Page 1 of Midnight Oil

One

Quinn

Asmall plane buzzed so close overhead, I ducked my six foot frame out of instinct. The summer sun was just lifting in the sky but the Brackford Airport, a tiny airfield filled mostly with rich people's flying toys and flight instructor airplanes, was already vibrating with activity. I lumbered across the asphalt as I gulped back the last few sips of coffee. Trey's fire red Ferrari was parked by the building. Zane's Land Rover was next to it. It seemed everyone else had already arrived. I was going to hear it from my big brother for being late.

Chase looked up from the parachute he had just finished packing. "Look who finally showed up. Did you bring coffee for everyone?"

"Don't you rich guys havepeoplewho do that for you?" I crumpled the empty cup and tossed it across the room into the trash can. It did a nice bank shot off the wall before dropping in. "Still got it, even at the crack of dawn."

"Dawn cracked about an hour ago. Glad you finally dragged your ass out of bed, Sir Wets-his pants-a-lot." Trey quipped as he put his phone back into his pocket.

Zane laughed. "Even after hearing that nickname for the thousandth time, it still earns a chuckle."

"Two accidents in kindergarten," I complained. "I was fucking five years old and both times, Mom was late for work so I didn't have time to go to the bathroom. And my kindergarten teacher, the ferret faced Mrs. Turd Turner was angry from the second we trotted in with our smiles and our Ninja Turtle backpacks until we walked out, broken and sad from a day spent with Turd Turner. And, Trey, don't make me perform my Trey Armstrong meets the mall Santa face to face again." I grabbed my jumpsuit off the hook and sat down on the bench.

Zane shook his head. "That's right, you had Turd Turner. Chase and I were in sweet little Mrs. Jensen's class. She used to knit blankets for nap time."

"Remember those sugar cookies with the smiley faces she used to give us as we walked out if we were her special smarties for the day?" Chase asked.

"Sure do," Zane said. "I was the smartest kid so I walked out with a cookie every damn day."

Trey stared at him with wonder. "How the hell did the rest of us ever become friends with you and that bloated head?"

Zane shrugged. "Must have been my charisma."

Aidan tromped over, looking as big and gruff as a grizzly bear. He was holding a parachute container. "Since you were still getting your beauty sleep, I packed your chutes."

"Gee thanks, big guy." I reached for the pack, but he held it just out of reach.

"Not so fast. I haven't seen the performance." We were all big guys, even Zane, who was shorter but made it up in muscle. But Aidan was a giant. The parachute pack looked like a little kid's backpack in his big hand.

"What performance?" I asked. It was still too early and the coffee hadn't set in.

"Trey Armstrong meets mall Santa. I haven't seen it."

"Fuck, Aidan, yes you have," Trey groaned. "Just let the idiot get his gear on. The pilot just texted that we're taking off in ten minutes."

Aidan ignored my brother and stared down at me with an expression that said no performance, no parachute.

"Actually, I'd like to see it too," Zane said. "I've witnessed it on several occasions, but just like the Sir Wets-his-pants-a-lot nickname, it never gets old."

I put the jumpsuit on the bench and stood up. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up and put my hands in my jean pockets, a perfect imitation of an eight-year-old Trey trying to look badass. "Hey, Quinn, I'm going to ask Santa for one of those remote control army tanks." I stepped forward as if I was moving ahead in line. "Nah, I think I'm going to ask him for that Halo game since Mom said she won't buy it for us." I stepped forward again. "On second thought, I want one of those rad scooters that lets you go like a hundred miles an hour down the sidewalk." The entire room was silent. I had everyone's rapt attention, except for Trey's. He had picked up his phone. In his defense, he knew how it ended. I stepped forward again. "Quinn, we're almost at the front of the line. Maybe I'll ask for a new skateboard. The one I have sucks." I stepped forward again. I popped my eyes wide and froze for a good ten seconds before spinning around and screaming, "Mom, Mom!"

Aidan's laugh vibrated the windows on the room. "Ah shit," he said when he caught his breath. "I'd heard about the mall Santa scene, but it's much better to see it in live action." He turned back to my brother, who was still swiping through his phone. "That there, is an Armstrong brother classic."

"Fuck you, Bigfoot." Trey finally lowered his phone. "The guy had a nose that looked like a red head of cauliflower and his eyes were bloodshot. Not exactly the picture I had of Santa in my head."

Chase picked up his parachute pack. "I had an uncle with bloodshot eyes and a cauliflower nose. He kept bottles of whiskey hidden all over the house. Well, did we come here to skydive or to reminisce about kindergarten and Santa Claus cuz I didn't leave Macy and my warm, cozy bed just to hear about the Armstrong boys peeing pants and crying for Mommy."

I sat back on the bench to pull on my jumpsuit.

Aidan dropped my pack in front of me. "You're welcome," he said curtly.

"Thanks, bro." I pushed off my shoes.

"Sure thing. Hope I did it right. You know how I am about following directions." He smiled smugly at me.

"That's all right," Trey said. "Since he's been working at that medieval joust dinner theater, my brother has learned how to fall without knocking out the little bit of sense he has left."

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