Aviation
Everyone is a little afraid of Hank's room. It has gone beyond its original stacks of books and photocopied articles and now contains an elaborate device that Hank claims will be a self-propelled light airplane. Scott tries not to say things like you don't know how to build an airplane and you don't know how to fly an airplane and what in the hell, Hank , because he is aware that saying things like that does not make him popular.
Warren is not helping, which is to say that he is helping, even letting Hank take precise measurements of his wings while he holds them stiffly out along the wall, looking like the model for some classical tale that probably does not end well. "You don't know how to fly an airplane either," Scott mutters under his breath, but he doesn't say it out loud. Hank sketches madly while Warren examines the construction so far. "Please don't touch that," Hank says without looking up. "It might explode." Scott hopes that's a joke, but it's always hard to be sure.
Scott has considered telling Professor Xavier before anyone dies in a horrific fiery plane crash, but that would really not make him popular, and anyway surely the Professor has noticed the construction of what looks like the offspring of a bicycle and an alien spaceship. He is a telepath, after all. Scott defiantly allows himself to think disapproving thoughts about airplanes at the breakfast table. Professor Xavier's only response is to ask Scott to please pass the milk.
He tries experimentally to raise the subject with Jean; she is a girl, after all, and is probably therefore by definition a restraining influence.
"No, I will not help you work on the Millenium Falcon, or whatever that thing is supposed to be," Jean says. She considers. "Although if you figure out faster than light travel, I think Professor Xavier will want to know."
"I wasn't really asking you to ..." Scott says.
"That figures," Jean says, and raises her book again.
Scott gets an unfortunate sinking feeling the next time Professor Xavier goes out for the evening, which is only made worse by the gleam in Hank and Warren's eyes.
"Clearly it is time to test the prototype," Hank says.
"Professor Xavier said ..." Scott begins, but no one is listening to him.
He trails out onto the back lawn behind Hank and Warren, who are carrying a Thing. It is roughly airplane-shaped, or would be in a world where airplanes had fins and hypnotically whirring wheels spinning within other wheels.
"It has gyroscopic stabilizers," Warren says.
"Uh-huh," Jean says skeptically. "Did you guys actually, like, read any books about airplanes?"
"Hundreds," Hank says. "I can assure you your skepticism is unfounded."
"Should I just call 911 now so they can get a head start?" Scott asks, but still no one is listening to him. Sometimes he wonders why it is that he seems to be in a small, quiet bubble that his sense of realistic consequences cannot penetrate.
"It would probably be advisable to stand back," Hank says. Jean retreats to the back steps of the mansion. Scott starts to do the same, and then hesitates. His sense of responsibility seems to be winning a painful battle with his better judgment.
"I have at least been in a small plane," he says. "A long time ago. And I don't like -- but if you're really going to -- I just feel that I'm slightly less likely to actually die testing this thing than you are." He finishes in a rush, before he can really think about what he's offering to do.
"That's very generous of you, Scott," Hank says, "but I really think an unmanned trial would be best for our first attempt. There is a certain instability in the fuel containment area ..."
"It might explode," Warren says.
Jean looks up at Scott. "They're joking about it exploding, right?"
"Sure," Warren says. "It'll be fine." He beats his wings hard and launches himself into the air, soaring in a lazy circle over the lawn. "I'll just watch from up here."
Scott stays where he is, feeling that to retreat any further would not look good to Jean, and that to get any closer would be suicidal. Hank does mysterious things to mysterious switches. There is a hum like an overwrought blender.
Then the plane launches itself from the ground, wobbling dangerously at first and then gliding into a high, wide circle above the treetops. Warren lets out a whoop of triumph and follows it, gliding with his wings set. The fins (not really aluminum foil, surely?) catch the late-afternoon sun.
"It's really kind of pretty, don't you think?" Jean says, and Scott has to admit that it is. He is beginning to feel the first stirrings of reluctant curiousity about how the thing would handle in the air. He wonders if Hank will let him look at his calculations about speed and lift after the way he's acted about this --
But of course Hank will, Hank is Hank , and Scott is beginning to brace himself to frame an apology when the plane dips one wing abruptly, makes a veering, suicidal turn, and crashes into an oak tree. There is a moment of general silence, broken when the tree dramatically catches fire.
"I have a fire extinguisher," Scott says. He picks it up from where it's been sitting unnoticed by the back steps and hands it to Hank.
"Thank you, Scott," Hank says politely. He turns the fire extinguisher on the tree, bathing it and the wreckage of the plane in white foam.
Warren lands after the fire is more or less extinguished.
"Thanks for helping," Scott says.
"How could I have helped?" Warren asks.
"Well ..."
"Perhaps our test was premature," Hank says.
"You think?"
"Professor Xavier is going to give you all detention for the rest of your lives," Jean says, looking like she is barely repressing the urge to smile at the thought. She nudges a piece of metal with her foot. It steams.
"You were here too," Scott says.
"Yes, but it wasn't my ..."
"We're all in this together," Scott says. He scrubs at his hair, which he suspects is damp with sticky foam. "Do you want to help get this cleaned up before the Professor gets home, or do you want to help explain how this happened?"
"Well, when you put it that way," Jean says.
By the time Professor Xavier gets home, they have more or less restored order; the tree is still dramatically blackened, but Scott thinks it may be possible to explain that as the result of some kind of more minor catastrophe. Anyway, it's dark outside.
Warren is doing his math homework, although Scott doesn't see how he can at a time like this. Jean is playing chess with Hank, who looks depressed. Scott is pretending to read a book.
Professor Xavier stops in the doorway of the library and looks in on them. "You seem to be having a quiet evening."
Jean makes a tiny, strangled noise. Hank coughs to cover it.
"We're fine," Scott says.
"I'm glad to hear it," Professor Xavier says. "Don't do it again."
Scott is tempted to say "Do what?", but that seems like pushing his luck. "We won't," he says instead.
"I'm glad to hear that, too."
After the Professor leaves, Jean turns a chess piece around thoughtfully in her fingers. "Do you think he actually knows what we did, or do we just look guilty?"
"I always assume he knows everything," Scott says.
"That's why you worry so much," Warren says.
Scott thinks about pointing out all the reasons why he worries so much, starting with the fact that his friends mostly appear to be insane. He takes a deep breath instead.
"It almost worked," he says, and watches Hank and Warren both visibly brighten. Jean meets his eyes, just for a second, and smiles.