Such a Rush by Jennifer Echols Read Free Book Online Page B

odd angle against the dark tree line. I concentrated on the tarmac under my feet, then the uneven ground where the grass hadn’t been cut since October, then the runway, with my usual bottle of water sloshing hard in my jacket pocket the whole way. As I got close, I remembered I had the phone in my other pocket. I pulled it out to dial 911.
    But all three of the boys emerged from underneath the wing: Jake first, then Alec, then Grayson. They were laughing.
    I stopped on the asphalt. My lungs burned so painfully that I almost bent over and braced my hands on my knees, but I didn’t want to do that where the boys could see me.
    I turned to yell back to Mr. Hall that Grayson was okay. He saw the boys too and slowed from a jog to a walk. He put his hand over his heart.
    As I walked down the short, grassy slope to where the airplane was lodged and the boys stood, Jake said, “I wish the Admiral had seen it. He would have recommended you for an aircraft carrier.” Jake worshipped the Admiral for his combat record.
    Grayson knew how special this compliment was. It showed in his grin. “Oh, pshaw, it was nothing.” Even his eyes laughed, which looked strange to me. I rarely saw Grayson without his aviator shades and his straw cowboy hat. They must be lost in the cockpit.
    “I wish we’d filmed it,” Alec said. “I wish you could have seen it yourself, Grayson. It seriously looked like you were about to lose it, what, three, four times?”
    “Six or seven times,” Jake said.
    “I don’t have to see it,” Grayson said. “But if we can get the tractor to haul the plane back onto the runway and it checks out, I’ll go again.”
    Jake and Alec hooted laughter. Alec said, “That’s exactly what I was thinking: ‘Grayson is probably enjoying this.’”
    “That’s what Dad was thinking too,” Jake said. He slipped into the imitation of Mr. Hall that all his sons could do so well. “‘That boy probably thinks this is fun. He never did have the sense God gave a goat.’”
    Their laughter quieted as Mr. Hall passed me on the grass. Grayson still smiled, but the laughter had left his eyes. He waited for his father’s verdict.
    I held my breath for the second time that afternoon. When something went wrong at Hall Aviation, it was usually Grayson’s fault, because he forgot a chore or blew it off. But Mr. Hall tended to blame him even when the problem was Alec’s fault, or Jake’s fault, or Mr. Hall’s own fault, or nobody’s fault at all. I had wanted to tell Mr. Hall this before, but it was not my place to say.
    Mr. Hall slapped Grayson’s shoulder, then moved his hand to the back of Grayson’s neck. “And that, son, is a ground loop.”
    They all burst into laughter again, Mr. Hall included. Grayson said sarcastically, “Thank you for the insight, Father.”
    “Let’s see what kind of damage you did to her.” Mr. Hall walked around the wing tip lodged in the grass, heading for the nose. Alec and Jake followed him, but Grayson stayed where he was. Now that they weren’t watching him, his blond brows knitted. He looked at the plane, then at the sky, and bit his lip.
    I whispered, “Are you really okay?”
    His gray eyes widened at me, as if he hadn’t noticed me standing there until now. He whispered back, “Actually, I think I’m going to hurl.”
    “I’ll cover for you.”
    He stared at me for a moment more, like he didn’t trust me. Then he turned and jogged toward the trees.
    I followed Mr. Hall and the boys around the wing and peered over their shoulders as they turned the seemingly undamaged propeller by hand, testing it. I waited until they noticed Grayson was missing.
    “Grayson? Where’s Grayson?” Mr. Hall called.
    I glanced back at the wing. “Uh-oh, the gas tank has ruptured.”
    “What?” Mr. Hall bellowed. He and Alec and Jake moved from the propeller to crowd around the wing. I pointed to a scrape as if I thought this indicated structural damage to the tank. They poked at the