Friday July 3, 1908

Amelia couldn't help herself as she fidgeting in the stiffly starched dress she had been forced into this morning while her mother yanked rags out of her snarled hair and attempted to tame it. There was nothing fun about getting dressed up in fancy clothes and pinchy shoes in the middle summer; not even if it meant meeting a real pilot.

"Sit still Amelia," her mother admonished gently, laying a hand gently on her daughter's shoulder and pausing her brushing, "I'm almost done honey."

Amelia looked at her mother's calm face in the mirror and nodded slightly, taking a deep breath as she tried to imagine she was somewhere.

"How's she coming, Amy?" Edwin called, walking into the room as he closed his gold cufflinks and smiling at the pair.

Amy smiled at him while Amelia stood up from the chair and turned around to face her father, "She's pretty as a picture."

Amelia was the picture of childhood grace, her long blonde hair curled into ringlets, and a light blue dress that came down past her knees, meeting bright wide socks that melted into shiny black shoes.

Edwin was dressed in his usual work attire, but his suit was pressed a little tighter, back a little straighter.

"I don't expect us to take too terribly long darling," Edwin said as he held his arm out from Amelia, "why don't you and Pidge spend the morning together and we'll meet back here around noon? It's going to be a scorcher today."

"That sounds lovely," Amy agreed, habitually straightening Edwin's collar and pulling some of Amelia's hair in front of her shoulders. "And that will make you look even more grown up," Amy kissed her daughter's forehead.

She watched her husband and eldest daughter walk across the dry lawn of the townhouse they were staying at, both their shoulder's held rigid. For Edwin, that was normal when he was walking into a business meeting. For Amelia, that meant she was planning something, and lord help anyone who got in her way. Amy smiled to herself as she closed the door and turned around to see her youngest daughter running down the hallway towards the unguarded kitchen. She laughed.

Edwin patted Amelia's hand as they walked through the center of the fair, ignoring venders as they tried to sell them things early in the day, "You know to let me do the talking?"

"Yes father." Amelia swallowed heavily, working to control her breathing.

"Something wrong dear?" Edwin asked with a smile on his face, the faintest trace of concern under his voice."

She gritted her teeth, "No, I'm just not looking forward to looking at some silly ole plane father."

Edwin smirked, "Coming to your senses are we? Don't worry dear," he declared, "I'll handle everything."

I bet you will, Amelia thought nastily as they approached the site on the map of where the plane and the pilot were to be located.

Showtime.

Alfred was standing with his back to the approaching pair, running his hand over the top wing on his biplane. The plane had been moved from its location behind the trees to a space in front of them but off to the side of their camp. The trees were cleared of the hammocks and rain catchers that had been there yesterday and the woodpile had been redone into a neat, orderly fashion. No holes dotted the body of the plane, and Amelia wondered how late the boys had stayed up to fix all of them as nicely as they'd been done. Alfred was wearing a clean and pressed red and blue plaid shirt with dark pants, his head turned as he talked to Matthew. Matthew, who was wearing his own pressed plaid shirt, red and white, was leaning up against one of the trees with his arms crossed.

Arthur was wearing fitted dress clothes that were much too hot for the day that was brewing. He spotted the pair as they walked up to the site and a confused look settled on his face.

"Good morning!" Edwin called with his hand raised, "how are you gentlemen today?"

Arthur took Edwin's hand with a polite smile, "Very well thank you; and you?"

"Just dandy," Edwin replied, "I didn't realize that the contest manager was an Englishman. That does explain the contest farther though."

Matthew stepped forward with a polite smile, offering his hand to cover up that Arthur had no idea what Edwin was talking about, "Hello sir, did I hear you say you were here because of the contest?"

"Yes, sir, Edwin Earhart at your service."

"Matthew Williams at yours," he replied politely, "and who is this charming young lady?" He turned to Amelia and winked.

Alfred spoke up as he held his hand out to Amelia slowly, "Amelia Earhart I presume?"

Amelia shook her head as she took Alfred's hot hand.

Edwin wrapped an arm around her shoulders firmly, "she finished second place. What can I say, she's got a gift."

"I'd say so," Alfred commented, eyes flickering between the pair, "Say, why don't I show you around the old girl?"

"Sure."

"-she's always had a knack for boy things, math and science and the like. No no, the missus and I haven't seen a reason to dissuade her. That'll be her husband's job someday," Edwin rambled to Arthur, who listened with a patronizing look on his face.

Alfred and Amelia walked around behind the plane, out of view of her father. Alfred checked several times to make sure Arthur was taking up all of his attention. He rounded on Amelia and stared down at her, "you should have told me," he muttered sternly, "we all would have played along ya know."

She shook her head, "that's not necessary, I have it under control," her eyes flashed as they locked with Alfred's, "And I didn't know. How could I possibly know?"

"Hey," Alfred protested, bending down and grabbing both of Amelia's shoulders, "where's the confident and fun gal I met yesterday, because I want her back. I don't like hiding and sneaky Amelia."

"She's hiding from her father," Amelia whispered, "and she's going to be found out soon."

Amelia watched several emotions filter across Alfred's face, confusion, sadness, but the only one that reached his blue eyes was understanding, and Amelia thought momentarily she loved him for it.

Alfred licked his lips, not breaking eye contact with Amelia, but he bent at his knees so he was actually eye level with her now, "Mattie didn't make that story up yesterday," he explained softly, "the one about paint and the army chasing me home? I didn't get along with my dad at all. It got to be pretty ridiculous towards the end." He watched as Amelia hung on every word, her eyes searching his, and her mouth opened slightly as she breathed through it in her excitement. "I just wanted him to acknowledge me when I'd done something amazing, but he never did."

"What did you do?" she asked with bated breath, "what was so amazing he couldn't understand?"

Alfred smiled gently and brushed all her hair behind her shoulders, "I was offered a full scholarship to Harvard to study my major of choice. He didn't approve of my major."

She gasped and bit her bottom lip, "how mad?"

"I moved out within the week."

"What was your major Alfred?" she asked carefully, trying to tread the line between honest curiosity and morbid curiosity, "what could have been so bad?"

Alfred smirked, "I majored in American History. I'm currently the leading expert in Washington on it. He wanted me to go to Oxford and major in British History. He moved here from England was he was 14 or so."

Amelia shook her head and rolled her eyes, "that was ridiculous of him."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I mean, I'm sorry you had to go through that Alfred."

Snorting, Alfred shook his head, "I learned several lessons from it, so there was some gain I suppose. One of them I'm giving to you now, so listen up. If you wait for someone to see that you're trying, they are never going to notice unless you spell it out for them letter by letter," Alfred lectured a sly grin on his face, "or you do something dramatic. Very dramatic."

"Are you suggesting we spell it out for my father?" Amelia sneered, eyebrow raised.

"Nope," Alfred said loudly, standing up straight and looking over the plane at Mattie, "your situation is like mine, it requires something dramatic."

Amelia smiled, "Alfred and Amelia off to terrorize the world, one crazy father at a time, right?"

Alfred clapped a hand on her shoulder, "don't tempt me, or I might take you to work with me some day. There are a lot of crazy old guys up there who need some terrorizing."

"Just write me a note for school," Amelia joked, "have the President sign it."

"He's on the list," remarked Alfred lightly, enjoying the incredulous look on Amelia's face, "Ready?"

She nodded and followed Alfred around the plane and back over to where her father was boring Arthur and Matthew.

"Mr. Earhart," Alfred began, holding his hand out, "So sorry for not introducing myself properly earlier, I'm Alfred Jones, pilot of the plane."

Edwin took his hand firmly, "Pleased to meet you. I'm sure Amelia wasn't too overbearing? She can get excited."

Alfred shook his head, not dropping Edwin's hand, "she was a perfect lady. Earhart was the last name?"

"Yes." Edwin squeezed Alfred's hand tighter, "Why."

"Oh, no reason in particular," Alfred stated, staring at Edwin he too squeezed their hands, "I recognized the name from my studies. I never thought I'd actually have the genuine pleasure or meeting a descendant of a man primarily responsible for the revolution."

Arthur's eyes flashed as he made the connection in his own head.

You're going to break his hand, Matthew thought as he stared at the back of Alfred's head and his normal colored hand wrapped around Edwin's pale white one.

I wish, Alfred thought back, tilting his head to the side, what an interesting color.

Edwin released Alfred's hand and glanced at the sky, which was rapidly filling with angry black thunderheads, "Well I'm sure you of all people can understand why many people wouldn't understand that aspect of my family tree. I should take my leave; you fellows need to build shelter."

Alfred nodded, sliding his hand into his pocket, "Yeah, it's hard to admit you're related to a flaming asshole responsible for the current state of the world. And don't worry about the rain, we won't melt."

"Alfred Jones!" Arthur snapped as thunder boomed overhead, "How dare you insult a guest?"

"That's our que Amelia," Edwin said, looking at the sky, "gentlemen, I thank you for your time today."

"Thank you Alfred, Matthew," she looked at Arthur, "Mr. Eyebrows."

Arthur sputtered as they walked away, "what the hell is wrong with all you people!"

Matthew looked at the sky and pulled Arthur's elbow, "we'll explain while we work, I don't feel like sleeping in mud tonight."

"I wasn't aware that second place winners got anything in contests," Arthur remarked as he quickly tied the knots to the trees, "or is that an American thing?"

"First place was a control," Matthew explained carefully, "Alfred and I turned it in."

Arthur blinked at the pair of them, who looked at him guilty, "that girl should have had first place?"

Alfred nodded, "her father's mad she didn't win first, when it wasn't even possible for her too."

"She acted like a twit…" Arthur started.

"Because Alfred and I skewed the results," Matthew finished, "and her father doesn't do second place."

Arthur slid into his hammock as rain drop started to pitter patter on the tarp over his head, "well that doesn't make it much better."

"But it makes it understandable," Alfred remarked defensively, crawling into his hammock and pulling a blanket over his head.

Matthew rolled his eyes and mouthed, "cradle robber," at Arthur, who chuckled.