Trent Reedy - Stealing Air

“It’s a radio communication set,” Max said.

“It’s not just any old radio!” Alex answered. “This is the PRC-77, a retired military radio. This sucker can take a hit and keep on rolling.” He reached into the box and pulled out another identical unit. “These things usually cost a fortune on eBay, but I’ve been looking all over the Internet and at military surplus stores and stuff, and you’ll never believe this. Both radios, with batteries, antennae, and handsets, and I got the whole thing for, like, two hundred bucks!”

“You had two hundred dollars?” Brian asked.

“I called in a lot of bets and used savings from my birthday and stuff.” Alex shrugged. “My point is, guys, now we can have a radio on the ground with Max and another up in the flyer. When the flyer is finally airborne, Max will be able to direct us around for all the cameras and stuff.”

“If we can get this thing to fly,” Max said.

Alex put his arm around Max’s shoulders. “Of course we can get it to fly! I just spent two hundred bucks on radio equipment that says we can fly. You guys each take a radio home. Test them out. You’ll love them. Now all we have to do is rework the engine. And we already have it all taken apart to do that.”

Listening to him, Brian started to believe in the flyer again too. They had been close, after all. The first takeoff was almost a success, and the balloon plan might have worked if they had been able to have a controlled release.

“Come on, Max,” Alex said. “You’re a genius. I know you got some magic left in you to fix up this engine.”

Max looked doubtful. “I suppose I could—”

“Yes! We’re back in business,” Alex said. “And you know what else the flyer needs? A name. A good name this time.”

“How about Kendra?” Brian said. “You said it has to be a girl’s name.”

Alex rubbed his knuckles on his chin. “Tempting, but I was thinking —” He slapped his hands down on the center table. “Guys! Seriously! Why do we always have to play this Stone Age music?” He pulled his own iPod from his bag and went toward the speakers.

Max shook his head. “Just leave it! We always listen to what you want to hear. We do whatever you want to, just because you think you know what’s cool. What makes your stuff so great? So superior? Just because it came out in the last two weeks! And what will happen two weeks from now?” Alex opened his mouth to speak, but Max held his hand up. “I’ll tell you! In two weeks the song you’re about to play right now will be old and everyone will say it’s crap. Why? Because it really is crap!”

Nobody moved for a moment. Brian caught Alex’s glance. Alex put his iPod down. “Wow. Dude, chill. It’s okay. We can listen to—”

“He’s right,” Brian said.

In the silence, the song on the White Album changed to “Blackbird.”

“I know you guys are upset about whatever Frankie did tonight, but don’t take it out on me. What did I—”

“This is it!” Brian said.

“What is?” Alex asked.

Brian smiled. “Oh, it’s perfect. ‘Blackbird.’” He restarted the song so they could listen to the words.

Brian looked at Alex. “You said the flyer needs a new name. It’s right in this song. All that stuff about waiting for this moment. About being free. About flying! Don’t you see?”

“About fixing broken wings.” Max took off his glasses and chewed on the earpiece.

Brian nodded. “We’ll call her Blackbird .”

Alex patted the wing. “There’s nothing black about it. It’s bright white.”

“I believe that’s what they call irony,” Max said.

“And the song is on the White Album , get it?” Brian said.

“No,” Alex said. “I don’t get it.”

“Who votes to call her Blackbird ?” Brian said. He raised his hand. Max raised his too.

Alex shrugged. “Okay. You win. Blackbird it is. It’ll fly soon enough.”

They worked for a long time that night, listening to some more Beatles for Brian, and even some Weird Al after Max asked for it. They drank soda until the twenty-four pack was nearly empty. By the time they were done, the engine was perfectly clean and reassembled.

“Well,” Max said. “ Blackbird is restored. It’s ready for another trial run.”

Brian thought late into the night. Ever since Frankie had messed up Brian’s first day on the half-pipe here in Riverside, he had been trying to fly, but crashing. With the flyer, with the guys at school, or with Wendy, as soon as things were looking up, everything went right back down. Grandpa’s advice to fight Frankie had resulted not only in Brian breaking his promise to Wendy, but also a complete disaster. Now Brian, like Blackbird , needed a new plan.

The next morning at school, he stowed his things in his locker and went into homeroom. Wendy sat at her desk, with Abbie, Jess, Heather, and Rowena circled around her as usual. Brian sighed. Maybe he could talk to Wendy later. He started down the row to his desk, but he stopped when he heard Frankie’s loud voice from out in the hallway.

No. He had to do this before he chickened out.

He put his books down on his desk and turned around. Maybe talking to a girl was a lot like flying a plane. The toughest part was getting started in the first place. And there was only one way to take off successfully. Fast.

Brian marched right up to the Wolf Pack. “Wendy Heller.”

Heather leaned in to whisper something in Jess’s ear. They both giggled.

“Hey, Brian,” Wendy said.

“Let’s talk,” Brian said. “Maybe in the hallway?”

Wendy stood up. “Sure.” People in the room went “oooh” or made kissing noises as he led her to the hallway, checking first to make sure Frankie had moved on.

“What’s up?” she said when they were outside the classroom door.

Brian’s hands were damp and his heartbeat heavy. He faced this most beautiful girl. “Yesterday you asked if we should… er… if it would be cool if… you know.” He stopped and took a breath. Captain Kirk was never nervous around the ladies on Star Trek . He put on his best Captain Kirk smile. “Would you like to meet me at the skate park after school?”

“Really?”

Brian nodded. “Really. It’ll be fun. I’ll teach you some moves.”

Wendy dropped her gaze to the floor. “No, Brian. I don’t think so.”

He instantly wanted to run all the way home — his old home in Seattle. “Oh,” he said. “Sure. I get it. No problem. I just thought—”

“Because I’m the one who’s going to teach you tricks.” Wendy’s grin was big and beautiful. She laughed a little. “Got you! The skate park at four thirty, then.” She did the whole teeny-tiny wave thing and spun around to go back into the room.

Brian found it difficult to focus on his schoolwork that morning. He couldn’t stop thinking about his upcoming time with Wendy. During group work in language arts, Alex had to tell him to stop smiling so much.

He was feeling so good that by lunchtime, he figured he’d try to sit at the cool table again. When they were dismissed for lunch, Max started to ask Brian if he wanted to eat with him, but Brian pretended he hadn’t heard. He didn’t stall with Ms. Gilbert as he often did, but darted out of his seat and slipped around two people in his own row to get out the door first. In the cafeteria, he was near the front of the line for a change, and he took his tray with chicken nuggets, green beans, a stale cookie, and milk straight to the table where Alex, Red, David, and the other cool guys usually sat. He sat down, trying to act natural, like this was no big deal.