Trent Reedy - Stealing Air

B.A. burst out laughing. “Red said!”

“Red said!” Travis yelled. The rest of the guys joined in.

“I’m serious!” Red shouted. “It’s true. You can ask my cousin!”

B.A. waved them all quiet. “I watched Brian beat Frankie in the toughest eating contest I’ve ever seen. I bet five on Brian.”

Alex typed the bet into his iPhone. “B.A. bets five bucks that Brian will still be in the park after Frankie has left tonight. Is that right?”

“Yep!” B.A. nodded. “I’m with you.”

“Thanks,” Brian said.

Alex grinned at Brian. “Dude, we’re going to make so much money on this with just my commission alone. Everybody thinks Frankie’s going to crush your skull in! Between that and the bets on tonight’s football game…” He laughed like an evil genius. “I’m seeing green!”

“That’s good, I guess,” Brian said. “You’re keeping it clear, right? It’s about the last one remaining in the park.”

“Brian,” Max said. “Alex knows gambling. He’ll take care of it.”

It was the best morning Brian could remember in Iowa.

At lunch that afternoon, Brian sat with Max. He was getting more and more nervous about that afternoon, but still forced himself to try to eat his piece of pizza.

“Can I sit with you guys?” Alex said as he approached with his tray.

Max made a big show of looking up and down their otherwise empty table. “There does appear to be room.”

Brian could hear the whispers as Alex sat down at their most uncool lunch table.

“Whatever!” Frankie said loudly from the popular table. “If he wants to sit with the losers, let him!”

“I know I take up a lot of space, but could you squeeze one more in?” B.A. sat down with two pieces of pizza. “I keep telling my dad that he should put pizza on the menu at Piggly’s, but he never does.”

“I need a change of pace,” Red said as he took a seat. “Figure I’ll sit here today.”

Brian had to chuckle a little when he saw the big grin on Max’s face. “I should have done this a long time ago,” he said quietly.

The last bell of the school day finally rang. Action time. Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Brian. “You guys ready?”

Brian nodded. “Let’s go for it.”

“Agreed. Timing is critical. Gentlemen…” said Max, “begin Phase One.”

They had worked out the plan last night in the Eagle’s Nest. First, Brian had to get home to take the three-thirty call from his parents. He skated like a madman and made it into the house with a few minutes to spare, switching on the PRC-77 radio as soon as he was inside.

Brian was supposed to take Mom’s call at three thirty and then start Phase Two immediately, but it was three forty before the phone rang. He answered right away. “Hello.”

“Oh. Brian. I don’t think the phone even had time to ring,” Mom said. “How was school?”

“Fine,” Brian said.

“Anything interesting happen?”

“Nope.”

“Blackbird, this is Ground Control. Radio check. Over.” Max’s voice squawked loud on the radio. Brian had the volume up way too high. He turned it down.

“What was that?” Mom asked. “Do you have boys over? You’re grounded, remember? You need to tell them to—”

“No, Mom. It’s just the radio. The music radio, I mean.”

“What other kind—”

“I put it on because it helps me study. I have so much homework. I should really go, or I’ll be up all night, trying to get all of this homework done.”

“Blackbird, where are you? Answer the radio! Over!” It was Alex this time.

“What do you have for homework tonight?” Mom asked.

Was she kidding? She hadn’t asked about his homework this whole school year and she picked today to start? “I have to read… um… an article about… the… um… guys who flew the first airplane.”

“The Wright Brothers.”

“Yep. Those guys.”

“Well, that will be great. You love airplanes.”

“Sure do. It’s a really long article, though, so I better go.” Brian paced the dining room. He wanted to scream. They were so behind schedule.

“Well, okay. I’m sorry, but we’ll probably be a little late getting home tonight. So much work to do. I promise that it’ll let up soon and it won’t be like this always.”

“Sure, I understand. I really should go, though.”

“Okay. Enjoy your afternoon. I love you.”

“Sure love you too bye.” Brian hung up the phone and grabbed the handset on the PRC-77. He pressed the little black rubber button. “Ground Control, this is Blackbird . I read you loud and clear. Over.”

Almost immediately static popped and Max was back on the radio. “Blackbird, this is Ground Control. We are behind schedule! What’s your status? Over.”

Brian radioed back. “Ground Control, Blackbird . Mom’s call came late. I’m going to call Grandpa right now. I’ll leave the mic keyed so you can hear what I say. When I say, ‘It’s good to talk to you,’ then begin Phase Two. Over.”

“Roger that, Blackbird. Ground Control is standing by. Over.”

Brian grabbed Alex’s cell phone and dialed Grandpa’s number. Grandpa had a really old-fashioned phone with a curly rubber cord. When the phone rang, he’d have to go to the living room or his bedroom to answer it. He wouldn’t be able to look out his kitchen window and see the guys bringing Blackbird out of the Eagle’s Nest in broad daylight.

“Hello?” Grandpa’s voice sounded tired.

“Hi, Grandpa. Do you have a second?” Brian said. He was still holding down the TRANSMIT button on the radio handset, and he brought it over close to the cell phone. “It’s good to talk to you.” He let go of the button. The guys would know they could make their move.

“It’s good to talk to you too.” Grandpa yawned. “I’m glad you called. I was taking a little nap and slept too late. Probably won’t be able to sleep tonight.” Brian put the PRC-77 radio into his backpack, slipped into the shoulder straps, and headed out the door with Spitfire , the cell phone still at his ear. Grandpa coughed. “So what’s on your mind?”

“Well, I have this school project.” Brian planned to tell him about an assignment he’d researched online. “I have to interview a family member to ask when our family first came to America. Then I have to write a report about it.” He dropped his skateboard on the street and started up the Fourth Street slope to Lincoln.

“Really, now. Well, this is actually a good story. You see, my grandmother came to this country from Germany with her parents and her older brother in, ooh, the late 1800s or early 1900s. I’ll have to look it up. I have her obituary in a box somewhere. She used to tell me this story when I was a boy. Now, they had to cross the Atlantic by ship. Not so many planes in those days.”

Brian listened while Grandpa kept talking. No way was he going to leave that phone and see the guys moving Blackbird . At Lincoln Street, he hooked a left to catch up with Alex and Max, who would be taking the flyer around the back of the big hill on which Riverside was built. They had agreed it would be hard to carry Blackbird through the north woods, but better that than to be spotted before takeoff.

“All the immigrants at Ellis Island had to be checked to make sure they weren’t bringing in any diseases,” Grandpa said. “Well, my grandmother’s mother wiped her eye. Nothing special. Just the way people sometimes wipe their eyes. But an immigration officer spotted this and pulled her mother into a separate room. Her father sat her and her brother down and told them, in German of course, ‘If they will not let your mother in, we will all have to go back.’”