mechanically gifted of children, Ivan concluded. But there was a good breeze this morning, so it wouldn't be as oppressively hot out in the back yard as it had been yesterday. The forecast was thunderstorms late in the afternoon, and then clear again - hot and muggy, in fact - for the Fourth. Today, though, there was a breeze, and that called for a kite.
Katerina has never seen a kite, Ivan realized. They were a Chinese invention and they didn't come to Europe until... well, until later. Before Benjamin Franklin, but after Baba Yaga. So much for my future as a historian.
The boy across the street - what was his name? Terrel Sprewel. Never Terry, just Terrel, even though the name Terrel was clearly invented as a back-formation to allow the nickname Terry without saddling the kid with a really geeky name like Terence. Though you might as well tape a kick-me sign on your baby as to give him a name that was not only weird but rhymed.
Terrel used to try to follow Ivan, back when Ivan was in middle school and he ran through the neighborhood instead of around the lake. Back when it was still faintly ridiculous in the neighbors' eyes that a Jewish kid should be jogging. Terrel was a toddler then, and Ivan had to stop and make him go back. What's he doing in the front yard without a parent watching him, anyway? Once he had to take Terrel to the front door, the kid was so persistent, and his mom acted as if Ivan had somehow committed a crime by suggesting that she ought to prevent the child from following Ivan on his five-mile run. Maybe she thought I should take him along. Maybe she wished. That would be sad, to grow up with a mother who kind of hoped you'd run away.
Maybe you'd end up all by yourself, trying to get a string tied onto a kite so it has some hope of flying.
Ivan's impulse was to cross the street and lend a hand, show the kid how it was done.
Then he remembered - it wasn't safe for him to cross the street by himself. Who's the toddler now?
The string was tied. It wasn't in exactly the right place, but it would probably do. Terrel carried the kite to the end of the block before he started his run. Ivan wondered why he would do that. Why not start running from his own front yard? The answer was obvious, though. Terrel wanted to get the kite flying just as he reached his yard, so he could stand there in front of the windows with the kite in the air where his parents could look out and see him. Maybe they were better parents than Ivan thought. Maybe they would be looking. But he thought not. They never watched. Terrel was always alone. No applause. And yet it still mattered to the kid. He was still hungry to have his mom or dad tell him he did OK, or even watch him without a word, just to have their eyes see that he could get a kite up into the air.
Ivan practically willed it up. Run faster, he thought. Let out more string as you go. Let it catch. Rise up! Faster now! Good, it's working. It's caught! Let the string bleed out now, a little more.
He wasn't doing it. He was keeping the kite on too short a tether. It was going to fall.
"Let out more string!" Ivan called.
Terrel didn't even look over. He just obeyed. The string spun out; the kite staggered a moment, but the breeze caught it, carried it up. Terrel stood there, letting out a little more. A little more. Only when the kite was definitely up there, quite high, did Terrel look over at Ivan and grin.
It wasn't his parents he wanted to have watch him. It was me.
"Good job!" cried Ivan. "First try."
Terrel held up the string in his hand, offering Ivan the control of the kite. Ivan waved it back. "You're the kite-flyer, Terrel. It's all yours!" Then Ivan pointedly turned to look up into the sky, watching the kite, so Terrel wouldn't try to insist.
I can't go to your side of the street, Terrel, or the witch will get me.
The gusty wind was making the kite dance. Ivan wondered what it would be like, to be up there himself, in a hang glider, for instance, and catch one of those downdrafts. Drop like a