One day before school, Katie came running up to me very excited. Actually, it was sort of a cross between running and jumping. She ran into me so hard, I thought she was going to knock me over. But, it was okay. She can run into me whenever she wants. “I got in! I got in!” she said, waving a piece of paper in my face.

“Got into what?” I asked, although I was afraid I already knew the answer.

“I got into NCCCPA!”

“Nikpa? What’s Nikpa?”

She hit me in the chest with the paper. “New Calvert City College of Performing Arts. I’ve been accepted! That was the school I wanted!”

“That’s great!” I said to her.

“That sucks!” I said to Jeff, later that evening.

“You knew it was coming,” he said. Have I mentioned that I hate it when he’s right? “Maybe now you should tell her how you feel.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said, feeling my stomach beginning to tighten. “I mean, it’d be great if she stayed here for me, but she has a dream. You know? She wants to be an actress. I don’t want to stand in the way of her dream.”

Jeff was trying to be supportive, even though I knew he thought it was a lost cause. “How are you going to build a relationship if she’s not here? Do you really want an e-mail relationship?”

“If only there were a way I could be down there, so I’d be around her more, but still live up here.”

“You could move in with your dad,” Jeff said. In retrospect, I should have done that first.

“I wish I could fly down on a regular basis to see her,” I said, “but, how much would it cost to keep flying down there?”

“What you need is your own flying suit,” Jeff said nonchalantly. “Like Armored Man.”

The next part all happened so fast. It seems surreal now. I think I said something like, “no, it doesn’t have to be armored” and “maybe if it had a hang glider attached.”

We both looked at each other, as if we’d had the same revelation. The next thing you know, we’re drawing plans for a flying suit, complete with retractable wings that pop out of a kind of metal backpack. There was also a helmet with built-in headphones that hooked up to my cell phone, so that I could keep in contact with Jeff. He also suggested two small, self-contained rockets attached to boots, to be used ("in case of emergency only") for quick upward take-offs.

It was as if we were creating our own comic book hero, complete with costume, and I was going to be the guy in the costume. Neither of us stopped to question the sanity of what we were doing.

"I’ll need some place to keep my variometer," I said. "Maybe something like a fanny pack."

"Fanny pack?" Jeff winced. "Fanny packs are the least sexy accessory. How about you just stick it in a pocket?"

“Okay. Fine. A pocket. I don’t know about these rocket boots,” I said, suddenly having flashbacks of the exploding can of liquid on the day I met Jeff.

“You won’t be using them very often,” he stressed. “You should be able to glide to the city without using any fuel.”

“What would I do with the suit once I’m in the city? I couldn’t walk around with it on. Can you see me walking into a store wearing that?”

“It’s NCC, Dude. That city is full of crazy people!”

Now, it was my turn to give him the condescending glance, for a change.

“Okay, okay,” he said, and put up his hands in surrender.

“Is there anything on top of your dad’s roof?”

“No,” I said, “just a bunch of his boxes. Well, I think he started a garden up there at one time. I don’t know if he ever finished it.”

These conversations went on for days, even when we were in school. During the few classes that we had together, we’d pass notes and drawings to each other, like we were in grade school again.

At the end of the night, we put the plans away and they got lost under a pile of other papers, forgotten like many of our crazy ideas that never saw the light of day.

Next Chapter: Chapter Seven