Page 18 of Flyboy

Ivy bristled, but she didn’t say anything. “What are the classroom hours?”

“We’ll start at 0800 until we’re finished for the day.”

Ivy waited.

“Let’s just call it early afternoon. Does that work?” His expression turned stubborn, and Ivy didn’t want to push things. “That’s great.”

They finished their meal in a more subdued tone. When Fatima came in with the dessert, what looked like dulce de leche or caramel flan, Fatima looked around at the quiet room and clucked her tongue, but she just set their plates in front of them and left, mumbling under her breath.

The restof the evening continued with Ivy trying to avoid Colton, and him looking at her with a guarded expression. Omar spent the rest of the day joking around with the staff. When the back pasture turned into a soccer field, Ivy slipped on her shoes to join them.

As she approached, the guys called out, but Omar shook his head. “I’d bet Tenderfoot here is a mean football player. Or at least a fierce competitor.” He winked at her.

“Does anyone mind if I play?”

The others smiled, most of them goofy, joking expressions, and then she joined Omar’s team.

The first time the ball came toward her, and she moved to pass it on, she knew she was playing against men who’d had a ball passing around between their feet since they could walk. They were fast, comfortable, and used tricks she never knew existed. But she laughed with them every time they stole the ball as though she’d passed it right in front of them. They were good-natured about the two Americans who were so obviously outmatched.

Ivy knew the moment Colton stepped out of the door. He came to stand at the side of their game, and her skin tingled with awareness. She cursed that awareness. After watching for a moment, he called out. “Anyone want to try their hand at American football?”

Omar’s grin started small and grew. He shrugged. “Maybe. They’ll probably whoop us at that too.” He kicked at the dirt.

And Ivy almost laughed. What were they up to? “I’m in.” She raised a hand. “Wait, are we tackling?”

“Nah, let’s just play touch.” Colton held up a football. “You guys want to give it a go?”

They divided up teams again, and pretty soon the game became the Omar and Colton show. The cool evening air helped, but everyone was sweating and running hard. Soon all shirts were off, and Ivy’s tank top was soaked through. She huddled with the guys. She and Omar were against Colton, but they had some really fast guys on their team. Omar nodded to Rogerio. “You’ve got this. You go left, fast, hard, all the way to the end. They can’t catch you.”

“Igiermo can catch me.” Rogerio pointed to the other scraggly looking skinny guy on the opposite team.

“I’ll take care of Igiermo.” Omar cracked his knuckles, and the guys laughed. He put his hand in the center of their huddle. “On three.” They chanted. “Win.”

Ivy was determined to win. Colton looked too satisfied over there, beating these Brazilians at his own game when he couldn’t win at theirs. It bugged her. She told herself it was all about cultural rights, but she knew it was really about beating Colton at something. She bent her knees and watched the ball. It went to Rogerio as planned, but she ran alongside him, off to the side, mostly ignored as Omar blocked Igiermo. Then Colton went for Rogerio. Ivy saw him coming before Rogerio noticed.

“Aqui! Over here,” she called in Portuguese. Rogerio looked at her in surprise, noticed Colton bearing down on him, and then tossed her the ball.

She snatched it, hugged it to her chest, and ran the rest of the way to the goal line without a problem.

Her team gathered around her and lifted her up on their shoulders. She yelped and steadied herself, laughing.

“Ivy! Ivy! Ivy!” they chanted. All these happy faces looking up into her own lifted some of her irritation. Was it really worth being so mad at Colton? She returned his smile and then held her hands high in the air in a large victory V.

The next morning,they rode together in Fatima’s old truck. One of the stable hands drove them. Ivy sat in the back, wedged between the broad shoulders and thick legs of Colton and Omar. She leaned forward for a little wiggle room. At her feet was her work satchel. She concentrated on the clipboard inside, her morning assignments, and the profiles of the pilots they were to work with today.

“I think we need to watch Fernando.”

“I agree. I put Omar on him.”

Ivy thought that a terrible idea, but she just hummed. Omar was the hot head that Fernando was reported to be. Would they egg each other on? Or butt heads? “I’d like to train the women.”

“As part of the larger group.” Colton nodded.

“Fine. I think I’ll take them to lunch, then.” There were five. And from Ivy’s experience, it was always better when the women stuck together.

They arrived at the hangar. It was surprisingly clean and new looking, standing out against the charm of the older stone and stucco homes. It sat on the edge of the ocean, the waves crashing wildly onshore in the wind, the deep blue with stark white caps looking more magnificent than inviting.

They parked and walked to the other side, away from the ocean toward what looked to be the door on a nondescript building. Land surrounded the structure, and an airstrip with a control tower marked the place as friendly to planes. Otherwise, Ivy would have thought it an unremarkable warehouse.

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