Maybe some things do change, Tony told herself. She stayed on the edge of the small crowd, watching the road and considering how she was going to get Miss Coleman’s attention without a crowd of truant schoolboys following her like gnats.
“Hey, here they come!” yelled one of the boys, pointing at a dust cloud rising in the near distance.
The car pulled up in front of the new frame building, and the driver got out. Tony recognized the handsome young man in the dark business suit as Bessie’s chaperone, John Betsch, who’d invited Tony to come along today. A white man emerged from the backseat, wearing a leather flying jacket and carrying a satchel made out of a flour sack. He got to the front passenger door before Betsch and opened it, and out stepped the woman flyer herself — Brave Bess, Queen Bess, queen of the air, queen of the sky. Bessie Coleman was little and pretty and official-looking in her jodhpurs, every inch a modern woman.
John Betsch took a moment to survey the crowd. Then he shouted, “Hey there, Tony!”
He’d recognized her. Thank goodness Tony had been bold enough to go up to him and shake his hand after the school lecture! She’d told him about the Physics Club. She and Betsch had talked about Miss Coleman’s moving-picture projector, making guesses about how it worked while Miss Coleman rewound the reels.
Tony’s mother always did say You make your own luck.
“It is Tony, right?” Betsch called. “Short for Antonia?”
“Yes. Hello!” Tony waved the cardboard notebook as a greeting, feeling her cheeks flushing again. Now the kids were gaping at her; she knew that if she crossed the street uninvited they’d be sure to follow, and then the cop would shoo her away with the rest of them. She held her breath. At least she’d gotten Betsch’s attention.
“Come say hi,” Betsch invited. “Miss Coleman was sorry she didn’t get to meet you yesterday.” He turned to the white policeman, who stood barricading the famous woman from the other spectators. “Okay if Tony joins us, Officer?” he asked politely, tipping his hat.
Antonia, miraculously, was allowed across the street.
“Hi, Tony,” Bessie said to her warmly. “Great timing! Can you stick around after the test flight? Mr. Betsch said you have questions for me.” Bessie glanced at the notebook in Tony’s hand. “How about I give you an autograph now, in case you have to leave for school before I’m back on the ground?”
“I — sure!” Tony flipped the notebook open against the warm hood of the car. Miss Coleman laughed when she saw the clippings.
“It’s all about me!” she said with pleasure. With her round face and petite features radiating delight, she seemed almost younger than Tony.
Tony laughed. “The questions I’ve got for you are about your plane’s flight characteristics,” she said. “Not about you.”
“Well, I’ll know more about that after the flight! Stick around. This plane’s just come from Texas, and I’ve only flown it once before. It’s not new, but it is going to be the first of my fleet,” Bessie Coleman boasted. “I already put in an order for three more. Maybe you’ll come learn to fly with me when I get that flight school open!”
She paused a moment, scanning the Physics Club list of questions about aerodynamics. Her youthful expression grew suddenly shrewder. “You and your friends have pretty good heads on your shoulders!” she said. Then she took Tony’s pen and wrote in a firm, clear, confident script on the blank page right opposite the list. After a moment she lifted the pen and read aloud, as though she was pleased with what she’d written: “‘To My Dear Admirer Antonia. Only you can make your dreams come true. Always reach for the sky and soon it’ll be time for you to take flight. Your friend, Bessie Coleman.’”
She handed the pen back and patted the notebook. “Hey, Bill, come take a look. These kids aren’t just autograph hunters — they’re serious about aerodynamics! Tony, meet my mechanic, William Wills.”
The white man in the leather flying jacket put down his satchel and offered Tony his hand. She took it, surprised, and he shook hands with her very briefly. He didn’t smile, but he bent over the page of questions and scanned them briefly.
“Bill Wills brought my new plane here from Love Field in Dallas a couple of days ago,” Bessie said.
“And it wasn’t easy,” Wills said. “Wait till I give them a piece of my mind back at Love Field — they’re going to get a reputation for just being a junkyard for old army flying machines! I had so many mechanical problems on the way, I had to make two unscheduled landings. Took me a whole day to fly here.” He glanced up at Miss Coleman. “You want to treat this baby gently when you fly her. I feel like I’m just getting to know her tricks!”