An Impossible Distance to Fall

by Miriam McNamara

  Merri gave her a funny look. “Today? You wouldn’t make it there and then back to Elgin before the trains stop running for the night.”

  “You should wait till Friday,” said Oscar. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  She had to go into the city. She just knew Dad was there. But she was excited about her idea for the audition. What if the circus got the contract, and she helped them do it? She could give herself the week. She’d go into the city on Friday and try to find him, and then the tryout was Saturday. Then she could figure out what was next.

  John and Henry squeezed rowdily onto the blanket next to her, sausages in buns piled with Henrieta’s famous sauerkraut in all four of their hands. “Oscar told us about the stunt!” Henry exclaimed in a stage whisper. “I can’t wait to see!” She was pretty sure it was Henry—he was the one who always looked shyly away when she smiled at him. She tried it and sure enough, he looked away, cheeks pinking beneath his freckles.

  “I’m gonna try it, too, if it goes okay,” John mumbled around a mouthful of sausage. He was the one who met her gaze. It was the most the twins had ever said directly to her, and she grinned at their enthusiasm.

  “You’re going to make sure I don’t fall to my death before you have a go at it?” teased Birdie, ignoring the twisted skeleton that sprang to her mind. She’d be fine. If they could do it hanging from a rafter above a stage, she could do it hanging from the landing gear of a plane.

  “Mom read us that story, you know!” said Henry, mustard smeared across one cheek.

  “Maybe we can make it a whole act!” said John. “You could be Wendy, and I could be Peter Pan! Or something?”

  “What are you on about?” Colette asked from the other side of the fire, where she was forking a sausage out of the skillet.

  “Shhhhh!” said Henry, elbowing John. “Oscar said not to let anyone hear, not just Mom!”

  “All right, all right, keep it down!” giggled Birdie. Their excitement was helping shake off the shadows. “Let’s make sure the stunt works before we plan the whole show around it.”

  John and Henry continued throwing ideas around, but they kept it to a whisper, and Birdie didn’t stop them. Maybe the circus would end up with a really good show. Maybe she could find Dad and perform this weekend and then go home and find everything not so terrible as she thought it was.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HAZEL’S BOARDING HOUSE WAS NEAR THE CURTISS AIRFIELD WHERE THE auditions would be held. Birdie didn’t have to go with the others to see Hazel, but of course she was curious. They pulled up next to a beat-up Model T in the dusty lot out front of a white three-story with porches on the first and second floors. A couple of bicycles leaned against a rack out front next to empty hitching posts. Airplanes clustered in the field beyond the house, brightly colored wings glowing in the late afternoon sunlight.

  Everyone else had cleaned up in Henrieta’s tub, too. Merriwether was wearing an almost fashionable, slightly tailored dress with a floral print, a hat with a ribbon softening up her square lines. Oscar was clean-shaven, wearing twill trousers and the same pullover, shoes, and belt he’d worn earlier. His freshly washed hair stuck up even more enthusiastically than before. June looked slim and fresh in a clean white button-down tucked into khaki trousers, and short, worn leather boots.

  There were shouts and lifted hands from a group of men and women on the porch, and one woman jumped out of a rocking chair, barreled into Merriwether, and swept her into a hug. The girl, perhaps in her early twenties, had a straight, straw-blonde Buster Brown, her bangs hacked off well above her eyebrows, and a cigarette hanging off her lip. “Merriwether, sugar!” the girl said in a raspy smoker’s voice. “I heard a rumor you got tapped to try out for the NAR spot, too. A long-shot chance for your lot, but still—I applaud your pluck.”

  Merriwether laughed and pushed her away. “We’re gonna beat your butt, Ruth.” Merriwether grinned and slapped her on the back. “It’s not even gonna be a contest.”

  “Oh, we got us some new planes since you saw us last, so I think there might be more competition than you thought,” said Ruth. Merriwether rolled her eyes, but Birdie could see her smile tighten. The girl looked at June, and a slow smile spread across her face. “Well, hey there, June,” she said. “Hazel said you were coming to see me.”

  “Howdy, Ruth,” June said coolly, but her cheeks flushed pink.

  A few others crowded in boisterously, and Merriwether and June gave hugs and cheek kisses all around. Birdie and Oscar stepped aside to make room. “Merriwether and June used to race against some of these girls. Hazel still does,” Oscar told her, his eyes darting around. “A bunch of them travel with the Hollbrook Flying Circus. We’ve competed with them for fair contracts before. We usually land them—at least we did, with Charlie. I think we’ve still got a shot at the contract this time, if we can get your idea off the ground.”

  Suddenly Birdie was less certain about her idea. Would putting on a child’s play in the sky really make them serious competitors?

  Oscar leaned in, lowering his voice. “I got the harness rigged up for your stunt. And we’ve got plenty of wire and the right gear to secure it to the plane. It’s gonna go off without a hitch.”

  The crowd moved onto the porch, Birdie and Oscar trailing. Birdie got pushed back against the peeling railing and tripped over an empty glass bottle as she sidestepped, scattering a deck of playing cards.

  A group of girls hadn’t squealed like this for her since her last birthday party. She missed her friends, how they used to be before.

  Through the open door, Birdie saw a girl coming down the stairs. Long wavy auburn hair cascaded over one shoulder. She had a full figure in a pinstriped, navy high-waisted dress. Her lips broke into the sunniest smile when her eyes landed on Oscar—

  “Hazel!” Oscar pushed through the crowd and sprinted toward her. The girl squealed. He caught her by her waist so that her feet lifted off the bottom step.

  The incredible Hazel.

  Oscar spun her around and kissed her mouth, hand searching for the banister to balance.

  Merriwether grabbed Birdie’s hand and whirled her around, talking fast as she introduced people. CindyGertrudeHelenLucy—Birdie couldn’t match faces to the names Merriwether was throwing out. None of the ladies looked the least bit like powder puffs, either.

  She kept her eyes on everyone’s faces instead of looking past them, to Oscar and Hazel sneaking back up the stairs, holding hands.

  She looked around for June but she seemed to have disappeared, too.

  “Nice to meet you, Birdie,” a fellow said. “What do you fly?”

  “I don’t,” said Birdie shortly. “Fly.”

  “Oh yeah?” he said. “Whatcha doing with these folks, then?”

  Good question. “Excuse me,” she said. She shoved her way toward the door, feeling like an awkward little sister forgotten while the older kids impressed their friends. Merriwether didn’t notice when she slipped inside the house.

  She shouldn’t have tagged along today. She should have stayed at Henrieta’s farmhouse, or gone to find the Glenview train station. She could have made her own way into town and figured out how to find Gilda and get some answers about Dad—

  Birdie paused in the empty hallway and took a few gulping breaths. She would not cry.

  She would not cry.

  These people didn’t know how much everyone at school used to like her, how handsome her beau was. They didn’t know she was the best dancer at Glen Cove Dance Academy. They didn’t know about her bright idea to save Merriwether’s Flying Circus of the Air.

  But after they saw her stunt at the audition—maybe they would.

  She would find Dad Friday night, and she would impress everyone at the audition on Saturday, and then she would go home, because she didn’t need these people, not really. They would need her after they got the contract, but they would have to find someone else. Birdie heard clanging and voices down the hall and wandered towards the
sound, peering through the doors. She looked in the dining room—no one there. In the kitchen, there was just a harried-looking cook and a couple of young girls wearing aprons.

  She heard voices coming from the back porch, through a screen door, and walked down a dark hallway toward the sound.

  It was a bright, shiny summer evening, the light still brilliant against the lengthening shadows. June sat on the porch with the girl Ruth, smoke curling around their heads in bright, lazily ascending halos. Birdie paused in the darkness of the hallway and watched them.

  Ruth’s long, white legs stretched out in the sun. She held her hand over her eyes to shade them as she looked at June. She was bright and lovely, skin radiating sunlight.

  June said something tersely, and Ruth looked away as she waved a hand dismissively. June leaned forward as she continued talking, her hand landing on Ruth’s thigh.

  Her thumb moved, back and forth against Ruth’s skin. Ruth said something low, and June’s hand tensed and stilled.

  They both were quiet, looking at each other. It was a long look—June’s eyes sad, Ruth’s asking a hopeful question. Reluctantly June slid her hand up to Ruth’s waist and pulled her in, and Ruth tipped sideways, resting her forehead in the crook of June’s neck. June shook her head, but then lightly brushed her lips against Ruth’s blond hair.

  Then Ruth turned her face up, and their lips met.

  Birdie crept back down the hallway, heart pounding, not knowing what to think.

  Birdie put her hand on the empty wine bottle, giggling. Music seeped up from downstairs. Mom and Dad were having a party, and unbelievably, David, Monty, and Izzy had snuck upstairs with her to her bedroom. A pilfered bottle of wine had been drunk between them, and now they were playing Bottle of Fortune. The game was Izzy’s idea. Birdie knew Izzy was sweet on Monty.

  She had a feeling David was sweet on her.

  She knew she had to get the bottle to land on David. She knew Izzy would be incredibly irritated with her if she kissed Monty, when Izzy hadn’t yet.

  She meditated on the bottle. Land on David, she ordered. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling anything from the wine. The others had drunk most of it, sucking it down before it had even gotten to her.

  She twisted her wrist back, then spun the bottle as hard as she could. The carpet stopped the bottle’s spin almostly instantly, the neck of it pointing directly at Izzy.

  They all laughed. “Doesn’t count!” cried David. “Spin again.” His cheeks were pink from the wine. He obviously wanted the bottle to land on him.

  Birdie reached for the bottle but Monty’s hand got there first, blocking her. When she looked up he had a wicked look in his eyes. “What if it did count, though?” he asked.

  Izzy squealed, “No!” She sounded scandalized, and delighted. Izzy loved being scandalized.

  It took a moment for Birdie to follow what he meant.

  She looked at Izzy, a smile warm on her lips. Izzy was flushed. too, her eyes black and inviting, her mouth red and sweet.

  “What if?” Birdie asked.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  OSCAR LEANED OVER THE EDGE OF THE FRONT COCKPIT AS BIRDIE SETTLED into her seat. “You ready?” he asked—the same words he’d said the first time he took her up, but this time she flinched at the note of concern in his voice.

  “Sure am.” Her harness was on, the straps tight around her shoulders and thighs, chest clasp winking in the sunlight. She’d pinched June’s drab flight suit since she couldn’t wear the harness over a dress. The suit was a little long for her, bunching around her wrists and ankles, but she still felt rather sleek in it. She’d worn bloomers under skirts for sports at school, but never proper pants—not that the flight suit counted as pants, but it had a similar look. A pair of Merriwether’s goggles pinched her forehead.

  “Test it first!” Oscar said urgently. “Don’t just jump out into thin air, okay?”

  “Of course,” she said shortly. If he didn’t stop, he was going to make her nervous.

  “You sure you can pull yourself back up?”

  “Oscar! Quit fussing. I’m serious.”

  Oscar looked like he wanted to say something else, but just patted the cockpit edge reluctantly before hopping into his seat behind her. Birdie fiddled with the carabiner attached to the cable that was fastened to her harness as she went over the plan in her head. She would snap it onto the spreader bar once she’d climbed down onto the landing gear. From the ground, it would be very hard to make out.

  She went through all the steps in her head, just like she would before a dance performance, picturing everything going right—but now she was starting to think of all the things that could go wrong. Charlie had been paralyzed from an equipment malfunction. The cable could snap—the carabiner could open—the harness could tear—

  She took a deep, shaky breath. Everyone was going to be so impressed when she pulled off the stunt.

  Henry started the propeller and it whomped around a few times before smoothing out, sunlight flashing off the blades. Merriwether, Bennie, Milosh, and Colette were sitting on Henrieta’s front porch, talking about the upcoming show. They were still trying to come up with a new set. Birdie could barely make them out from the far side of the field.

  The plane lurched forward. Birdie stared at her knuckles as they whitened around the caribiner.

  The terror she would feel as she plummeted—the cracking sound her spine would make as it snapped—

  Maybe she wouldn’t die, maybe she would just be paralyzed like Charlie, and then how would she get back home? She’d never find Dad—

  The plane surged upward, and in what seemed like an instant, Oscar was turning the plane and leveling out. She closed her eyes.

  They’ll adore you for saving their show. Oscar will be so impressed he won’t be able to help falling for you.

  If she fell into the woods instead of the field they might never find her body—and then she’d just turn into dirt and no one would ever know that she’d been alive at all, ever tried to do something amazing—

  She stood, planted her rear on the edge of the cockpit, and swung her legs around. Fields whipped by beneath them, then the dirt road, then fields again. Oscar banked around as she got her feet on the wing, the canvas scratchy beneath her bare soles. She should get herself some proper shoes if she was going to keep doing this. She walked slowly to the front edge. The weather was beautiful, the air warm and rushing in her ears. She put a hand to the strut and slid it down all the way to where it met the bottom wing, then sat carefully on the edge of the wing next to the plane’s body. The wheel of the Jenny was close enough to brush it with her bare toes.

  Henrieta’s house was getting closer, the porch-sitters’ faces turning up towards them. The Studebaker was pulling up to the house—June had gone back to the boarding house that morning to pick up Hazel for a visit, and they’d made it back just in time.

  Hazel’s never done something as incredible as this.

  June won’t be able to stop thinking about you—

  Birdie leaned out from the wing, hand holding the strut tightly. The wheel blocked the direct path to the spreader bar, but there was another bar that came back from the wheel and connected it with the fuselage. She planted her foot on it, and it felt sturdy enough. Oscar had said that the landing gear was more than strong enough to hold her. She put her weight on it, swung out on the strut, and put her other foot on the spreader bar, keeping her body tucked to avoid the propeller. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She shimmied around until she was facing forward, the propeller flickering right in front of her face, hands tightly grasping the short bars on either side. She made herself uncurl one hand and grope around until she found the wire connected to her harness and followed it to the end with trembling fingers. She reached behind her. The large carabiner, heavy in her hand, clicked sharply as it closed over the spreader bar. She tugged on it to make sure it was fastened properly, then leaned away from the landing gear, letting her weight settle into the h
arness. As her arm reached full extension, the harness hugged her torso, pulling back against her. Nothing indicated that it would snap.

  She must look crazy. They all must be watching her now, trying to figure out what she was doing hunched in the landing gear.

  It would only be a little more weight on the cable and spreader bar to perform her stunt, but it seemed like an impossible leap from where she was right now. She sat down carefully on the spreader bar, letting her legs dangle in the wind. She had to do it now. She’d tested the cable and harness. She had no excuse.

  Birdie waved at the people on the ground, projecting a confidence she did not feel. She swung her legs back and forth in a carefree way. The motion almost convinced her that she felt all right.

  No one will be able to ignore how fearless and talented you are.

  Before she could doubt she pushed off the bar and spread her arms—

  Falling—for one terrifying second she was a breathless scream—

  The cable caught with a harsh jerk, and she flopped on the end of it like a fish on a line. Her vision swung wildly from blue sky to green earth until her panic crested and she stopped thrashing. She hung limply, trying to catch her breath as the harness squeezed her lungs mercilessly. The wind roared in her ears, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes—but she wasn’t falling.

  She looked down.

  Milosh stumbled to his feet. Bennie’s mouth was open, pointing at her. Two figures fell out of the car doors and shaded their eyes as they looked up—

  She was hanging from the harness gracelessly. She probably looked like a scarecrow tacked to a post. But she was flying, suspended in air, nothing between her and the ground, not even a thin strip of canvas and wood.

  No one will be able to forget you.

  Birdie bared her teeth and tossed her head back. She arched her neck and spread her arms out, kicking her feet up, energy crackling out of all her fingers and toes.

  She was a perfect shape, a half-moon suspended in the sky.