going to fly?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “I know she will.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I almost like you, boy. You seem to have guts. But I am tired of vague promises. If you can show me proof of this plane of yours flying, I’ll invest my money in your daddy’s company. And I’ll forget to tell them about you boys and all that magic plastic that you somehow got your greedy hands on.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Douglas,” Brian said. He swallowed.

She stood up. “Don’t thank me. Show me the proof. Don’t you dare bother me again unless you have that shiny little airplane of yours up and flying. You understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all said together.

“Well, ain’t that sweet?” she said. “Now get out of my office and run along home. I expect you boys have work to do.”

“Jack, you’ve been at it all week.” Mom said to Dad in the kitchen. “I think you can take a little break. Church is only an hour.”

“Believe me, Diane, I can’t.”

Brian sat down at the dining-room table. They were doing that whole talking-quiet-so-nobody-would-think-anything-was-wrong thing. Usually, he would ditch out to his room whenever Mom and Dad were arguing, but this time he hung around, hoping Dad would win. No way did he want to go to Mom’s old church. All those old people that Grandpa knew, all telling Brian how much he’d grown and that he probably didn’t remember them… No kidding he wouldn’t remember them! He had been five or something the last time he had gone to church in Iowa.

“Mary needs help installing the new security system before the next batch of Plastisteel is ready this week.”

“So it’s ‘Mary’ now, is it?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You see more of that woman than you do your own family!”

“What?” Dad said. They both got a lot quieter. For a little while, Brian could only hear rumbles of angry talk.

“An hour, Jack. Just church as a family. We haven’t even been to one service since we moved here. I think it would be good for us and for Brian. You promised you’d take time for your family.”

“You don’t understand. We’re finally just starting to replace our stock of Plastisteel,” Dad said. “If there’s another theft, we are bankrupt!”

Another theft? What was he talking about? Brian stood up and went to the kitchen door. Mom said something, but he couldn’t make out her words.

“No! It can’t wait!” Dad shouted.

“Keep your voice down!” Mom said.

“I already waited too long,” Dad said. “If we would have had better security back before Mary moved her lab to Iowa City, we might not have been ripped off.”

It was quiet after that. Brian was about to put his ear to the door when he heard footsteps approaching. He rushed for a chair at the table and pulled the newspaper close to him.

Dad came out of the kitchen and stopped suddenly. “Hey, buddy. I didn’t realize you were sitting right there.” Brian kept his eyes fixed on the newspaper, though he had no idea what the article was supposed to be about. Dad glanced at the paper. “Reading the farm report, I see.”

Brian knew he should say something to smooth out the situation — something funny or cool like Alex would say. But he just sat frozen in his chair.

“I don’t know how much you heard,” Dad said. “Just… don’t worry, okay? Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s cool.”

“I could just really use this time,” said Dad. “I’ll make it up to you and Mom. I promise.” He mussed Brian’s hair as he headed off through the living room toward his office.

Brian used to hate it when Dad messed with his hair. He didn’t mind as much anymore.

Mom leaned against the door frame. She was already wearing her nice clothes. “Go up and get dressed,” she said. “I put your church clothes out for you.”

As Brian took his seat in a hard wooden pew at church, Grandpa shuffled in next to them. “Morning, Diane. Brian. Where’s Jack?”