Letting Amelia Learn To Fly
August, 2010

	If there was anything Amelia lived for, it was Friday afternoons.  She was still grounded because of the wreck and while her dizzy spells were less severe now, they still plagued her.  During the week, she worked in a factory for ten hours a day, screwing little bits of plastic on to other bits of plastic, while the oil that coated everything soaked into her fur, and the noise gave her frequent headaches.  But, on the weekend, she could fly.  She'd saved up enough to buy a couple of small, remote-controlled toy airplanes, and on Friday afternoon, she always took one of them with her to the park, where the ground was level enough to let them take off.  As long as she didn't look up too high, where the real jets roared by overhead, she could almost imagine that her life was different.
	This afternoon, she had brought her favorite toy.  It was, after some careful modification, an accurate model of a Lockheed Electra.  A thick-winged aircraft, with two powerful propellers, it was the same kind of plane that had carried her namesake away into history.  She was still learning how to fly it, but on a good day, she could keep it up in the air for more than an hour before letting it touch the ground again.  She smiled as she let her little Electra roll forward, tiny engines buzzing.  All around her, the park was alive with the sound of happy children, and college kids with cigarettes and clandestine beers in the picnic area.
	The dizziness hit her without warning.  Most of the time, she knew one was coming by the way her head throbbed and her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton.  This afternoon, she had just gotten her toy level with the tree tops, when her vision blurred.  She pushed the flight stick down hard, and hoped there was nobody in front of her.  The controller slipped out of her paws when she dropped to her knees, and she scrabbled blindly in front of her to find it again.  She thought she felt her paw bump against it once, and then it was gone.  All she could do was kneel where she was until the world stopped moving, and hope that it didn't hit anybody.
	She jumped when someone touched her shoulder, and was thrown so off-balance that she landed on her butt in the grass.  She groaned, and tried not to think how hard it was to get grass stain out of white fur, never mind her one good skirt.  Somebody leaned down from above her, and she caught the strangely familiar smell of good perfume mixed with flea shampoo.
	“Are you okay?” the stranger said.
	The voice was female, and it sounded genuinely concerned, and Amelia let herself relax a little.  She forced her ears to unfold from the top of her head, and hoped her snarl could pass for a grimace of pain.
	“I'll be fine.  I just need to sit down for a minute,” said Amelia.
	“I should say so.  I'm not much good at telling, with cats, but you look sick as, well--”
	“A dog?” said Amelia “I guess you'd know, huh?”
	Her vision was clearing, enough that she could make out her new friend's dark orange fur, and elegantly pointed muzzle.  The vixen winced, but hid it under a quick smile.
	“I always hated that saying,” she said.
	The vixen held out a paw, and Amelia let herself be pulled to her feet.  The girl didn't let go of her right away, but held on to her until she stopped swaying.  Amelia was dimly aware that she was being sniffed.
	“You don't remember who I am, do you?” said the fox
	“Should I?  Do you know how many people are in this city?  How many foxes I see every day at work?” said Amelia.
	“Well, we did found the city.” said the girl “Okay, what about Southside High?  Remember?  You graduated Valedictorian, while I was expelled after the senior prom,” said the fox.
	Amelia could see the vixen clearly now.  Her new friend was dressed in a black t-shirt that was too young for her, and a pair of bluejeans ripped across the knees.  She wore a delicate pair of wire-framed glasses, which only just hid a long, thin scar that went all the way across her muzzle.  That gave Amelia's memory another little prod, through the headache, and the hot fog of embarrassment.
	“Leslie?” she said.
	“Same old Amy.  You always did suck at remembering people's names,” said Leslie.
	“Not when they were my friends.  I thought you hated me,” said Amelia.
	“I never did.  I... I teased you, there's a difference,” said Leslie.
	“You always made me cry.  Every day in grade school, there was always something.  If you weren't putting mud on my shirt, you were stealing my pencils,” said Amelia.
	“I thought you understood.  All that stuff, that was just, well, pulling little girls' pigtails.  That sort of thing,” said Leslie.
	Amelia tried to pull her arm out of Leslie's grasp but she was still weak from her fit, and the girl had to catch her before she toppled over backward.  After that, Leslie ignored all of her protests and led her over to a nearby park bench.  Amelia sat down without needing to be told and Leslie perched on the edge of the bench beside her.
	The slender vixen beside her was quite a bit different than the puppy Amelia remembered.  In grade school Leslie had been chubby and awkward, and always dressed in clothes that didn't fit.  She had been quite strong, though, and had more than made up for being teased by taking it out on any girl smaller than she was.  Amelia had been her favorite target.  A small, white kitten with a stutter, and a mother who delighted in dressing her all in pink had been too much fun to leave alone.
	“What are you still doing here, anyway?  As smart a kitty as you are, I would have thought you'd be long gone from this place,” said Leslie.
	“I had big plans.  I was going to go to college and learn to fly.  But Mom got sick, and then there was a wreck and, oh, all kinds of things you don't want to hear about.  Now I can't even fly as a passenger,” said Amelia.
	“You always did like airplanes more than any girl I ever knew,” said Leslie “I'm sorry.”
	Today, Leslie was a handsome fox, with a flat stomach and full, round breasts under clothes, which clung to her figure in a way that Amelia was certain she shouldn't find so exciting.  Leslie looked like someone who should be running track on national television.  Amelia, meanwhile, had grown up into someone rather plain, and she was still smaller than she should be.  It took the right pair of high heels to get her up over five feet, and that was only if she wanted to risk twisting her ankle with every step.  She was healthy, but lately she had developed a bit of a tummy she couldn't get rid of.  Worse, her fur was a boring shade of white.
	“Didn't you used to paint your fur all kinds of different colors?” said Leslie.
	“Oh yes.  I've always wished I was a calico, you know?  But when you're thirty-one, you can't get away with the same kinds of things you could when you were thirteen,” said Amelia.
	“I don't see why not.  My mother used to be friends with a vixen who still dyed her hair pink when she was in her fifties,” said Leslie.
	“She probably didn't have to worry about a dress code,” said Amelia.
	Now that she felt better, she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to her airplane.  She hadn't heard any cries of anger or pain, and nobody had come to shout at her.  That probably meant it was lying on the ground in pieces.  She started to get up, but Leslie's paw tightened around her wrist.
	“You're not going to faint on me again, are you?” said the girl.
	“No, I'm fine.  It doesn't happen that often.  Usually only once a week now, maybe twice if I forget to take my pills,” said Amelia.
	“Let me help you look for your toy, then,” said Leslie.
	Amelia felt the blush turn the insides of her ears bright red.  Usually, she didn't worry about what other people thought of her.  Flying toy airplanes wasn't any more ridiculous than chasing a frisbee.  It was just with Leslie, who reminded her of years of stupid schoolyard taunts, that she suddenly felt self-conscious.
	“No, it's okay.  I'm sure it won't be that hard to find, and I'm sure you've got things to do,” she said.
	This time, she succeeded in shaking the girl's paws away and she didn't look back.  It was rude, but she didn't trust herself with the way Leslie made her feel.  She'd had girlfriends before, but it didn't seem right to have a crush on the same girl who had torn her favorite doll in half when she was eight.  It shouldn't matter that Leslie was the same girl who, years later, had broken Scott Peterson's arm when he had pushed Amy's skirt up after the high school prom and tried to take what she wouldn't give him.
	She searched the entire north side of the park, even under the bushes, but found no sign of her toy.  After half an hour she decided to give up.  It was growing late, and her sister would be worried about her if she didn't get home soon.  Her house was four blocks from the park, and she normally rode the bus back.  But this afternoon she felt she needed to walk to clear her head.

	Ruth had dinner ready for her when she got to the house.   This evening, the kitchen was full of warmth and the smell of mild spices and chicken casserole.  It was the dish Ruth liked best, and she made it rather more often than Amelia had the patience for.  But it made the kitten happy, so there didn't seem any point in spoiling things.
	For all that there were twelve years between them, Amelia and her sister could have been twins.  They had the same white fur, and the same pale green eyes they'd inherited from their mother.  The only way to tell them apart, besides age, was by the broad patch of black saddle-shaped fur that sprawled across Ruth's back.  The girl was nearly naked, as usual, wearing nothing more than a t-shirt that reached past her knees.  When Ruth saw her, the girl gave a little shake of her head, and pointed at the casserole dish sitting in the middle of the table.  The stern effect was slightly spoiled by the fact that the girl was grinning.
	“There you are, at last.  Did you miss the bus again?” said Ruth.
	“I needed some time to myself, so I decided to walk home,” said Amelia.
	“Walk?  Are you kidding?  What if you had another one of your spells?” said Ruth.
	“I did.  In the park,” said Amelia.
	Ruth set the saucepan she was holding in the sink and led Amelia to her chair at the table.
	“Are you okay?” said Ruth.
	“I think so.  I met someone,” said Amelia.
	Ruth grinned and ladled the casserole into pale blue bowls, which she put in the microwave.
	“Was she cute?”
	“Ruth, really.  I can meet someone without wanting to go to bed with them.”
	“I didn't say otherwise.  But you don't stay out an hour past your usual time, if you just want to be friends.”
	“She was just someone I used to know.”
	“The last girl you had was a cutie.  I don't think you'd have survived, as a vegetarian, but who knew rabbits could look that good?”
	“I dated Alice for six months, three years ago.  I'm surprised you even remember her,” said Amelia.
	“She was the only girl you ever brought home,” said Ruth.
	“Mom would have had a fit, if she'd known.”
	The microwave buzzed, and Amelia watched Ruth bring dinner to the table, with the hot bowls balanced on her fingertips.  At nineteen, Ruth was more of a housewife than she had any right to be.
	“So who was it this time?  Tell me.  Anyone I know?” said Ruth.
	“I doubt it.  She's an old classmate of mine, a girl called Leslie Brandt, who--”
	“Michael's older sister?” said Ruth “I thought you hated her.”
	“It's more complicated than that,” said Amelia.
	“Isn't it always?” said Ruth.
	Amelia picked at her food to make her sister happy, but she didn't have much of an appetite.  She hadn't gone to a single class reunion, and she'd never expected to see anyone she knew in school again.  Some of them still lived in Hopewell City, but most of them had fled at the first chance they'd had.
	“Maybe you should call her tomorrow,” said Ruth.
	“Are you nuts?  I can't do that.  I hardly know the girl, and besides, I don't have her number,” said Amelia.
	“I do,” said Ruth.
	“No.  I don't care if you know her address, and her favorite kind of ice cream.  It was just a chance encounter, and she'll have forgotten all about it by morning.”
	“Maybe it was fate that the two of you met,” said Ruth.
	Amelia stared at her sister over her last forkful of casserole, but there wasn't even a hint of a smile on Ruth's face.  It was just like her sister to think that way.  The child had grown up on romantic fantasies.  The first books she remembered Ruth taking an interest in had all been about King Arthur and Guinevere.
	“She'll think it's creepy.  Nobody wants an ex-classmate calling them up to hit on them,” said Amelia.
	“I'll call her then,” said Ruth.
	“Don't you dare.  You're not going to play matchmaker on me again, I won't have it,” said Amelia.
	“You liked Alice, didn't you?” said Ruth.
	They finished their dinner in silence and went to their own rooms for the rest of the evening.  Amelia didn't have the heart to start building a new airplane, so she lay on her bed to watch the sun set instead.  When she shut her eyes, and swiveled her ears back toward the rest of the house she could just hear the sound of Ruth's flute from across the hall.  The kitten had played in high school, and she still practiced religiously every night.  As Amelia drifted off, she could hear the faint strains of the Moonlight Sonata coming back to her.

	Amelia was in the shower when the doorbell rang.  She was tempted to just ignore it.  Her hair was full of shampoo, and she couldn't imagine what, on a Saturday, could be so important that it couldn't wait until at least noon.  Then she heard Ruth run past the bathroom door, and she gave up.  Her sister had done something stupid again, and she was going to have to fix it.  She killed the spray, shook the excess water out of her fur, and groped for her clothes folded up on top of the laundry hamper.  All she had clean were one of her mother's old skirts, and a shirt with an embarrassingly low neck but, wet as she was, maybe she could pretend she'd been to the pool.
	She came out to find that Ruth had already led Leslie into the living room.  The vixen was seated awkwardly on one side of the love seat Ruth had built out of milk crates and foam cushions.  She had a small cardboard box across her knees, and she stood up when Amelia stepped into the room.
	“I know it's early, but your sister said you wanted to see me.  I have something for you,” said Leslie.
	“She called you?” said Amelia.
	Ruth, who was sitting on the only other chair in the room, grinned sheepishly, and sank back into her seat under her sister's glare.
	“Oh, no.  I came by to see you and she let me in,” said Leslie.
	Amelia, remembering her manners, took the box out of Leslie's paws and set it down on the coffee table to open it.  Inside was her toy Electra.  Against all expectations, the little airplane looked in perfect shape.  There  was a sharp smell of glue and paint, but even when she lifted it out of the box, Amelia couldn't see any damage.
	“Your address was printed on the underside of one wing,” said Leslie.
	“I looked everywhere,” said Amelia.
	“Except under the swings behind our bench.  I had to put a new propeller on and fix one of the wings, but it had a pretty soft landing, all things considered,” said Leslie.
	Amelia turned her toy around in her fingers and she wanted to cry with relief.  She knew it was ridiculous to get emotional over something that was only a toy, but nobody else would have bothered to bring it back to her.
	“I didn't know you flew,” she said.
	“I used to when I was a girl.  I was forced to grow out of it, but it all kind of came back to me last night,”  said Leslie.
	Amelia put the little plane back in the nest of newspapers Leslie had made to cushion it before it could shake right out of her paws.  She wondered, briefly, how much trouble she would get in for giving Leslie a kiss.
	“Thank you,” she said.
	She closed the box and put it on the floor underneath the table.
	“Sit down, both of you.  You're making me nervous, hovering around like that,” said Ruth.
	Leslie and Amelia both looked at the sofa.  To Amelia, it suddenly seemed much too small.  The park bench had been one thing.  She hadn't realized, until later, how close to Leslie she had been or how exciting it had been to have the girl's leg pressed against her.
	“The floor is fine with me,” she said.
	“In a skirt?  That's much too nice for the floor,” said Leslie.
	Leslie was wearing her usual t-shirt and jeans, but when she started to sit down on the floor Amelia took hold of her arm.
	“No guest in my house is going to sit on the floor,” she said.
	This time it was Leslie's ears that turned red, but she smiled when Amelia sat down on the sofa beside her.  Ruth's makeshift loveseat was perfectly comfortable for something made out of milk crates, but it was slightly too small for two people to sit comfortably together, and Amelia's leg pressed tight against Leslie's.  The vixen folded her paws demurely in her lap, but her elbow still pushed lightly against Amelia's arm.
	“I think maybe I've come at a bad time.  I thought, since you live practically next door to me, I could just drop by to give you back your airplane.  But I got you out of the shower, I'm sorry,” said Leslie.
	She moved to get up again, but stopped when when Amelia put a paw on her arm.
	“It's okay, really.  I'm afraid that Ruth and I get visitors so rarely that we've forgotten how to act, but you're more than welcome, please,” said Amelia.
	“I see.  Well, if you're sure,” said Leslie.
	She settled back in her seat and laid her paw on top of Amelia's, with a gentle squeeze of her fingers.  Ruth couldn't hide the grin that flashed across her muzzle, and she curled up in her chair, with her legs tucked under her.  The child was wearing her glasses this morning, and an over-sized t-shirt that came down almost to her knees, because she believed these made her look innocent.
	“I've thought about you a lot since high school,” said Leslie.
	“Really?  Why?” said Amelia “I mean, I always meant to call you after you were expelled, to thank you.  But Mom never would let me.  She said I'd caused you enough trouble and I should leave you alone.”
	“Because it wasn't right for everyone to blame you.  I might have been kicked out of school, but I know that everyone blamed you for what happened,” said Leslie.
	“Except Mom.  I think she'd have given you a medal,” said Ruth.
	The girl blushed a little under their combined stares, and she burrowed a little deeper into her cushions.
	“I was six.  I wasn't stupid,” she said.
	“I should have tried harder.  It wasn't just ungrateful of me not to call you.  I know that Scott used to be your friend,” said Amelia.
	“More than that.  I dated him, once, when he was eleven and I was twelve.  That's why I broke his arm in two places.  Once for you, and once for me,” said Leslie.
	“I didn't think you ever liked boys... like that,” said Amelia.
	The words slipped out before she could stop them, and as soon as they were said she wanted to be able to call them back.  But Leslie just smiled and glanced down at her lap.
	“You're right.  He taught me that.  I guess I should have gone easier on him, for that favor,” said Leslie.
	Amelia's fur was nearly dry now, but her hair was thicker and still wet.  A little drop of water fell from her bangs into her cleavage and she shivered at the sudden cold.  Leslie reached up and ran a paw through her hair.
	“Look at this.  I'm making you sit here in the air conditioning without so much as a towel.  I won't hear another word until you're warm and dry again,” said the vixen.
	She stood, and pulled Amelia up with her.  For a moment they were close enough that Amelia could have kissed her.  Then Leslie pushed her gently toward the bathroom.
	“Ruth, why don't you get Ms. Brandt something to drink, instead of sitting there on your butt and smirking at everything,” said Amelia.
	The kitten stuck out her tongue, but she hopped up and beckoned for Leslie to follow her.  All they had in the house was diet soda and cold tea, because that was all Ruth would drink, but it would have to do.
	In the bathroom, Amelia changed into a dry shirt and toweled her hair until her arms ached.  While she was there, she took a moment to get her breath back.  When they'd been in school together she had gone out of her way to avoid Leslie and her little pack of cronies.  Now she couldn't stop thinking of what it would be like to kiss her.  It was bad enough to have a crush at sixteen, but at thirty-one it was inexcusable.
	When she finally dared go back in the living room, Leslie was sitting down with a soda in her paws and her thick fox tail curled around her waist.  Amelia was dimly aware that Ruth was chattering away about her flute.  Everything came back to music, with the girl.  Leslie's ears were swiveled forward to listen, and she looked genuinely interested, but Amelia was sure that wouldn't last.  She tiptoed back to the sofa and Leslie gave her quick glance, and a smile.  At that, Ruth sprang up and pulled the box out from under the coffee table.
	“If Leslie has your little airplane all fixed up you should give it a spin,” said the kitten.
	“I think it's a wonderful idea.  You want to make sure it can fly,” said Leslie.
	Caught off guard, Amelia blinked at both of them.  But she accepted the box when Ruth pushed it into her lap, and brushed her fingers across the body of the plane.
	“I should wait until Leslie goes home.  She doesn't want to stand around and watch me play with my toys,” said Amelia.
	“Don't be silly.  I want to know if it's going to work, too,” said Leslie.
	Amelia lifted her Electra out of the box, and turned it over in her paws.  The paint had been fixed even on the underside of the wings, and it was only because she had built most of it herself that she even knew where the damage had been.
	“When you're ready,” said Leslie.
	The vixen took Amelia's arm in her own, and held out her other paw to Ruth.  But the kitten shook her head and took a step back.
	“The two of you go on.  I'd only get in the way, and I find airplanes boring anyway,” said Ruth.
	“Are you sure?  I was going to buy ice cream,” said Leslie.
	“It hurts my teeth.  Anyway, I've got some new sheet music in I want to try and I don't think Amy wants to be in the house the first time through,” said Ruth.
	“Neither do you, if you value your ears,” said Amelia.
	Ruth stuck out her tongue, and Amelia hurried Leslie outside before the kitten could fetch her flute.
	The day was quite mild for early August.  The sky was bright blue and free of clouds, and there was just enough of a breeze to tease a strand of hair across Amelia's eyes.  Leslie brushed the hair away, so she wouldn't have to take either paw off of her airplane, and the girl traced a finger across Amelia's cheek.
	“Your sister told me about your dizzy spells, and why you have them,” said Leslie.
	“They're better than they used to be.  I had to use a wheelchair for almost a year after the accident, because even standing up could trigger them,” said Amelia.
	“She also told me why you fly these little model airplanes.”
	Amelia felt the embarrassment rising in her ears again, and she laid them flat so Leslie wouldn't see.
	“I came so close.  I was only three months away from earning my license,” she said.
	This early in the morning the park was almost empty.  There were only the perpetual group of college students, lounging by the civic statue of the town's Noble Founder, with cans of beer hidden behind their backs, and, in one corner, a pot-bellied Doberman with a string trimmer, and his tongue lolling from his mouth.
	They chose Picnic Corner for their runway because it was flat, and nobody ever went there now the new barbecue pits had been installed closer to the front.  Leslie sat on the grass and chewed a claw, while Amelia lined the Electra up and ran through her pre-flight checklist.  It was difficult for her to focus.  As mild as it was, the sun had given her a headache, and excitement made her paws tremble as she worked.  But after twenty minutes she was ready, with the controller in her paws.
	Even the small noise of the Electra's twin propellers powering up made Amelia's head throb.  But when she released the braked and the plane shot forward, she couldn't help but smile.  Her first airplanes had been made of paper, cleverly folded so they could fly across a classroom while the teacher's back had been turned.  Her mother had disapproved, at first.  In Madeline Spencer's world, little girls did not like machines.  But it had been her mother who had given Amelia her first plastic models on her eleventh birthday.  At first, she had been restricted to little toys that were attached to the controller by a wire, and could only go around in circles.  Later, in high school, she had moved to more elaborate models.
	“I tweaked things a little bit.  One of your flaps was shaken loose by the crash, and I never could resist tinkering with things,” said Leslie.
	Amelia grinned and put her plane into a sharp turn above the trees.  It flew past them, so low that Amelia could have brushed its belly with her fingers, and headed out across the lawn.
	“It's just like my first time all over again,” she said.
	The dizziness hit her just as she turned her plane around for its return flight.  This time, she managed to hold on to the controller, and she was able to put the plane into a wide turn that would keep it from diving straight into the ground.  But she felt herself falling backward.  She kicked a leg behind her to try to steady herself, and hit something soft and warm.
	“It's okay,” said Leslie, right by her ear “I've got you, just like last time.”
	Leslie's arms wrapped around her, and she felt the vixen's paws cover her own.  She resisted at first.  When her dizzy spells came she was as good as blind, and the loss of control frightened her.
	“I can't.  If I let go it'll crash, and we won't be able to fix it a second time,” she said.
	“I won't let anything happen to you.  I promise,” said Leslie.
	Amelia didn't let go of the remote, but she did slacken her grip enough to let Leslie take control.  She felt the vixen's fingers work around her's, and heard the buzz of the Electra's engines as it approached.  This time, her dizziness didn't seem quite as bad.  She leaned her head against Leslie's chest, and by the time the toy plane was above them her spell had almost passed.
	“Don't land it yet.  I want to fly a little while longer,” she said.
	Leslie gave up the Electra's controls, but she didn't let go of Amelia's paws.  She stayed right where she was long after Amelia could stand on her own again, and Amelia felt comforted by her warmth.  Nobody had held her in a long time.  She sent her toy airplane out one more time, on a wide circle of the park and snuggled deeper into Leslie's arms.  Leslie laughed, and kissed the top of her head.
	“What was that for?” she said.
	“You're purring,” said Leslie.