Chapter Five: Planes, Partners, and Probability
Ryan Marquez did not expect his Saturday morning to begin with a rubber-band-powered airplane smacking him square in the forehead.
"Ow."
From the other side of the street, Phil Dunphy called out, "Sorry, buddy! That one had too much torque!"
"Or not enough direction," Ryan muttered, rubbing his head.
Jay and Phil were in the Dunphys' front yard, surrounded by balsa wood, measuring tape, duct tape, and a pile of poorly folded instructions. Cam and Mitchell sat on folding chairs sipping iced tea, watching the spectacle with increasing concern.
Ryan was used to chaos in the neighborhood. But this?
This was next-level suburban absurdity.
"Why are they doing this again?" he asked Alex, who stood beside him holding a binder labeled "Project: No Idiots Allowed."
"It's their bonding thing," she sighed. "Jay used to fly model planes when he was younger. Phil's trying to prove he's 'handy' by building one with him."
"And?"
"They've been at it for three hours and successfully built half a wing. Upside-down."
Ryan squinted at the crooked frame. "That's… impressive in its own disastrous way."
"Welcome to my life."
He smirked, then turned back toward his house. "You want to come over and escape this mess? I've got cold brew and a half-finished robot hand."
"Is that a euphemism?"
"Nope. Just nerdy honesty."
She considered it, then shrugged. "Sure. But if your robot grabs my soda again, I'm unplugging it."
"It learned consent after last time."
They walked together to the Marquez house, chatting about school, which teachers were barely qualified, and why cafeteria pizza should be declared a health hazard. Inside Ryan's room, Alex scanned the setup with amusement. His workstation was tidier than usual, with color-coded drawers and labeled tools.
"Did you organize this because I was coming over?"
"No," he lied smoothly. "Okay, yes. A little."
She smirked and sat cross-legged on the floor while he powered on a small console.
"So what's this hand thing?"
Ryan held up a 3D-printed palm attached to a base with wires and tiny servos. "It's a gesture-responsive controller for a prosthetic project. Eventually, it'll mimic movement using sensors from your own muscles."
Alex raised a brow. "And you're building that… because?"
"Because I can. And because the school's science fair is six months away and I enjoy setting unrealistic expectations."
She shook her head. "You're seriously impossible."
"Yet you're here."
They shared a quiet look, and for a moment, Ryan felt the air shift—not in a dramatic, rom-com kind of way, but something subtle. Comfortable.
He liked that about her. She didn't treat him like a spectacle. She called out his overengineering, matched his sarcasm, and understood his blueprints before he even explained them.
She was his equal. In brains, in humor… and maybe—just maybe—something more.
Outside, a loud crack echoed across the street, followed by Phil yelling, "The wing's not supposed to bend like that!"
They both turned to the window.
"You want to go rescue them?" Alex asked.
Ryan sighed. "Only if we bring safety goggles and emotional support granola bars."
Down the street, the Marquez and Dunphy families gathered for a last-ditch attempt to launch their latest creation: a full-sized model airplane powered by rubber bands and Phil's eternal optimism.
Jay grunted while holding the tail end. "This isn't how I used to do it."
Phil grinned. "But it's how we're doing it!"
"I hate that."
Ryan stood beside Alex with a camcorder in hand. "This will be historical footage. One way or another."
Claire crossed her arms, skeptical. "I give it ten seconds before it nose-dives."
"I give it five," Ryan muttered.
Phil counted down dramatically. "Three! Two! One!"
The plane lurched forward, wobbled violently, and then immediately flipped onto its side, taking out a garden gnome and Claire's prized tulips in the process.
Jay groaned. "We flew better in 'Nam."
Phil dusted himself off. "Okay! Round two!"
Alex leaned closer to Ryan, whispering, "Should we tell them the wingspan's completely off?"
Ryan shook his head. "Nope. This is more fun."
Later that afternoon, after the last of the model airplane debris was cleared and everyone had retreated indoors, Alex lingered at Ryan's porch.
He leaned against the railing. "So… same time next weekend? Maybe without the aerial disasters?"
"Maybe," she replied.
She hesitated, then said, "You know, you're weird. Not in a bad way. Just... you're not like anyone else."
Ryan shrugged. "I get that a lot."
She smiled gently. "I like it."
A beat passed.
Then: "But if your robot tries to high-five me again, I will dismantle it."
He laughed. "Fair warning noted."
She started walking back toward her house, but halfway down the lawn, turned around.
"Hey, Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"You're kind of my favorite person right now."
And just like that, she was gone.
Ryan stood frozen for a moment, heart racing a little faster than he'd ever admit.
Then, quietly: "Alpha, mark this day as significant."
The small earpiece in his pocket chirped back:
"Affirmative. Logged under: Warm Fuzzy Data Points."