STORY SO FAR: It’s 1972. Jamie, twelve years old, wants to get away from everybody. So he goes to his favorite hill to watch the sky. Meanwhile, Ed Goddard, preparing to steal money from an airplane, has his parachute ready.

CHAPTER FOUR

Into the Sky

Gillian saw Jamie running toward the top of the next hill. Standing in the middle of her favorite blackberry patch, a tin bucket tied around her neck with a string, she was sure he hadn’t any idea she was watching.

When Jamie reached the hilltop, he lifted his arms and tilted his head back. It looked as if he were pretending to fly.

Gillian had heard about Jamie’s cloud watching, but had never seen him doing it. Her brother had said Jamie was, “weird, standing there staring at nothing, like some sort of freak.” But Mrs. Thornton had told her mother that Jamie was really smart; he just couldn’t read very well. So Gillian wondered what he was really like.

Intent on watching him, she left her bucket on a stick and moved out from the thicket. Spying an old stone wall, she crawled behind it until she was just below where Jamie was standing. With eyes upon the clouds and a smile on his face, he had barely moved. Gillian leaned on the wall and rested her chin on her arms, the better to study him.

Engrossed, Gillian stepped up onto the wallwhich gave way almost immediately. With a shriek, she slid to the ground.

Jamie whirled around. “Hey! You been spying on me?”

Gillian, feeling foolish, rose up slowly. “Just picking berries.”

“Yeah? Where?”

“Back over there.”

“This is my grandpa’s farm, you know,” said Jamie.

“They let me berry here,” said Gillian.

“How long you been watching me?”

“I wasn’t watching you,” she lied. “I was picking berries. See?” She held up her stained hands.

For a moment Jamie thought about what she had said, then swung about and began to march off. “See ya,” he called.

“Wait!” called Gillian.

Jamie stopped. “What?”

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said, and started off again.

Hurt that he would not talk to her, Gillian ran up to the top of the hill. “I was watching,” she yelled after him.

He stopped and looked back. “So what?”

“You don’t have to be so stuck-up,” she answered. “Just because you’re from the city and so smart!”

“I hate the city,” he informed her. “And I’m not smart!”

“I was only asking you what you were doing,” she said. “I never saw anyone do that. Could you teach me?”

“No,” said Jamie. He marched off.

Angry and insulted, Gillian went down the hill, over the wall, and back to her berry patch. Once again she put her bucket around her neck and began picking berries as fast as she could, wanting only to get home soon. But she had made up her mind: she would come back the next day and learn what Jamie was doing. She was not going to let himthe city snobput her off.

The next day at 3:45, Ed Goddard, dressed in a business suit and carrying nothing but the suitcase that contained his parachute, approached the desk of Keystone Airlines at Philadelphia International Airport. “The four-fifteen to Elmira,” he said, handing a ticket to the woman behind the desk.

The woman looked at the ticket, looked at the name, and looked at Ed. “Mr. Bell?” she said.

“That’s right.”

“Thank you,” she said, stamping the ticket and handing it back to Ed along with his boarding pass. “We’ll be boarding shortly.”

It wasn’t long before a voice came over the speaker. “All passengers holding tickets for Flight Seventy-four to Elmira, please go to Gate Six for boarding.”

Goddard presented his boarding pass to the woman standing at the gate.

“I’m afraid you’re the only one,” she said. “All the others are

no-shows.”

“We’ll fly anyway, won’t we?” asked Goddard.

“Rain or shinelike the post office,” the woman said as she gave Ed his boarding pass.

Goddard went down the steps and out onto the tarmac.

“Over here, buddy,” called a mechanic.

Goddard walked toward the Winthrop. The copilot was waiting for him.

“Take your suitcase?”

“No, thanks. I’ll put it under my seat.”

“Sure thing.”

Bending his head under the low ceiling, Goddard took a seat behind the wing and stowed his parachute under the seat. He looked out. Right on schedule, the armored van came into view. The guards, as usual, brought up the money bag. Goddard watched as it was placed in the rear compartment. He heard the click as the copilot locked the door.

The copilot walked by. “You’re it,” he said to Goddard as he passed. “The whole kit and caboodle to yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Goddard watched the copilot go into the cockpit, duck through the small door, and shut it behind him.

Goddard gazed out the window.

“Welcome to Keystone Flight Seventy-four,” said the voice of the copilot over the rough sound system. “We’re heading for Elmira, New York. Flight time one hour and thirty-two minutes. Some thunderclouds, but clear flying all the way. Please have your seatbelt securely fastened. We don’t want to loose you. Have a good flight. Thanks for flying Keystone.”

The turbines roared as the plane paused at the head of the runway. Then the plane began to move faster, and faster . . . and they lifted into the sky.

Tense, Goddard gripped the armrests. “Here we go,” he whispered.

(To be continued.)

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