Bradley Bradshaw was ten years old the first time he flew solo.
"He ain't going anywhere."
"Can we please get down from here? Dad's going to kill us for being up here, and then he'll bring us back to life to kill us again when Bradley dies."
"He's not gonna die."
"Katie's right. I'm going to fly. It's ready." Bradley tightened the straps on his makeshift backpack harness, which jostled the huge homemade glider it was attached to. Cobbled together out of tent poles, parachute material, bungee cords, and shiny duct tape, it was an ugly thing, but he and the younger two Kazansky kids had been working on it for the past five days. He was proud of it.
"Don't forget your helmet," Kate said, holding out a bike helmet with both hands. At eight years old, she was tiny with white-blond curly hair and blue-green eyes, flowers embroidered on her pink coveralls.
Bradley took the helmet and turned it over. "Why's it got Lisa Frank stickers on it?"
"It was boring," she said, offering a bright, innocent grin. "And they're good luck."
"You made that up."
"Nuh-uh." Her smile turned mischievous. "Okay, maybe. But they're cute. These are my favorites."
Bradley laughed and rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Katie."
"You're super very welcome."
Dorothy "Dot" Kazansky ran her hands down her face and then tugged both her brown pigtail braids at the same time. She was the eldest of the Kazansky trio, two years older than Bradley. "Look, I'm in charge—"
"Nah, Tiffany's in charge," her nine-year-old brother TJ said, shrugging. Tiffany, the eighteen-year-old daughter of a commander on the base, was officially their babysitter, but she was almost always either talking on the phone or napping on the couch. Which was crazy since she was getting paid good money to keep an eye on the four kids under her watch, but they had her convinced they were good kids. And they were, most of the time.
When they weren't standing on the roof of the Kazanskys' two story home, waiting for Bradley to jump off and try out his glider.
"She's not out here, and I'm twelve—"
"Y'know, it'd work better off a tower or something," Bradley said, adjusting a bungee cord. He cut his eyes at Dot. "That one by the left airfield isn't bad."
Her nose wrinkled. "I think you'll make a good enough pancake out of yourself jumping off here, Brad."
"Don't call me that."
"He's not gonna do it anyways," TJ said, crossing his arms over his chest. Named after his father, Tom Junior was a good guy but he always saying stuff to get a reaction out of people. And he liked making bets. He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. "And we can't go over there no ways. Maverick and Dad might be over there."
"And if Mav catches you, Bradley, you're getting skinned alive," Dot said.
"Yeah, yeah," Bradley said.
Maverick had volunteered to watch him for a couple weeks to get him out of his mom's hair while school was out for the summer. Mav was temporarily stationed at Lemoore in California because he had done something stupid on his last assignment (that's what Rear Admiral Iceman said).
The Kazanskys' were also stationed there, which meant Bradley spent a lot of time over at their house while Maverick was working. Maverick wouldn't be super happy if he knew about the glider, which was why he and TJ and Kate had built the glider in an unused shed on base. They had pulled its parts to the Kazanskys' house using their bikes and a couple Red Flyer wagons and reassembled it on the roof under the stupid hot sun.
Bradley lifted his hand to cover his eyes and looked out at the backyard. The Kazanskys' backyard bled over into a scruffy field, which was ideal for the running landing he was going to have to make. All he had to do was avoid the trees over in the corner and then not run into any cholla out in that field.
Doable. He could do this. Flying was in his blood, and it didn't matter that this was just a glider. He was going to fly.
"You don't have to do this," Dot said, giving the glider a shake. "This is dumb, Bradley. It's going to break. And then you're going to break!"
"No, it won't."
"There's gum on it!"
"Aw, shove off, Dot, it's gonna work," Bradley said, "Give me some space."
"It's really far down there," TJ said, leaning over the edge of the roof. His cool nonchalant look faltered into worry. "You can totally chicken out, it's okay. I won't make you pay me ten bucks."
Bradley rolled his shoulders. "No, you're paying me ten bucks."
"He can do it!" Katie bounced on the balls of her feet and then put her hands on her hips, shooting her older siblings a frown. "You'll see." Fishing around in her pocket, she pulled out a purple and blue stopwatch. "The Wright Brothers went three seconds on their first flight. You can do way better that, it's a glider!"
"Yeah, maybe this isn't the best time for history facts, Kate," Dot said, her eyes widening in panic. "Bradley—"
Three seconds. Yeah, he could do better than that. A lot better. Before anyone could stop him, he stepped back, the glider catching the wind and nearly picking him up off the roof. He kept going, moving backwards, tuning out Dot and TJ as they kept trying to talk him down.
As he ran forward, up and over the top of the roof, the others had to jump out of the way of the glider, TJ yanking Katie with him.
And then Bradley was airborne. The wind whipped around his face, the sky and ground stretching out ahead of him. And he felt like he could hear his dad laughing, hear him shouting out a cheer of triumph. But he realized it was just him, screaming in sheer joy.
But that's when the wind caught the glider wrong, and his bad stitching job came out of parachute material.
"Oh shit!"
The screaming wasn't so joyful as the glider tilted and headed straight for the trees, slamming into the branches and then tumbling to the ground. His head bounced off a branch. Right before he hit the dirt, the glider crumpling after him, he threw up his arms and heard a crack before everything went dark.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His memories of what happened next were fuzzy. There was a lot of talking and smears of color. High-pitched screaming. Someone asking if he was dead and small, sure fingers finding his pulse. Someone carrying him. He did remember Katie's voice saying he was alive, which was good, because when he woke up, he felt like he'd gotten chewed up by the turbine of an aircraft carrier.
"Do you like giving people heart attacks?"
"Huh?" Bradley blinked and looked around. There was a faint continuous beeping noise and white tiles on the ceiling. He was in a white bed in a room with little kid paintings on the walls...ah. A hospital? And that voice sounded like...
"Heart attacks," Maverick repeated, "They sometimes happen when your kid takes a swan dive off a two-story building."
"Not your kid. Not a swan dive." Bradley drew in a deep breath, which was a mistake. Everything hurt. His face ached. He winced and a pained noise escaped him.
Maverick leaned over the side of bed, his eyebrows knitted together in a worried expression. "Bradley? Does it hurt bad? Do you need something?"
"I'm okay," he said, not feeling anywhere near okay, "Is the glider okay?"
Maverick let out a breath, and his eyes darkened. "You're worried about the glider?"
"Um...no...?"
The dark-haired pilot looked tired and awful, like someone had punched him in the gut a few times. He sighed and sat down heavily in the chair that was drawn up right beside the bed. "Seriously. You're killing me, kid. I have new grey hair because of you, and I don't like it. I think Iceman's got new wrinkles, and your mom—"
"My mom's here?" Bradley started to sit up, but Maverick put a hand on his chest, pushing him back down.
"Not yet, she's on her way."
"She can't, she has work."
"You should've thought about that before you jumped off a roof and nearly broke your neck. And don't move around," Maverick said, "You're more than a little messed up."
Bradley noticed his right arm and the big white cast wrapped around it. He blinked and reached up with his left hand to tap his face. There were more bandages there, and some sticky stuff. "Ow."
"Don't touch it," Maverick scolded, sounding exhausted. "They stitched you up good, but you crashed face first into a tree, Bradley. With a glider made out of a tent."
"And a parachute—"
"You'll scar, but you're lucky," Maverick said, cutting him off, "It could've been way worse." He sighed again and leaned against the side of the bed, arms crossed on the railing. "Was it worth it?"
Bradley looked at the ceiling. He had felt so close to his dad for just a few seconds. Like he could almost reach him. And besides that, there was something indescribable about being in the air. Flying on his own. Being in control. He looked over at Maverick and tried not to grin. "Yep."
Maverick thunked his forehead against the railing and then gave Bradley the smallest of smiles. "Fine. But no more heart attacks."
Bradley didn't have a chance to agree since that's when the door to the room swung open, and Rear Admiral Lower Half Tom "Iceman" Kazansky stepped inside. He gave Bradley a stare that was so steady it was scary. "You look terrible. Can you promise not use my house for psycho daredevil stunts in the future, Bradshaw?"
"Um, sir, yes, sir..."
Iceman finally turned his gaze away to focus on Maverick. "I'll go pick up Carole from the airport. If you want."
"Thanks, Ice," Maverick said.
"Eiiiiight seconds!" Kate came racing into the room, stopwatch bouncing around her neck as she dodged past her dad. "Eight seconds! Bradley! Eight! Seconds!" She was breathless, like she had run down the whole hallway to catch up.
Iceman took two steps forward and plucked her out of her attempt to clamber up onto Maverick's chair so she could step onto the bed. "Kate..."
"No, it's important, Daddy, I told you," Kate said, twisting in his arms and looking over at Bradley. "I told him it was important, but he thinks you need to rest, but it was eight seconds!"
"What was?" Maverick asked, an almost smile on his face as he watched Iceman try to keep a hold on his eight-year-old.
Bradley's eyebrows rose up his forehead. Even through the pain he smiled. "Eight seconds?"
"Eight seconds!" Kate exclaimed, pulling her stopwatch off her neck. She tossed it toward Maverick, who expertly caught it in one hand. "And TJ owes you ten bucks."
Bradley saw the numbers on the screen as Maverick held it up, him and Iceman sharing incredulous looks. Eight seconds. Five seconds longer than the Wright Brothers. Not that he was looking to invent flying all over again, but...
He looked over at Kate, who beamed back at him, both of them reveling in the success of being right. At least she had believed in him. Kate had never said he wouldn't be able to do it. And she was more excited for him than upset with him.
He had really flown.
And he was going to do it again. Just maybe not with a glider.
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Story starts for real tomorrow! Just wanted to throw up the prologue today! :D Thank you for reading!