Trent Reedy - Stealing Air

Brian could feel Mom stiffen next to him. She pulled a hymnal from the slot on the back of the pew in front of them. “He had to work.”

“Ah.” Grandpa coughed a little and cleared his throat. “I see. Well, there’ll be other services.”

Wendy took a seat a few rows ahead of them, smiling and waving when she saw Brian. He couldn’t make himself return as happy a greeting, and Wendy’s expression faded a bit as she faced the front. Even though he was feeling down, he should have tried to look happier to see her. He loved the way she looked in her blue dress.

He tried to pay attention to the hymns and prayers, but there was one thing he couldn’t get out of his mind. Some Plastisteel had been stolen. That was why Dad complained about not having enough for the demonstration with Mrs. Douglas. Someone had robbed him of his best chance to get the company out of money trouble.

He thought of the look on Mrs. Douglas’s face and the sneer in her voice while she asked Max where he got the Plastisteel for the flyer. Max had stammered worse than Brian had when Ms. Gilbert grilled him on the first day of school. Dad had said the lab had been moved to Iowa City after the theft. It must have been here in Riverside before that. And if Dr. Warrender worked on the Plastisteel at home…

It all added up to one conclusion. Max was a thief. He had stolen the Plastisteel from his own mother and then lied about it. Now Synthtech was on the edge of failure, and Brian’s parents were fighting because of it.

The pastor was delivering the sermon. Something about forgiveness and peace. Those were the last things on Brian’s mind.

After church, Brian changed quickly into jeans and a T-shirt. Without even bothering to ask his parents if he could go out, he grabbed Spitfire and tore off up the street toward the Eagle’s Nest. He hoped Max was there, for Max’s sake, because otherwise Brian was going straight to Max’s house. And Max probably wouldn’t want Brian on his case about the Plastisteel in front of his mother.

Leaving his skateboard outside, he went into the Eagle’s Nest, coming up out of the tunnel to see Max and Alex laughing at a Weird Al video on Alex’s phone. It was great to see them acting like such pals, Brian thought savagely. Great that Alex seemed to be getting over his problem about hanging out with Max. Really terrific.

“Dude!” Alex said when he spotted Brian. “You’re just in time. We’ve been working all morning and we finished the wing. Now Max is putting the last touches on the engine.”

Brian reached over and paused the video on the phone.

“Hey, we were watching that,” Alex said. “Max kept asking me to play it. Finally, I gave in. It’s really funny stuff.”

Max watched Brian with an even expression. “Unless I am very mistaken, something is troubling you.”

Brian put his hands on the table and leaned toward Max. “How did you really get the Plastisteel to build the flyer?”

Max turned away for a moment, almost as if he were about to ask the cardboard Captain Kirk for advice. “I told you. My mother… she had extra and she—”

“Liar!”

Alex put his hands up. “Whoa! Chill. No need to freak out and start—”

“You stole it!” Brian moved around to Max’s side of the table. Max staggered back. “I know all about it. My dad said they had all this Plastisteel when the lab was still in Riverside and it was stolen. If it takes them so long to make the stuff, your mom wouldn’t have just given you this much to play with!”

Max had circled around the other corner of the table and squeezed past Alex. Brian followed him. “I was so stupid! An idiot to think that your mom just said, ‘Here, son, I have some extra industrial-strength sheets of super plastic and I want you to have them. Just for fun!’ You stole from our parents’ company and lied to everyone!”

Alex looked at Max. “Is this true?”

“Well.” Max took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Sort of. I mean. Mostly. Just let me—”

“My mom and dad invested everything they had in this company! I had to move all the way to stupid Iowa! Where this stupid guy will be born!” Brian punched cardboard Kirk in the chest, knocking him back to the wall.

“Don’t take it out on Captain Kirk!” Max said.

Brian spun to face him. “No, I’m going to take it out on you.”

He lunged toward Max, but Alex moved between them. “Just calm down a second, Brian. We gotta work this out.” Brian shoved him out of the way. “Dude, chill! You about made me drop my phone!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for nearly wrecking your phone! Your rich father would have had to buy you a brand-new one.”

“You think your family is the only one going through tough times?” Alex yelled, shaking his iPhone in the air. “I didn’t even want this thing in the first place, but my dad thinks it’s important to have all the best stuff. Reputation, success, blah blah blah. If this breaks now, my dad will kill me, and he can’t buy me a new one.”

“Guys, stop fighting! I’m sorry!” Max shouted louder than Brian had ever heard him. His glasses were off and he wiped his eyes. Nobody spoke or moved. “I’m sorry for lying. I should have been honest with you. I didn’t realize that Plastisteel was so difficult to synthesize back when I acquired… stole it,” he said. “I thought this was a relatively small quantity that wouldn’t be missed, given the massive volume they would eventually manufacture. By the time I realized how much trouble my theft had caused, they had already filed police reports. My mother was so angry about it that I lacked the courage to confess what I had done.”

Something twisted inside Brian. Here he was screaming at Max for lying. But how many times had Brian lied to avoid going to lunch with Max? Which was worse, being a hypocrite like Brian or a thief like Max?

“Well, you’ll have to confess now,” he said. “You’ll give the Plastisteel back. They might not punish you that much since your mom—”

“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “It isn’t that simple. We’ve been working on the flyer for like a month now. We all showed it off to Mrs. Douglas together. You can’t just go to the cops and tell them that you’ve had this stolen property for so long. We’ll get… I don’t know… second-degree theft, or conspiracy to steal Plastisteel—”

“That’s not a real criminal charge,” said Max.

“Well, something!” Alex said. “Like it or not, Brian, we’re all in this now. Together.”

“Yeah, well, that’s great,” Brian said. “So my family will be bankrupt now because of this, and the three of us are going to jail.” Oddly enough, being involved in something with Alex was a big part of why Brian had agreed to work on the flyer. Too bad neither of them had realized they were getting themselves wrapped up in a crime.

“What happened to getting the flyer in the air, impressing that rich lady?” Alex said.

Brian examined the mostly reassembled engine. “Is she ready to fly?” he asked Max quietly.

Max kept his eyes fixed on the floor. “With the drag from the skateboard wheels, I don’t think we have quite enough power to reach a true takeoff speed.” He slipped his glasses back on. “I have some solid theories for improving engine power, but to implement them, I’ll need… more Plastisteel.”

Brian said nothing. Max was a good guy in the end, but now it seemed they were all stuck in a hopeless situation. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he needed to get away from all of this, at least for a little while. He went out, grabbed Spitfire , and left.

The next morning, Brian left the house early and rolled down to the ramps at Riverview Park. He was tired of thinking about the whole stolen Plastisteel thing. It was good just to move, to skate out his trouble. He popped up over one of the smaller ramps, sailing through a good two feet of air before his wheels hit the cement. He wobbled a little. Sloppy landing.