by Trent Reedy
Max frowned. “Brian, I do not believe Blackbird is ready. It doesn’t have enough power to take off on its own.”
“She may have a little trouble taking off, but I’ve been thinking about our first flight attempt that night, and I bet moving the seats back a bit might shift the weight to put us at a better angle for takeoff. It’s a good design, Max. Once she’s airborne, she’ll fly great.”
“But what does Blackbird have to do with Frankie Heller?” Alex said.
“Relax,” Brian said. “I have a plan.”
“Your Mr. Piggly plan nearly got us killed,” Alex pointed out.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be too difficult to install seat belts,” Max said.
Alex ignored Max. “How do you know this idea will work?”
That was a good question. “I don’t.” Brian shrugged. “But we’re going to take our best shot.”
Everyone went silent as soon as Brian walked into homeroom the next day. Abbie, Heather, and Jess shot him murderous glares. Wendy wouldn’t even look at him. B.A., Red, and Dakota all backed out of his way as he went to his desk and sat down.
“I stayed late making the final arrangements,” Max said quietly from the seat behind him.
“Don’t call them final arrangements, Max. You’re not preparing for a funeral,” Brian whispered.
Max nodded. “We should be go to throttle up for tonight’s mission.”
Brian gave him a high five. “Warp speed, Max.”
“Hey, Alex, put me down for five bucks,” Travis said. “Five on Frankie.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Brian.”
“I’m sorry too,” Brian said. “Sorry you’re going to be out five bucks!”
“Okay,” Alex said. “I have Travis in for five dollars on Frankie in this evening’s confrontation. Loser is whoever leaves the park first, right?”
“Yeah, if the loser can even get up to run away,” said Red. “Once I was on vacation with my family at this campground in Oklahoma, and there was this big cowboy guy from Texas with boots, hat, spurs, the whole thing. Anyway, this cowboy guy kept bugging my cousin. So I told him if he didn’t leave her alone, I’d have to fight him. The cowboy just says, ‘Don’t mess with Texas.’ So I punched him.” He brought his fist up. “Bam! Uppercut! I hit him so hard the guy actually came off his feet up in the air. He fell back and hit the ground. Out cold.” Red shook his head. “I’m just real lucky he didn’t die.”
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.
“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.’”
“Blackbird, this is Ground Control. We’re clear of the Eagle’s Nest. We could use your help carrying the package. Over.”
Now Brian had to find a way to end this phone call with Grandpa. “We will … all … have … to go … back.” He spoke very slowly as if he were saying it out loud while he wrote it down. “But they got in. That’s great. That’s the perfect story. Thanks, Grandpa!”
“But there’s more. They came to Iowa and settled on a farm —”
“Right. Got it. I better go work on this paper. It has to be typed and everything. Can I call you back if I have more questions?”
“Sure. Anytime.”
“Thanks, Grandpa. Bye.” Brian ended the call and slipped the phone in his pocket as he rolled to the end of Lincoln Street, where the pavement ended and a gravel road headed out to the country.
“Dude, hurry up!” Alex’s shout came from the woods off to the right. Brian tied Spitfire to his backpack and ran across the field to join the guys and Blackbird. Max waved at him. Alex, carrying the other radio in his own backpack, along with a small black bag slung from his shoulder, nodded toward the empty corner of the flyer. “We have to hurry. If Frankie gets to the park and you’re too late, he’ll say you were too chicken to show up. Then I’ll lose a bunch of money.”
“You bet on me?” Brian asked. They rotated the flyer to get it around a bush.
“I bet on Blackbird taking off,” said Alex. “It’s a long shot, but sometimes you just have to go for it.”
They came out of the trees beside Riverside Road.
“We should cross quickly, before a car comes along and we are discovered,” said Max.
They scurried across the open road as fast as they could. “Good thing she’s so light,” Brian said.
“Actually, it is slightly lighter than usual,” Max said. “The fuel tank is empty. I hid a gas can with my bicycle, the rope, and the weapon at the takeoff point.”
Finally, they came to the edge of the woods near the dead end at the top of the Seventh Street hill. They carried the aircraft through the weeds up to the edge of the road. Ahead and off to the right was a big white house.
“It is perhaps a great irony that the biggest hill in town has Frankie Heller’s house right on top of it,” said Max.
They put Blackbird down in the tall grass next to Max’s bike and ducked down to hide. They had a perfect view of the house. If Frankie was already waiting at the park, they could just take off in time to meet him. If he hadn’t left yet, they would know when he did.
Max put a plastic funnel into the spout on the fuel tank and then filled it up from the gas can. Alex took Brian’s radio and slipped it into the wire basket they’d added to the back of the pilot’s seat. He put the other radio in the dorky-looking basket on the front of Max’s bike. Brian tied a rope to the special hook they’d installed under the engine’s support beam, and tied the other end to Max’s backseat handlebars. Then he checked the tightness of the clamps on the NX-03, the new silver rocket Max had installed on his bike.
Alex slipped the camera out of its carrying bag and gently handed it to Max. “This is my dad’s. It’s the most expensive thing ever. You need to get a lot of good video of the flight, but whatever happens, don’t mess up the camera.”
They sat in silence for a while. Max took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. Then he chewed the earpiece. “I don’t know about this, Brian. Maybe we should abort the mission.”
“This is going to work, Max! I’ve thought about this a lot, and you can’t wait around for a situation to get better. You make a choice. You have to take that risk for greatness.” He took a deep breath. “At the skate park before the first day of school, Wendy asked if I could get air. But flying doesn’t come naturally.” He pointed at Max. “You have to be smart.” He nodded at Alex. “You have to take the big gamble.” He held his fist up. “You have to steal air.”
Just then, Frankie came out his front door and walked away from them, heading toward the park. They waited a while to let him get ahead.
“Begin Phase Three,” Brian said. “Let’s do this.”
A few minutes later, Blackbird was in position in the middle of Seventh Street at the top of the hill. Max rolled his bike about fifteen feet down the street, until the rope they’d strung between the flyer and the bike was taut. Then he walked back.
“I think we’re ready to begin. Gentlemen, please take your seats.” Brian and Alex sat down in the pilot and copilot chairs. Max nodded to Brian. “You are familiar with the controls.” He pointed at a red lever that had been installed to the left of the yoke. “This is new. Pulling that disengages the tow rope.”
“Good to know,” said Brian.
Max walked around toward the back of the aircraft. “Alex, once again, you’ll be in charge of the brakes. Remember, it’s important that you push both levers down at the same time and keep them pushed down until they lock.” He returned to Brian’s side and looked down the street. “I’m still not entirely confident about this.”
Brian gave him a light punch to the shoulder. “Max, you said Blackbird doesn’t have enough power to get up to takeoff speed on a level runway. So, we start the engine and throttle her up, you pull us with the rocketbike, and we’re all rolling down the steepest hill in Riverside. With that much speed, Blackbird will take off just fine.”
“Come on! We have to hurry! Time is literally money here, guys!” Alex said.
Max ran back to the weeds and returned with two damp cloth sacks. “I almost forgot our weapon.”
Alex wrinkled his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. “Unh, that smells worse than it did yesterday.”
“Good,” said Brian. “They’ll work even better, then.”
“But why this?” Alex said. “Why not a basket of eggs or something? We could have mounted a
slingshot and shot the eggs one at a time.”
“Eggs cost money.” Max shrugged. “This was free.”
Alex grabbed the tops of the bags and rested the bottoms on the back corners of both skateboards. “Still, we didn’t have to get the soupiest stuff.”
“Let’s go!” Brian shouted.
“Good luck,” Max said.
“We’ll need it,” said Alex.
Max ran ahead and got on his bike. He gave the thumbs-up. Brian grabbed the handle for the starter cord and yanked hard. The engine sputtered a little. “Come on, Blackbird,” he said. “I need you, girl.” He pulled the cable again. The propeller spun to life with a roar. Either Blackbird would fly, or they’d roll down the hill and crash. There was no backing out now.
Max hit a button on the NX-03 and then started to pedal. Fire burst out of the end of the rocket and the bike shot forward. The rope went tight and Blackbird jerked so hard that Brian was pressed to the back of his chair.
“Oh yeah!” Alex shouted over the noise of the engine, the rocket, and the wind.
They rolled faster and faster down the hill, crossing Lincoln Street in moments. Brian pushed the throttle up to give the engine more power and pulled the yoke toward him. When they cleared Tilford Street, Blackbird rose from the ground about two feet.
“We’re flying!” Alex said.
But something was wrong. The flyer crashed back down to the ground and rolled some more. It felt like their speed had leveled out. Blackbird did another quick jump and then hit the ground.
“Not again!” Alex yelled.
No. Not again. Everything was riding on this flight: saving the company, beating Frankie — everything. They had to fly now. Brian shouted to Alex, “We gotta lose some weight! We’re too heavy for takeoff. Drop one of the sacks!”
“I can’t!” Alex yelled back. “Blackbird is balanced. If I dump one sack, we might tip over.”
“Then drop one bag and center the other!”
“It’s cow poop, dude! These bags are soaked through with it!”
“Alex, drop a bag! Do it now, or we’re not going to make it!”
Alex screamed as he pushed one sack of manure soup onto the street and pulled the other into his lap. “Aw man, you owe me a new pair of pants!”
