Stealing Air

by Trent Reedy

  Brian held his hand up. “So, until we’ve had our first successful test run, we work on this in secret. Nobody, not our parents, and especially not my grandfather, can ever find out about our workshop here.”

  “Awesome! Boys …” Alex rubbed his knuckles against his chin. “We’ll make so much money. This is seriously great. We are going to fly.”

  After they crawled out of the Eagle’s Nest, Alex and Max headed home. Grandpa drove Brian around town, going past the school and some other places to help him get acquainted with Riverside. Brian tried to be polite and interested in whatever Grandpa was telling him, but all he could think about was the chance to be up in the sky again.

  When he finally walked into the living room at home, he was relieved to find the meeting was over. He sat down on the couch, still thinking about the flyer.

  “Brian?” Dad spoke loudly.

  “What?” Brian hadn’t even noticed his father standing in the doorway of his office off the living room.

  “I asked if you had a good time tonight. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “Sorry, Dad.” Brian stood and followed his father into the office. “I guess I was distracted. Yeah, it was fun tonight. You were right about this being a chance to make new friends. I think I’ve already made two.”

  “Thattaboy!” Dad tipped back a glass of something bubbly and yellow, drinking it all down. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  “How’d the meeting with the rich lady go?”

  Dad shrugged. “Not as well as I had hoped.”

  “She’s not going to invest?”

  “She hasn’t said yes yet,” Dad said. “Just because someone says no one time doesn’t mean the answer will always be no.” He sat on the end of his desk. “Mrs. Douglas wants some flashy demonstration, but right now it will take us two months to make more Plastisteel. We’re working on faster ways to manufacture it, but … Well, don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “I’ll work it all out. No problem.”

  “I know you will.” But Brian frowned. If Plastisteel took so long to make, how did Max get enough of it to make a plane? Maybe his Plastisteel was an early batch, some sort of prototype that wasn’t up to Dad and Dr. Warrender’s standards? It wouldn’t matter after tomorrow night. Brian wished he could tell his father about how the flyer would prove Plastisteel’s awesomeness to Mrs. Douglas, but he’d just made a promise of secrecy to the guys.

  “I’m just glad to know you’re off to a good start here in Riverside.” Dad stood up off the desk and hugged him, patting him on the back. “You better get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

  A few minutes later, up in his bedroom, Brian tried to focus on his Star Trek book, but he kept remembering the way Alex had made fun of the show. He couldn’t concentrate on a story set hundreds of years in the future when he was mainly concerned about tomorrow, his first day at a new school.

  So far, things were going pretty great here. Max was a little nerdy, but crazy smart. Alex had seemed like he’d never get along with Max at first, but he was coming around. Two friends. The three of them almost made a decent group. He was still nervous — so nervous his stomach felt wrung out — but Brian figured his dad had the right attitude. He kept a positive outlook and kept trying even when he was challenged. That would be Brian’s model for tomorrow. He hoped it would work.

  Brian had given skateboarding a lot of thought over the years. It was not like riding in a car or on a bicycle. A bike was out in the open like a board, but you didn’t feel the ride enough. On Spitfire, Brian felt like there was no vehicle carrying him at all, as if he simply glided down the streets and sidewalk on his own two feet. If he had to stop for traffic, he’d whip a tight kickturn with only his back wheels on the ground while the front end of his board spun around. Then he’d kick the board straight up in an ollie, jumping with the deck still pressed to his feet. If he could, he went for a slide, letting the bottom of his deck ride the edge of every bench. That’s how he usually rolled, never passing up the chance for a trick. If he wanted a normal ride, he would ask his mom to drive him. Instead he skated it out. He wanted to fly.

  This morning, however, he might as well have asked for a ride. As he rolled toward his first day at Riverside Elementary, his stomach still felt hollow and twisted with nerves. Even the Beatles playing on his iPod couldn’t get him going. He took an easy, wide, slow curve around the corner onto Lincoln Street.

  A block and a half ahead, he saw the tough guy from the skate park, Frankie, walking with Wendy, the angel girl. She was wearing jeans and a gray shirt with some kind of white net shawl thing over it. Brian didn’t feel like risking another round with Frankie this morning. He jumped off his board so they wouldn’t hear him, then plucked out his earbuds and shut off his music.

  Frankie put his arm around Wendy’s shoulders and leaned over to say something close to her ear. “Frankie!” She laughed and pushed him away.

  Brian watched in horror. How could an amazing girl like Wendy possibly be dating a guy like Frankie?

  Frankie reached over and tickled her. She gasped in laughter and spun away from him. When she did, she spotted Brian, smiled, and waved. Brian weakly waved back. Frankie turned to see what Wendy was looking at. When he saw Brian, he stopped and stood straight up, his arms cocking back a little. Wendy started in Brian’s direction, but Frankie grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She twisted out of his grip, and the two of them argued quietly for a moment.

  “Fine,” Frankie said loudly. “See if I care.” He stormed off ahead toward school.

  Wendy shrugged and sort of skipped back to Brian. “Hey, it’s the awesome skater! Ready for the first day? Are you nervous?”

  “No, I’m cool,” Brian lied. He had been a little nervous about starting a new school, and then Wendy had ditched her psychopath boyfriend to come talk to him. Now he was close to freaking out. He wiped his forehead and swallowed. “No big deal.” This was already the longest outside-of-school conversation he’d ever had with a girl anywhere near this beautiful. The skateboard stunt must have done the trick.

  They started walking again. “Sorry about yesterday with Frankie,” Wendy said. “And for today too. He doesn’t like me talking to guys.”

  “Yeah,” he said. What was he supposed to say? “Some boyfriends are like —”

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. Um … just that Frankie seems like one of those types of boyfriends who —”

  “Gross!” Wendy shouted. She took two steps back from him and acted like she was going to throw up in the middle of the street. “I can not believe you!”

  “What?” Brian worried for a moment that stuff was hanging out of his nose or something. “What did I say? Nothing. I’m sorry.”

  “Frankie is not, not, not, not my boyfriend!” She laughed. “He’s my brother! I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Oh.” For a moment Brian was thrilled. Then he realized what a huge mistake he’d made, and he wished Max had built a time machine so that he could go back in time and avoid saying something so stupid.

  She chuckled. “No, it’s fine. He did put his arm around me, I guess. Ugh.” Wendy stood straight. “Nice to meet you. I’m Wendy Heller.”

  “Brian Roberts.”

  She started again toward school. “Well, Brian Roberts, let’s hope that’s the most embarrassing thing that happens to you all day. Now tell me all about where you’re from and how you learned to be such an awesome skater.”

  “I’m from Seattle,” Brian said. “My family moved here for my dad’s business. And skateboarding … Um, I don’t know. I’ve been doing it a long time. I fell down a lot.”

  He would have kicked himself if he could. Why did he always say such dumb stuff, especially around girls? He risked a sideways glance at Wendy, but she wasn’t laughing at him.

  “Do you miss Seattle? How do you like Iowa so far?”

  “Riverside seems like a pretty good place.” He thought of the flyer. “I think
I might really like it here.”

  Wendy shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. It used to be a lot better.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head and looked happy again. “Who do you have for a teacher? Gilbert or Brown?”

  “Um, Gilbert,” Brian said. That’s the name Mom said she got at registration.

  “Cool! Me too.” They were in front of the school now. Buses and cars pulled into the parking lot to unload. Wendy leaned closer to him and spoke in a low tone that sent tingles up Brian’s neck. “Be careful, though. Gilbert’s a little strict.” She held the front door open and motioned Brian through. “After you.”

  Just as he went inside, a voice behind them shrieked, “Oh my gosh, Wendy, how are you?” A skinny girl with really long blond hair suddenly had her arms around Wendy’s neck and half rode her into the building. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

  “Hi, Abbie.” Wendy laughed a little and gently unlocked Abbie’s grip.

  A different girl rounded the corner from another hallway and ran up to the two girls. She drew both of them to her in a big hug. “Wendy! Abbie!”

  “Heather,” Wendy said, less enthusiastically.

  “Hey, Heather!” said Abbie.

  “Oh my gosh, Wendy, that poncho is so cute! You guys, I’ve hardly seen you all summer.” Abbie took them both by the hand. “I have so much to tell you. Come on!” She pulled Wendy and Heather away. Wendy looked back at Brian and shrugged.

  Why did girls always make such a big deal out of seeing each other again? Brian wondered. It didn’t matter if they had been apart all summer or for just a week. Whenever they were reunited, there were always hugs and high-pitched screeching and giggling. Brian’s old dog used to freak out almost the same way every time Brian came home from school. That was the way of the wolf pack.

  A sign hanging from the ceiling said the cafeteria, gym, fourth, fifth, and sixth grades were located in the wing to his right. Brian headed down the hall toward the sixth grade classrooms, but suddenly, he felt a hard pull on his backpack and was yanked sideways through a door. Before he knew what was happening, he was spun around so fast that he dropped Spitfire.

  Frankie was in his face, grabbing the front of his shirt. Brian tried to shove him off, but the other boy just pushed him back against a steel railing. Behind him was a six-foot drop down to a cement floor and a huge steel boiler. Frankie shoved him so far over the railing that Brian had to grab Frankie’s arms to keep from falling. Brian kicked him, and Frankie groaned, letting go with one hand. Brian’s left arm flailed as he started to go over the railing.

  Frankie pulled him back and shook him. “I got your attention?”

  Brian hated feeling so helpless. “Let me go,” he said.

  “Oh yeah?” Frankie chuckled. “No problem.” He jerked his arms like he was dropping him. Brian gasped, and Frankie gritted his teeth. “You listening now?”

  Brian nodded.

  “Good.” Frankie pulled him up a little so he could look Brian in the eye. “I’m glad I don’t have to bruise you up today. Then I’d have to listen to a fit from Wendy. But I will bruise you if I have to.” His eye twitched. “Basically, it’s real simple. I don’t like show-offs who think they’re so great on my skate ramp. I don’t like punk new kids who don’t know their place. Most of all, I hate weirdo freaks who talk to Wendy. So this is your one free pass. Stay away from my sister, and stay out of my way.” Frankie pulled hard and brought him back upright on the top landing of the staircase. “Or else next time …”

  He shoved Brian back against the steel railing and left him in the boiler room, the metal door clanging shut behind him.

  Brian took deep breaths, trying to make his legs stop shaking and his stomach settle down. His grip on the rail tightened until his knuckles were white. A part of him wanted to run after Frankie and punch him right now. But he’d never been in a fight in his life, and he’d promised Grandpa he’d stay out of trouble. Plus, what Frankie lacked in size, he made up for in strength and quickness.

  If only Brian could skip class and stay here in the boiler room. Or hide out in the bathroom. Or just go back home to Seattle.

  Brian rested his head over his folded arms on the railing. Those were crazy ideas. His father would be ashamed of him for even thinking them. Dad always charged ahead, taking the big risks to chase after something great. Brian just needed to make himself go to class.

  When he did finally get to Mrs. Gilbert’s classroom, he was glad to see some familiar people. Alex nodded to him when he came in. Two desks behind Alex, Max looked up from a thick book. The light shone on his glasses, and he grinned broadly. From the other side of the room near the windows, Wendy offered a little wave, and Brian felt something inside him somersault. He smiled and nodded, grateful that Frankie was not around.

  “I don’t know, David,” Alex said to a guy in the next row. “Riverside might have a good football team this year, but I think it’s a little early to start talking about state championships.”

  David slapped his hand on his desk. “I’m telling you, they’re going to be awesome. They have six returning varsity seniors and four juniors. They didn’t have to bring up many sophomores.”

  “Just because your brother is quarterback …” said a red-haired kid who’d been at the skate park. He leaned over his desk with his knees on his chair.

  David frowned. “Shut up, Red. Even if Matt wasn’t quarterback, they’d still dominate.”

  Max cleared his throat. “Statistically speaking, when taking into account last year’s football success and analyzing the performance of —”

  “Analyze this!” Red threw a ball of crumpled paper, hitting Max right between the eyes. The guys all laughed.

  “So dorky, Max,” said David.

  Brian slowly made his way toward the guys, but he didn’t know where he was supposed to sit. He stood there, holding his backpack and skateboard, hoping nobody was paying any attention.

  “David may be right,” said a guy whose large size filled up all the space at his desk. “The football team had a start-of-season supper at Piggly’s. My dad sold more barbecue pork that night than he did even on the Fourth of July. I thought the team looked pretty tough.” He must have noticed Brian watching him. He flashed a big grin, his chins bunching up. “Hey, I’m Aaron Pineeda. Most people call me B.A. for short.”

  Brian frowned. “B.A.?”

  “For ‘Big Aaron.’”

  Alex pulled his iPhone from a pocket inside his binder. “I don’t know, guys.” He pointed at something on the screen. “We have to play Dysart for the home opener Friday night. The Dysart Trojans went undefeated last year.”

  David threw his hands up. “They only beat us by two touchdowns. We’re even better now. We can take ’em.”

  “Well, five dollars says we lose the opener.”

  “You’d bet against our own team?” Red asked.

  “Just business.” Alex leaned toward David. “So how about it?”

  “I don’t know,” David said. “I don’t have that much money.”

  “But you were so sure we’ll win the state championship.” Alex shrugged. “If you don’t even think they’ll win the first game …”

  David sighed. “Fine. I bet you five bucks that the Roughriders win Friday night.”

  Alex and David shook hands and Alex keyed in the wager on his phone.

  “Alex, are you always scheming for money?” Wendy said. Brian could tell she was trying to act like she disapproved, but she couldn’t hide the amusement in her eyes.

  Alex put his iPhone away. “The whole world is always scheming for money.”

  “Pardon me.” Max stood right beside Brian, holding a notebook with diagrams and equations all over the page. Over in Wendy’s corner, Heather glanced at Brian and Max. She whispered something to Abbie and both of them giggled. “I made some calculations late last night,” Max said. “When we meet tonight for the test —”

  “Yeah,
sure,” Brian said quietly. He could feel everybody watching him, thinking he was a nerd like Max. “I’ve got to … sharpen this pencil now.” He left Max and went to the sharpener by the door.

  Right as he stuck the pencil in, he noticed a woman standing just outside the doorway. She was older than Brian’s mother, with flecks of gray sprinkled through her tightly pulled-back dark hair. Her unblinking eyes focused so intensely on him that he imagined she could read his thoughts.

  “You must be Brian Roberts,” she said. Her words did not sound like a greeting, and her expression was neutral. “I hope you’ve guessed who I am.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Gilbert.”

  The teacher stared at him, raising one eyebrow. “You will address me as Ms. Gilbert. Not ‘Mrs.’ or ‘Miss.’ I am neither married nor a little girl. Do you understand?”

  “Um, yes, Ms. Gilbert.” Brian swallowed. Wendy hadn’t been kidding about Gilbert being strict.

  “Good.” Ms. Gilbert’s face showed no emotion. “You seem to be the only one who has not yet found a seat. You may sit in the empty desk behind Alex Mackenzie in the second row from the door and the fourth desk back.”

  Brian nodded and walked back to his seat.

  “And Brian?”

  He froze just as he was about to sit down.

  “Students are not allowed to bring any sort of bag to my classroom, and they are certainly not to bring skateboards. Today, you may keep your bag and skateboard on the counter. You should have been assigned a locker at registration. Tomorrow you will report to the office for your locker number and combination.”

  Brian felt like a bobble-head doll for nodding so much. He took his seat, grateful to be out of the spotlight, at least for now.

  They spent the first hour in Ms. Gilbert’s room being lectured about the rules and getting their language arts textbooks. Then they moved on to other subjects, rotating to the classroom of the other sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Brown, as well as the rooms of the fifth grade teachers. All morning they heard more rules. By the time they returned to Ms. Gilbert’s classroom, Brian was so tired of rules that he was almost hoping for homework. He killed time by flipping through his language arts textbook, looking for at least one good story.