Foiled

Foiled

Carey Fessler

Foeg

Chapter 1

Kate Cooper’s issue with Billy Thompson was simple: He had a big secret and she just had to know what it was. She stared at him through the screen door. I’m grounded until I mow the lawn.

Can’t you sneak out again? This is the biggest secret ever.

Just tell me.

Can’t. I have to show you.

If you help me mow, you can show me sooner.

Too hot outside.

I’ll give you a Popsicle—double stick. Sticky brown drops trickled down her hand.

What flavor?

Root beer.

Nah, that’s okay.

Fine. I’ll mow the lawn all by myself. It’ll probably take me all afternoon, though. Heck, you might even have to wait until supper time to show me the secret. Sure that she’d bagged a helper, she waited for his next move.

He twisted his mouth. Okey-doke. I’ll tell you later then. Bye. He dashed away. She pressed her head against the screen, watching him run home to the house next door. That was not the move she’d expected. Was she losing her touch?

She strolled into the kitchen and steam spat from the iron.

That Popsicle’s dripping on the floor. Her mother was hunched over an ironing board and pressing her nurse’s uniform. Clean it up.

I will. She grabbed the first thing in sight. After wiping the floor with an oven mitt, she tossed it into the sink and thought about how to get out of mowing the lawn.

The radio droned away. It’s one o’clock and here are the headlines. The army reported the capture of a flying disk near Roswell, New Mexico …

The news jolted Kate out of her scheming. She and her mother lived on post at Roswell Army Air Field. Although she was used to seeing all kinds of military aircraft buzzing around, she’d never seen or heard of a flying disk. Who could such an unusual aircraft belong to? The Nazis? Impossible. The war had ended a couple of years ago, and that evil man who started it was dead.

… and in sports, continued the radio announcer, the 1947 Major League Baseball All-Star Game will be played today at Wrigley Field in Chicago …

She stared blankly into space. Billy loved baseball. Later, he’d have his ear glued to the speaker listening to the game, and she’d never get the secret out of him then. That was Billy at the door, and he begged me to come over. Said it was an emergency. She widened her eyes for added effect.

Her mother half-smiled and kept on ironing. I start work at six tonight. I want the lawn cut before then, or you’ll stay grounded for the rest of the—

I know. She gazed out the kitchen window. A breath of hot desert air teased the curtain, and a bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She tried to ignore the ankle-high grass waving lazily at her from the backyard. There was only one thing worse than doing homework: chores, especially on a hot-tamale day like today. After rinsing her hands, she dried them on her hand-me-down summer dress and stepped onto the front porch with bare feet. A tiny bird darted past her face.

In the sunlight, it shone like a feathered jewel, its softly thrumming wings a blur as it hovered next to the feeder that her grandfather had made. Grandpa Clyde was a bit of a rascal. She missed him and wished he lived closer so she could be with him every day during the summer instead of every few weeks.

Bouncy laughter up the street drew her attention. The two new kids were playing in a water sprinkler a few houses away. All the houses were painted the same three colors: white, cream, and monkey-vomit green. The family had moved in yesterday, and she hoped to make friends with the girl, who she’d chatted with briefly, and who’d also just turned eleven. Making friends was easy, but keeping them was impossible.

She hated the army transferring families to a different post every couple of years. It wasn’t fair. Didn’t they know kids needed long-time friends? Humpf. Who was she kidding? The army didn’t care about friends or fairness. After all, it was the military. Even though she considered Billy an almost-best friend, what she really wanted was a best friend she could keep for more than two years.

In a window corner, a long-legged spider bobbed in a web. She scooped it up gently. Sorry, Mrs. Daddy Longlegs, but if Mom or that hummer spots you, you’ll be gone. She released the spider into the cover of a shrub.

She touched her nose to a creamy white flower. The petals felt silky-soft against her skin. She inhaled. The perfume of the gardenia reminded her how she loved summer—no school, playing all day. Unlike the sight or scent of a lily, which still brought a dull pain in her chest.

The garage housed the dreaded push mower—the source of more pain, but in the form of blistered hands rather than a hole in her heart. After wrestling the heavy contraption to the edge of the grass, she gazed over its rusty handle to the house next door. Even though she’d be seeing Billy at supper, his words echoed in her head. Biggest secret ever. Pulling free the ribbon that held her ponytail, she eyed the porch and checked the windows. No sign of her mother, who was probably still ironing perfect military creases into her uniform. She looked at Billy’s house, then back at the windows. She’d have to be quick or she’d risk more than being grounded. Her mother might not let her spend next week at Grandpa’s as she’d promised. That would hurt more than anything. But she loved secrets, so she had to know, now.

She sprang across the lawn toward Billy’s house and rushed onto the stoop. After a quick pause, she snuck through the screen door and hurried down the hallway to his bedroom. What’s this big secret you wanted to show me?

He looked up from a western comic book. Gee-whiz, I thought you were grounded.

I am. So this better be worth it.

Did you see today’s paper?

No.

Back in a jiffy. He bounded clumsily out the door.

She glanced inside the Lone Ranger comic book on the bed. A masked cowboy and his Indian sidekick rode their horses through a place called Dead Man Canyon.

Why’d Billy read this stuff? The days of the Wild West renegades and outlaws were long gone. She’d stick to reading about Archie, Betty, and Veronica. She sat crossed-legged and her hand dropped to her lap, pressing down her skirt.

A Brooklyn Dodgers pennant hung on the wall—one of Billy’s favorite teams. She liked that they’d started Jackie Robinson at first base this year. Not because he was the first black to play in Major League Baseball, but because he was ex-army. On top of the dresser stood a piggy bank shaped like Joe DiMaggio, with a big head, a little body, and a New York Yankees uniform. Billy loved baseball, but he was always the last kid to be picked unless she was a captain. He rushed back into the room carrying a newspaper and shoved it under her nose.

Roswell Daily Record

Tuesday, July 8, 1947

RAAF Captures Flying Saucer on Ranch in Roswell Region

The intelligence office of the 509th Bomber Group at Roswell Army Air Field announced at noon today that the field has come into possession of a flying saucer.

My dad made me promise not to tell anyone because it’s supposed to be a secret, but since it’s in the paper, I reckon it’s okay to show you my souvenirs now. A smile formed across Billy’s lips. He grabbed his old shoebox off the wobbly shelving he’d hammered together for his Boy Scout merit badge and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. He took off the lid and there were several items, including a slingshot, a compass, a Swiss Army knife, and a Zippo lighter.

She picked up a cat’s-eye marble. This is pretty. I’ll trade you for my bumblebee boulder, the one I never play for keepsies.

Nah, it’s my lucky shooter. He plucked it out of her hand, tossed it back into the box, and pulled out three pieces of what looked like aluminum foil. My dad was part of a group that cleaned up the debris from a crash site in the Capitan Mountains. He snuck these home as souvenirs.

This is the big secret? Pieces of aircraft wreckage?

"But it’s not from an army plane. It’s from an alien spaceship."

Billy had a wild imagination, but she didn’t. I can’t believe you let me risk getting grounded even longer for this stupid secret. I’m going home.

It’s true. Watch this. He picked up a piece of foil, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it onto the floor. The foil returned to its original shape—on its own—with no wrinkles.

Is this some kind of trick?

Nope.

Neat. It’s like … magic foil. She studied the larger piece, which was about the size of a postage stamp. It shone in the sunlight slanting through the curtains. Three symbols shimmered magenta and purple on the face. Beautiful colors. She studied the symbol in the middle. It reminded her of the suit of clubs on a playing card, which she’d always called puppy feet. Under each symbol were raised bumps, similar to Braille. She traced them with her fingers. Just because the foil was weird didn’t mean that little green men from Mars made it. How does your dad know this is alien?

Remember last Friday night during our Fourth of July barbecue when my dad got called to the airfield for special duty?

Yeah, and your mom got really annoyed.

Well, he and a bunch of others from his division were trucked out to clean up the crash site. He said it looked more like a delta wing than a disk. He said they also found—

Someone rapped at the front door. She cocked an ear and instantly recognized the voice as it drifted down the hallway. My mom’s here. If she sees me I’ll be double-grounded.

"I didn’t know you could get double-grounded."

Billy had never been grounded a day in his life, at least not until he’d met her. Believe me, you can. Climbing out the window, she skinned her belly on the catch. She dropped to the ground and landed on her bottom.

Her mother appeared in the window beside Billy, arms folded over her chest. Now march back home, young lady. You’re grounded for the rest of the week.

Kate looked at Billy. I told you.

Sorry, he mouthed.

It’s not your fault. I need to work on my landings. She stood, pressing some fingers to her sore belly.

Chapter 2

At Billy’s house, she sat at the dinner table with her head bowed. She was still grounded, but her mother had a night shift at the hospital on post. That meant Kate got to do a sleepover. The smell of roast chicken filled the air, and she peered through her bangs at Mrs. Thompson, who was saying grace. Kate was thankful for the food, but her thanks would go to the farmers.

Billy, who sat on her left, caught her eye—he was peeking, too. He flashed a cheeky grin and snuck a green bean into his mouth.

Amen, Mrs. Thompson said, echoed by Billy and Sergeant Thompson, a supply clerk for the 509th Bomber Group, who used to play golf with Kate’s father.

Mrs. Thompson drew her shoulders back. Kate, aren’t you going to say ‘amen’ to show the Lord you’re thankful?

Kate remained silent. She didn’t believe in God … not anymore.

Honey, I know how much you miss your father, and I understand.

No, she didn’t. Kate bit her lip. Mrs. Thompson’s father was alive and visited twice a year.

There was an awkward silence.

What did you kids do today? Sergeant Thompson helped himself to the mashed potatoes.

Everyone on the street’s talking about the flying disk! said Billy a bit too loudly. It’s in the paper anyway, so can you tell us more, Dad?

Did you really see an alien crash site? Kate said. What else did the army find?

Mrs. Thompson cleared her throat and gave her husband a not-in-front-of-the-children look.

Kate and Billy glanced at each other. Didn’t she know that kids could read newspapers, too? If they wanted the information, they could find it there. Or was it something else? Was the U.S. at war again? Had aliens invaded? Kate hoped Martians wouldn’t invade. She didn’t have time for that sort of thing, and it would ruin her summer vacation.

Last Halloween, when she’d spent time with Grandpa Clyde, they’d carved jack-o’-lanterns together. She’d even liked pulling out the stringy guts. After cleaning the pumpkin seeds, they’d roasted them. Some of her favorite days were the ones she spent with him. Later that night, they’d listened to the repeat of a play on the radio. It was an episode of The War of the Worlds. She remembered how real the news bulletins—about an invasion by Martians—had sounded and how much they’d frightened her. Thinking about the magic foil, she wondered if an alien invasion had happened for real, right here at home. Rubbing goose bumps from her arms, she pushed the scary thought from her mind. Billy’s laugh brought her back to the Thompsons’ dining room.

After picking over her food, she fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. Finally, the others had finished. Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Thompson, she said. May I be excused, please?

Honey, you didn’t eat enough. How do you expect to grow?

I’m full.

Mrs. Thompson shook her head and motioned her away.

Kate scraped the limp vegetables into the garbage and set her plate in the sink. As she wrapped a hair band around her high ponytail, her thoughts floated back to Sergeant Thompson and the flying disk. She waited until she caught Billy’s attention and pointed at the front door.

What? Billy raised his glass of milk.

She groaned. I’ll be out in the yard … making daisy chains. Want to come?

Nope.

I’ll show you where I found a four-leaf clover.

Billy drained his glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Mom, can I leave the table, please? She checked to see that he had cleaned his plate.

The second he stepped out onto the stoop, Kate grabbed his wrist and hurried him along the side of the house.

Where’s the four-lea—

There isn’t any.

Aw-jeez. Then where are we going?

Sneaking round to the back. She peeked around the corner. "Aren’t you curious about why your folks didn’t want to talk about the flying disk while we were there?"

You want to eavesdrop on my parents?

You’ve never picked up the telephone and listened in while other people on your party line talked?

Nope.

That’s how you get the best gossip. Mrs. Livingston is the worst, though. She pointed at the house next door. I catch her listening in on my conversations all the time.

But, what if we get caught?

I’m already grounded.

Swell. I’m not.

She shrugged and ducked along the back of the house until below the window, where she dropped onto her haunches.

—and I can’t believe they have it splashed all over the paper when they ordered us never to mention it to anyone, said Sergeant Thompson. They told us it was top secret.

It’s on the radio news, too, but I’ve heard nothing through the grapevine, though. Mrs. Thompson made it sound like she felt left out.

They mobilized several divisions as crash and retrieval teams, said Sergeant Thompson. "Our group was deployed to clean up the Ruidoso crash site. No, not clean … sanitize. They made