Stealing Air (8 page)

The next Wednesday, Brian came home after working in the Eagle's Nest. As usual, he went to the fridge to find something to eat. He wondered if either of his parents would be home for dinner tonight. Since their arrival in Riverside, Dad had worked late in Iowa City with Dr. Warrender most evenings, while just Brian and Mom had supper. Those beat the nights Dad worked into the night
and
Mom had to stay late at the office. Then Brian just had microwaved leftovers or made a sandwich.

“Hey, buddy,” Dad said behind him. Brian jumped and spun around. Dad held his hands up. “Whoa. Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Where were you this afternoon?”

“Nowhere.” He backed up against the fridge. “Hanging out with Alex and Max.”

“Mom is working late, so it's just you and me for supper.” Dad rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “I've been crunching numbers since noon. I need to get out. You heard of this Piggly's restaurant?”

Brian nodded. “Big” Aaron Pineeda talked about it all the time, since his dad owned the place.

Dad put his arm around Brian's shoulders and pulled him along. “All right, then. Let's go.”

 

A little cyclone of dust spun in the wind as Dad pulled the car into the gravel lot at Piggly's. The building had been painted a bright shade of pink, and the sign by the road, lit by pink neon lights, read
Piggly's: Home of the Legendary Big Porker Sandwich
. An enormous pink pig balloon sat up on the roof, twenty-five feet across with a smile six feet wide. It looked like it was dancing as it jiggled in the breeze. Dad parked and they got out.

Brian opened the front door of the restaurant, and immediately an
oink-oink, oink-oink
sounded from a speaker on the wall. A bald man with a big belly spun away from the front counter where he had been talking to a bored-looking high school girl. He flashed a huge grin and held out his arms, looking a little like the grinning pig on the front of his apron. “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome to Piggly's, gentlemen! I'm Ed Pineeda. Who might you be?”

Dad held out his hand. “Hi, I'm Jack Roberts.”

Mr. Pineeda shook Dad's hand so hard that Dad's whole body jiggled. “Nice to meet you, Jack! How can I please your palate tonight? Some slow-roasted succulent ribs with Piggly's SSSBS?”

Dad gave Brian a look like
Is this guy for real?
Brian had to ask. “What's that?”

“Piggly's Super Secret Special Barbecue Sauce!” Mr. Pineeda pinched together his thumb and forefinger, held them to his lips, and kissed them. “It's so sweet, so tangy. Just a little kick. Mmmm. You'll think you're in hog heaven — wait! You
are
in hog heaven! Ha! It'll make your mouth sing for joy! I'll maybe start you with one of my noodle salads what comes with olives shipped in on a special armored truck from a secret supplier out of Des Moines!”

“It all sounds great,” said Dad. “Maybe we could just see a menu?”

“Certainly! Come right this way. I'll get you a table and a couple menus. Lists of all the heavenly dee-lights that you'll find here at Piggly's.” Mr. Pineeda led them to a table and clapped his hands. “I'll leave you gentlemen to the agony of choosing just a few treats from our broad selection, and the lovely Miss Kendra Hanson will be over in a bit to take care of you.”

They looked over the menus. Eventually, the high school girl came over, wearing a pink plastic pig snout on her nose. Dad put his fist over his mouth, trying to hide his laughter, but if this made the girl mad, she didn't show it. “Hi welcome to Piggly's home of the Big Porker I'm Kendra I'll be your waitress tonight may I take your order?” she said all in one breath, without really looking at either of them. Brian sometimes felt bored when going over fractions in math class, but he'd never been as bored as this girl had just sounded.

They ordered a couple of sodas and their food, then a silence fell over the table. Brian and his father used to talk all the time. Tonight, though, neither seemed to have much to say. He looked around the restaurant. A number of plaques hung on the walls for things like
Riverside's Best Restaurant
and
Best Barbecue
with the years of the awards. There were a few red and white Riverside Roughriders pennants. A shelf on another wall held bowling trophies and some pictures of Little League baseball teams wearing Piggly's-sponsored uniforms.

A big pink pig on a poster on the wall behind Dad shouted in huge letters,
PIGGLY'S PIG-OUT CONTEST
. Brian read the details. The first contestant to eat a one-pound barbecue pork sandwich — the Big Porker — plus a side of Pig Tails, otherwise known as curly fries, would win Mr. Piggly, the huge, grinning pink balloon up on the roof. A whole pound of barbecue pork? That sounded awesome.

Dad's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You know, I don't really know anything about what you've been up to lately,” he said. Kendra brought the sodas over and thumped them down on the table. Dad switched his Pepsi with Brian's Mountain Dew, which had been placed in front of him. He ran his fingers back through his hair. “I'm sorry I've been so … well … distant lately. It's just … work, you know.”

Brian did know. Lately, when Dad talked, that was all he talked about.

“And I've been tense and no fun. I'm sorry. It's just that we're having trouble finding the money we need to make more Plastisteel and to make it faster. I thought Mrs. Douglas was going to come through, but she won't accept just a simple demonstration. No, she's like a kid playing with her money, and she wants us to build her some toys. She wants us to make her a Plastisteel car or robot or airplane or …”

Brian looked up sharply. “Don't worry, Dad,” he said. “Things will work out.”

“We're running out of time. There's just no way we can synthesize enough Plastisteel for an effective demonstration that fast! If we don't get a cash infusion soon …” Dad noticed Brian staring at him. “Sorry, buddy. You don't want to hear about any of this stuff. Remember how I talked about taking a risk in order to achieve something great? Well, the thing about risk is that it can bring great success.” He took a drink of soda, but coughed. “Or it can bring failure.”

Brian couldn't remember seeing his father like this before. He looked terrible, all shabby and worn down. There were dark circles under his eyes, and was that gray hair above his ears? If Dad needed money so badly, maybe Brian could convince Alex and Max to just hand the flyer over to Synthtech now so Dad and Dr. Warrender would have something to show Mrs. Douglas. He wanted to tell Dad about it, but he'd made a promise to the guys. He couldn't betray them by ruining the whole secret.

“You're not going to fail, Dad,” Brian said. “I really think your Plastisteel will impress that lady.” The flyer would make sure of that.

“I never give up, Brian,” Dad said quietly. “We're exploring all options, but I think you should prepare for some tough times. I'm … I'm sorry I brought you to Iowa. I took you away from everything in Seattle….”

“No, Dad. It's really great here. I'm having fun,” Brian said. It wasn't a total lie. “I've been hanging out with Alex and Max. I can skateboard right in the street. And there's the cool skate park.” Plus Wendy, as long as Frankie wasn't around.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Brian said. “And here there's a waitress who has to wear a pig snout.”

Dad laughed. Brian had never heard a better sound. “Well, thanks for that. Knowing you're getting along okay here makes me feel a lot better. Listen, don't worry about my business problems, all right? You just focus on school and making friends. All that normal stuff sixth grade boys are supposed to do. Okay?”

Brian nodded as the waitress brought their food. Sure, he should focus on the normal stuff — like secret workshops and homemade airplanes. But he couldn't ignore Dad's problems with the Plastisteel business, and it was time to do something about it.

That night after supper, Brian called Alex and Max for an emergency meeting in the Eagle's Nest.

“No way!” Alex said as soon as Brian suggested they give up the flyer. “This is really what you called us here for? We've worked too hard on this thing. If the grown-ups get the plane, we'll never get to fly it, and then we've lost all those publicity opportunities and the chance for big money.” He looked around as if worried someone else besides Brian and Max might be listening. When he spoke again, he was quieter. “Plus, our car dealership — it isn't doing too good. My dad acts like everything's fine, but our credit won't hold out forever.”

“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.