Welcome to part 3 of my Owl City fanfic! In the last part, Ben and Arden bought a parachute from a church rummage sale. Let’s see what they’re up to this week.
“Arden, shouldn’t we ask your mom first?” I protested.
“Naw! She won’t mind,” she called as she darted into a darkened doorway, and came back out, a small sewing machine in hand. “We have to find the perfect material to patch it!” She ran back in. I shook my head, unable to believe any one human being could have this much energy. I had decided Arden wasn’t normal. Maybe she wasn’t even human?
“This material is soooooo cute!” Out came Arden again carrying two bolts of material, navy and red. “I’m soooo going to make something out of this!” she cried, flinging the material on the table. “You know, Mom has this super cool pattern,” Arden turned toward the room again and plunged back in. Still wondering about her native planet, I turned my attention back to her, when reemerging from the room, she tossed me an envelope.
“See?” she instructed, grabbing it back out of my hands. Taking out its contents and laying the pieces across the navy and red material, she continued, “It’s like a picture made out of fabric. This pattern is called,” she squinted at the fine print, “’The Day above L.A.’” She shrugged, and grabbed a pair of scissors near her. “Come on, wanna help?
An hour and miles of thread later, a mean sewing machine had nearly eaten my finger, and “The Day above L.A.” was almost finished. “The stitch we have to use to finish this off looks like a race track” Her eyes lit up with an excited gleam I had seen too many times today. “Hang on!”
I sighed, “Arden. Please. No more ideas!”
“Sew this edge right here,” she grinned happily. “I want to check on something!”
I shook my head, and carefully following the guideline plate like Arden had shown me, I fed the last edge through the machine. Inspecting the threads methodically, I clipped the extras, sat the work down, and waited for Arden to return. Without Arden in the room, it was very quiet. I started looking around, unused to this inactivity. Maybe she got beamed back to her home world.
“Racetrack.” The silence was broken. “I got this set for my birthday, and I’ve been wanting to use it,” she proclaimed as she dumped the pieces on the floor. I winced as a multitude of plastic parts loudly clattered onto the tile and scattered around the room. I really hoped we would be able to find all those pieces. Arden plopped down in the middle of the chaos and patted the floor next to her. Sighing, I pushed some pieces out of the way and joined her on the floor. For a while we worked together, connecting the track and winding the pieces under and around her mom’s kitchen chairs.
“We should take it around this chair next,” she pointed to one of the chairs at the far edge of the table.
“Are you sure?” I glanced over the pieces of the little world we were building. “We’re almost out. How about we not build all the way over there?” I suggested.
Arden rejected my idea. “There are some more pieces in the basement!” She jumped up, grabbed my hand, and, for what seemed like the hundredth time, dragged me along with her. She skidded to a halt in front of the basement stairs and half-hid behind me. “It’s dark. And the shadows could hurt us!” Holding an imaginary sword, she fenced with the darkness, “Back evil monsters!” She grinned at me, “I’m trying to convince my mom to let me take fencing.”
“I see,” I said, grateful her mom had so far said no to fencing lessons.
“Boy, it’s dark. Hmmm, I didn’t bring a flashlight, did you?”
She dug her cell phone out of her pocket and lit up the screen. We descended the steep, dark staircase and stopped once we reached the bottom. Arden turned her cell phone light to the left, and in front of us sat an old gas lantern on a table. She grabbed it and shook it slightly. It made a sloshing sound. She gestured towards the matches sitting next to where the lantern had been.
Obediently, I lit a match and let it catch to light up the room. Blinking in the sudden bright light, I heard Arden yell, “It’s an old, maroon hot air balloon!”
I beheld the balloon. Truly, it was an old, maroon hot air balloon. Suddenly, an idea dawned on me. Maybe we could spend the afternoon in this cold hot air balloon. “We should totally use this!” Arden’s enthusiasm had finally rubbed off on me.
Arden jumped up and down, clapping with excitement. She grabbed an edge of the balloon and started to pull it toward the stairs. “My dad once mentioned that he had one of these.”
I helped her pull it up the basement stairs. “How do we fill it?” I puffed. Hot air balloons were heavy.
She grinned, “My dad has an air balloon filler machine in the garage.”
I didn’t even ask why or how her dad had one of these machines. I supposed nothing was impossible seeing that we had just found a hot air balloon in her basement. It took us about 2 ½ hours to drag the balloon around, hook it up, figure the thing out, and pump it full of gas. It was a small balloon, luckily. Just big enough for two.
Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the final part next week!