by Trent Reedy
“So maybe you won’t get the newest iPhone,” said Brian. “For me, this is a bigger deal.” Alex opened his mouth as if to say something, but Brian cut him off. “If Synthtech goes bankrupt, I’ll probably have to move again, and you can bet nobody will be using my grandpa’s shed like this if that happens.”
“I agree with Alex,” Max said. “We cannot give up the flyer. It isn’t ready to fly. It would be humiliating to present my mother and father with a project that does not work. They already have enough doubts about the likelihood of my future success.”
Brian paced to the far end of the workshop. “We have to do something!”
“But not give up the flyer,” said Max.
“Exactly,” said Alex. “There has to be another way to make this rich lady get the picture about how cool Plastisteel is without ruining our plans.”
Brian spun to face Alex. “What did you say?”
“Dude, we’re keeping the —”
“No, you said ‘get the picture’!” Brian hit himself in the forehead. “I’m an idiot!”
“What?” Max asked.
“It’s so easy,” said Brian.
“What?” Alex asked.
“Your phone can take photos and videos, right?” Brian said to Alex.
Alex took his iPhone out. “This baby can do anything.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Douglas and arrange a meeting,” said Brian. “She keeps saying she wants to see a Plastisteel car or even a plane. We’ll take her photos and a video of the flyer as proof that Plastisteel can be awesome. If we do a good job with our presentation, we’ll impress her enough to invest in the company.”
Max tilted his head. “This is likely the best we can do under the circumstances.”
Alex began circling the flyer. “You make the appointment. I’ll get photos and a video.”
“Mrs. Douglas lives in Iowa City,” said Max. “How will we get there?”
“Leave that to me,” Alex said. “Good idea, Brian.”
The next evening after school, Brian, Max, and Alex found themselves crammed into the backseat of Matt Karn’s aging Oldsmobile Alero, along with all of Matt’s sweaty football gear. The car smelled like a mix of greasy fries, chopped onions, and rotten tomatoes.
“So, Alex, is it true that my brother owes you five bucks after the Dysart game?” Matt spoke loudly, watching Alex, Brian, and Max in the rearview mirror. Matt was David’s older brother, and the only teenager Alex could bribe to drive them to Iowa City. There was some kind of Thursday night football team supper at a pizza buffet, and Alex had offered Matt ten dollars to drop the three of them off at the mall on his way.
“Sorry, dude,” Alex said. “I have to bet on the winner. It’s just business.”
Matt frowned. “Yeah? Who’d you pick to win this week?”
“Are you kidding me?” Alex was in his smooth business mode. “You and the Roughriders will crush Lone Tree.”
“Yeah we will! Playoffs this year, baby!” Matt punched the steering wheel as he pulled his car up to the curb in front of the mall. His eyes found Alex in the mirror and his smile vanished. “Now give me ten bucks. How’s that for business?”
Alex handed over the money.
“Great. Get out of my car. Meet me here at eight. If you’re late, you can walk the twelve miles back to Riverside.”
Brian took a deep breath of clean air when he got out of the car. “That guy seriously needs to do some laundry.”
Alex scanned the parking lot as he spoke. “David said that Matt thinks he’ll run the luck out of his clothes if he washes them.”
Max wiped his glasses off on his shirt. “I believe he is risking infection by any number of strains of bacteria that must be breeding in his sweat-soaked —”
“There’s our cab!” Alex said.
The three of them climbed into the back of the taxi that Alex had arranged to pick them up, and Alex gave the driver the address. They couldn’t afford a taxi all the way from Riverside to Mrs. Douglas’s house in Iowa City, and they couldn’t let Matt Karn know where they were really going. Now that they were on their way to the meeting, Brian’s stomach felt inside out, the way it did when Dad used to throw the Cardinal into quick little dives.
“Okay, gentlemen,” said Alex. “Time to look classy. Ties.”
Brian pulled his necktie out of his bag. Matt had already made fun of them for their khaki pants and shirts with buttons. The ties would have completely signaled that something funny was up. All three of them slipped their ties on and tightened them. Brian leaned forward in the seat and faced Alex. “Does this look right?”
Alex checked Brian and Max over. “Very professional. Just remember to take these things off before we catch our ride with Matt back at the mall.”
Brian nodded. How could he forget to take this stupid thing off? The tie was so tight on his neck that he felt he was on his way to his own execution.
When they arrived at Mrs. Douglas’s address, Alex paid the driver and the three of them climbed out of the car. The after-sunset glow was dimming in the west, but the night wasn’t any darker in front of this house. On either side of a big round-top wooden front door were large lights that looked like old oil lanterns from castle movies. The house itself was built out of tan stone blocks and looked like a fortress for a king or queen.
“This house must be worth at least a million dollars,” Max said.
“I like this lady already,” said Alex.
Brian led the way up to the house. Small black lamps lined both sides of the cement path. They paused on the front porch. To the right of the door was the glowing orange button for the doorbell. All they had to do was press it.
“Are you guys ready for this?” Brian asked.
“Dude, this will be easy,” Alex said. “Let me do the talking.”
Brian tried to will his legs to stop shaking, but couldn’t. After all, Mrs. Douglas had intimidated even Dad, who always had, or used to have, an answer for everything. He swallowed. Great success through great risk. He pressed the button to ring the doorbell and a series of chimes rang inside, like classical music.
Something clicked, and the door swung open to reveal Mrs. Douglas in black pants and a sweater with a flower pattern. She smiled when she saw them. “Well, aren’t you boys just the picture of charming little professionals. Please come in.”
Brian let Alex lead the way into a room with antique furniture, a large fireplace, and a grand piano. The heavy door thudded shut behind them.
“The office is this way, boys.” Mrs. Douglas’s shoes tapped the hardwood floor all the way down the hallway. She led them into a room lined with bookshelves crowded with old and expensive-looking leather-covered books. Her shiny wooden desk was in the center of the room. Four high-backed leather chairs, the kind with the little round brass buttons along the fronts of the armrests, waited in front of it. She sat down behind her desk. “Please,” she said, motioning for them to sit.
Brian, Max, and Alex sat. Mrs. Douglas seemed to study each of them. The room was absolutely silent for what seemed like a very long time. Finally, she took a breath and sighed. “Boys, I’m a very busy woman. If I wanted to sit here with someone quiet, I’d call my husband in.” She tapped her lower lip.
Alex stood up. “Good evening, ma’am, I’m Alex. Thank you for letting us come see you tonight. I’d like to begin by —”
“What’s your last name, Alex?” Mrs. Douglas said.
“Mackenzie, ma’am. I’m Alex Mackenzie. This is Brian Roberts and Max Warrender.” He nodded to each of them.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you any relation to the Mackenzie Lexus dealer here in town?”
“That’s my father’s dealership, ma’am.”
Brian watched Alex. He looked completely comfortable. How did he do it? Where had he learned all this “ma’am” stuff? He sounded like he’d been in the army.
“Hmm,” she said. “I wouldn’t even waste my time with you boys, but Brian here tells me there’s been a
major breakthrough with Plastisteel. Except … I’m not supposed to discuss this with Mr. Roberts or Dr. Warrender. A secret? I’m mildly interested.” She pulled back her sleeve and checked her gold watch. Brian thought he caught a glimpse of diamonds on it. “You have exactly five minutes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Douglas,” Alex said. He activated a smile. “Should you choose to wisely invest in this incredible new invention of my friend’s mother —”
“Don’t even try to give me advice about my investments, boy. I’ll decide what’s wise and what’s not. Now get to the point.”
Alex’s smile vanished. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … well … I just wanted …”
Mrs. Douglas sighed loudly. “Four minutes left!”
Max cleared his throat. “Mrs. Douglas, you have informed my mother and Brian’s father that you’d like to see a more impressive demonstration of the potential of Plastisteel. You particularly suggested that you might like to see some sort of Plastisteel vehicle.”
“I’m not in the business of suggesting. I have so much money coming in that I can barely keep track of it all. If I can make a few bucks on this magic plastic stuff, then fine, but I gotta have fun doing it!”
“Precisely.” Max motioned for Brian to show her the photos. “In order to accommodate your desire for proof of Plastisteel’s potential, we thought we should show you these photographs of a Plastisteel airplane we have constructed.”
Brian held the photographs out to Mrs. Douglas, and she snatched them from his hands. She flipped through a few images before spreading them out on the desk in front of her. “Hmm,” she said. “You boys built this thing?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brian said.
She opened the center drawer of her desk and pulled out a magnifying glass to examine the pictures. After a moment she looked up at them. “Where did you get all this magic plastic?”
“Well, my mother. She … let me use some of her prototype materials,” Max said.
An amused expression crept across Mrs. Douglas’s face. “Oh, she did, did she?” She folded her hands on top of her desk. “Now, why do I find that so hard to believe? Does your mama know that you boys have made this airplane?”
“Actually, ma’am,” Max said, “we were rather hoping that we could count on your continued discretion. It would probably be better if our parents didn’t know about this project at the moment.”
She let out something like a laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
Alex took his phone from his pocket. “Mrs. Douglas, I could show you video of the flyer if you want.”
“Does it show this airplane of yours flying?” Mrs. Douglas asked.
“Um … no, ma’am.”
“Now why should I be interested in a bunch of pictures and a little home movie of an aircraft that’s not airborne?”
“I’m sure you can understand that the business of Plastisteel aircraft could be very lucrative, especially —”
She pointed at Alex. “You’re done talking.”
Alex nodded and sat down.
Max said, “Mrs. Douglas, I’ve made some charts and graphs to explain my theories on the potential of —”
“If I don’t want one child’s business advice, I certainly don’t want another kid’s boring science junk.” Mrs. Douglas checked her watch. “One minute left, boys.”
Brian didn’t even think. There was no time, and they simply could not afford to fail. He stood up out of his seat and approached the desk. “Why do you want to wait for something Dr. Warrender and my dad can make sometime in the future, when you can see this awesome airplane right now?” He pointed at the photos in her hands. “Just look at her. Imagine what it would feel like to soar through the air in this. With Plastisteel, she’s lighter than any other plane out there, and she’s, well, nearly unbreakable. Working on this flyer and being at her controls has been … just … awesome. Plastisteel is as great as our parents say it is.” Brian took a breath. “That’s why I hope you’ll tell my dad that you’ll invest with Synthtech.”
Mrs. Douglas looked up from her watch. “And with ten seconds to spare,” she said. She locked her eyes on Brian’s. “Have you flown this plane?”
“For a very short flight,” Brian said. “We’re still working to —”
“Do you think it’s going to fly?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I know she will.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I almost like you, boy. You seem to have guts. But I am tired of vague promises. If you can show me proof of this plane of yours flying, I’ll invest my money in your daddy’s company. And I’ll forget to tell them about you boys and all that magic plastic that you somehow got your greedy hands on.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Douglas,” Brian said. He swallowed.
She stood up. “Don’t thank me. Show me the proof. Don’t you dare bother me again unless you have that shiny little airplane of yours up and flying. You understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they all said together.
“Well, ain’t that sweet?” she said. “Now get out of my office and run along home. I expect you boys have work to do.”
“Jack, you’ve been at it all week.” Mom said to Dad in the kitchen. “I think you can take a little break. Church is only an hour.”
“Believe me, Diane, I can’t.”
Brian sat down at the dining-room table. They were doing that whole talking-quiet-so-nobody-would-think-anything-was-wrong thing. Usually, he would ditch out to his room whenever Mom and Dad were arguing, but this time he hung around, hoping Dad would win. No way did he want to go to Mom’s old church. All those old people that Grandpa knew, all telling Brian how much he’d grown and that he probably didn’t remember them … No kidding he wouldn’t remember them! He had been five or something the last time he had gone to church in Iowa.
“Mary needs help installing the new security system before the next batch of Plastisteel is ready this week.”
“So it’s ‘Mary’ now, is it?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You see more of that woman than you do your own family!”
“What?” Dad said. They both got a lot quieter. For a little while, Brian could only hear rumbles of angry talk.
“An hour, Jack. Just church as a family. We haven’t even been to one service since we moved here. I think it would be good for us and for Brian. You promised you’d take time for your family.”
“You don’t understand. We’re finally just starting to replace our stock of Plastisteel,” Dad said. “If there’s another theft, we are bankrupt!”
Another theft? What was he talking about? Brian stood up and went to the kitchen door. Mom said something, but he couldn’t make out her words.
“No! It can’t wait!” Dad shouted.
“Keep your voice down!” Mom said.
“I already waited too long,” Dad said. “If we would have had better security back before Mary moved her lab to Iowa City, we might not have been ripped off.”
It was quiet after that. Brian was about to put his ear to the door when he heard footsteps approaching. He rushed for a chair at the table and pulled the newspaper close to him.
Dad came out of the kitchen and stopped suddenly. “Hey, buddy. I didn’t realize you were sitting right there.” Brian kept his eyes fixed on the newspaper, though he had no idea what the article was supposed to be about. Dad glanced at the paper. “Reading the farm report, I see.”
Brian knew he should say something to smooth out the situation — something funny or cool like Alex would say. But he just sat frozen in his chair.
“I don’t know how much you heard,” Dad said. “Just … don’t worry, okay? Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s cool.”
“I could just really use this time,” said Dad. “I’ll make it up to you and Mom. I promise.” He mussed Brian’s hair as he headed off through the living room toward his office.
Brian used to hate it when
Dad messed with his hair. He didn’t mind as much anymore.
Mom leaned against the door frame. She was already wearing her nice clothes. “Go up and get dressed,” she said. “I put your church clothes out for you.”
As Brian took his seat in a hard wooden pew at church, Grandpa shuffled in next to them. “Morning, Diane. Brian. Where’s Jack?”
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.
