Fastback Beach (6 page)

But that doesn't stop me from thinking about them. It doesn't stop the pictures that form in my mind of the car being stripped and sold for parts. They'd get a lot of money for the racing gear, the Stewart-Warner gauges, Hurst shifter, Sun Super tach and the wheels and tires.

Then I form a different mind picture: they're all partying at the beach, taking turns at the wheel, throwing up rooster-tails of sand as they dump the clutch and race the engine until it screams. I see them jumping Fast-back's dunes, cutting donuts on the beach, weaving in and out of sand and water.

I sign my statement and hand it to the cop. He looks at it, shrugs and tosses it onto his desk. Just like a teacher, he can tell at a glance when a paper really says nothing.

“We're not charging you, Miles, but you are a suspect. You understand?”

I nod.

“Okay, let's go. We're taking you home.”

Again Ned and I get into the backseat of the cruiser. We say nothing until the car stops at Ned's house.

“Miles, your friends are not your friends if they did this,” Ned says to me.

I look away out my side window. “I know.”

He doesn't need to say any more. Pictures of the low-slung coupe bouncing and scraping over grass-tufted dunes move through my mind like a horror video in slow motion.

Mom and Jeff are at the door when the cops bring me home. I fight an urge to turn and run. I've got an idea.

First I apologize to Mom for bringing on this trouble and then I try to convince her of my plan. “I want to go out to Fastback Beach,” I say. “I know I'll find someone or something there. Can I please have the Honda? I'll be careful.”

It works.

As Mom goes to find her keys I hear a car drive up. I look out. It's a brand-new Caddy. Kenny jumps out. I hear her say, “Thanks, Mom,” and she comes running up the steps. I don't need to fill her in. Mrs. Barnier already has.

I tell her what I'm going to do. “I'm coming,” she says.

On the way out, my foot wants to stomp the gas pedal but I don't need any more attention from cops.

It's a cool day with a wind. As we come off the highway and over the crest of the hill we see a bonfire blazing on the beach. A group of people stand around, all turned the same way watching something. We follow their gaze to a red '37 Ford coupe squirreling at top speed over the dunes, cutting hairpin turns. Sand spews sky-high. The powerful engine screams and gears thrash as the four-speed is jammed through its paces.

We race past the bonfire, past the group of kids who stare at us open-mouthed.
I recognize Megan and Greg and some others before they blur into background.

The coupe is flying straight towards us. The car flies over the dune above us. He doesn't see us! I hit the brakes and swerve so suddenly that Kenny nearly pitches through the windshield. She's out of the car almost before it stops, racing towards the coupe.

I cut the ignition and jump out. “Kenny! Watch out!”

I lunge towards her, making the best football tackle of my life. We both roll in the sand as the coupe whizzes past. The engine screams, then we hear a sickening thud.

Everything goes quiet. I hear a seagull's cry and pounding feet of the kids racing from the bonfire towards us. Kenny is lying face-down in the sand. I gently turn her over and brush hair back from her face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

I hold her in my arms as we sit, sand-covered and shaking.

“You guys hurt?” Megan and Greg
stoop to check us out and offer their hands to help us to our feet.

Larry and Spider jump out of the coupe and come running over. Suddenly the air is filled with yells and accusations. Larry gives me a push on the shoulder that sends me reeling. “You idiot! If she's hurt it's your fault!”

My fist lands squarely on his nose. A shadow hurls itself at me and I go down under the full impact of Spider's two-hundred-pound frame. We hit the ground.

“You ratted us out!” Spider yells.

Spider outweighs me by fifty pounds — but I'm a hundred pounds madder than him.

Arms pull us apart. Megan is dabbing at a bruise on Kenny's forehead with a wet cloth — actually her bikini top.

Larry wipes at his bloody nose and shoots me an evil look. “You didn't need to get so torqued,” he says. “We were just seeing what that engine could do. Not hurtin' anything.”

“Why'd you do it, Larry?”

“I just told Spider you were workin' on an old car, that's all. He wanted to see it.”

I look down. Larry is wearing a Mercedes belt buckle. “The Mercedes, too,” I say.

“Forget it. That thing's toast. Gone, big box.” He snorts, coughs.

Spider's sprawled on his stomach on the sand. Greg Summers is sitting on him, holding back his arms in a half nelson. Maybe he's not destined to be an accountant after all.

“Turn him over,” I say. “He's likely packing a blade.”

Two other guys search him and take away a small knife hidden in a leather sheath under his belt. Talk about somebody being a slow learner.

Spider starts to say something when we hear the car horn. Police!

But it's not a police car. It's Mom, driving Mr. and Mrs. Barnier in their Olds.

Ned gets out of the Olds and strides
over to the coupe. He circles his beloved hot rod, touching it gently here and there like a doctor. I can see scratches and scrapes along the body, and the right front fender and bumper have a few small dents. Ned gets down on the ground to take a look underneath the car. “Muffler torn off,” he grunts. “Header pipe's bent. Likely the oil pan's dented up but it's not leaking.”

He gets up and wipes the sand from his hands. I help him open the hood. The motor appears to have survived. He reaches inside the car and starts the engine. “Gauges all right.” Ned leans over the fender to watch and listen to the engine run.

I give Ned a hand as he gets into the car to drive it ahead so the right front wheel is up on a sand ridge. Then he slides underneath to check things over. Damage seems minimal, to the car that is. It's going to be a while before he can trust me again.

I kneel down. “Mr. Barnier, it's my fault.”

He glares up at me.

“I'm not a car thief, Ned. I never was. I had nothing to do with stealing your car or Ms. Kirkpatrick's or even the Mustang — but in a way I did. By knowing Larry and Spider, and maybe by talking too much.”

“You sure brought a couple of snakes into my garden,” he grunts.

“I did and I'm sorry. I think Larry had something to do with Ms. Kirkpatrick's car — check his belt buckle.”

Ned stares up at me. “Are you going to rat?”

I look down at him, lying there in the sand beneath his wrecked hot rod. “I'm gonna rat.”

The police, called by Mom on her cell phone, are not happy to see us. After talking with Ned they make out an accident report. Then they handcuff Larry and Spider and throw them into the back of the police car.

I walk over to Larry's side and look through the window. He glances up at me, then down at his hands.

“I'm sorry, bro,” Larry says quietly.

I nod. “You should be.”

Megan comes over, looking furious with him and with the entire scene. “This whole place is scary! I'm splittin' — on the next shuttle to Mars!”

“Good idea.”

She glares at Larry, turns and jumps into someone's car for a ride back to town. So much for love.

“It's a beautiful old car,” Larry says, glancing towards the coupe. “When I was driving it I felt like a million bucks.”

“Yeah.”

Larry looks like he's lost his last friend. Maybe he has. “I'll help fix it, if the old man will let me. I'll have nothin' else to do after I get out.”

“Sure.”

Our eyes lock for a moment. Things might work out between us — someday.

“Well, so long,” I say.

“So long, bro.”

Kenny and I join the gang clustered around the coupe. Ned hands me the keys.
“I want you to drive it home, Miles. Could Kenny drive your car back? Mrs. Barnier and your mother could ride in the Olds?”

“Of course,” Kenny says, smiling.

Ned and I get into the '37. I light the engine and ease the Hurst shifter into first. The Corvette engine sounds strong. There'll be good times down the road.

Ned tunes in to the oldies station. Jerry Lee Lewis's voice and piano fill the coupe —
Whole lotta shakin' goin' on
…

We pull onto the highway. We're cruisin'!

“A must-buy for librarians looking for high-quality fiction to appeal to reluctant readers in grades seven through twelve.”

— Voice of Youth Advocates

“ … impressive and believable.”

—
School Library Journal

“Teens will gobble up this cool high/low resource … Simple, clean language, slick packaging and a compact size make this an ideal choice for both teens and educators. School and public librarians will be overjoyed to discover this high-quality new series for reluctant and struggling readers. Highly recommended.”

— NMRLS Youth Services Book Review Group

“They are well written, a great read and will give your readers something age appropriate. Would make great books to discuss in class. Can't praise them enough.”

— district librarian

Orca Soundings

Orca Soundings is a teen fiction series that features realistic teenage characters in stories that focus on contemporary situations.

Soundings are short, thematic novels ideal for class or independent reading. Written by such stalwart authors as William Bell, Beth Goobie, Sheree Fitch and Kristin Butcher, there will be between eight and ten new titles a year.

For more information and reading copies, please call Orca Book Publishers at 1-800-210-5277.

Other titles in the Orca

Soundings series:

Bull Rider

No Problem

The Trouble with Liberty

Who Owns Kelly Paddik?

The Hemingway Tradition

One More Step

Kicked Out

Refuge Cove

Sticks and Stones

Death Wind

Hit Squad

Tough Trails

Truth

Other books by Shirlee Smith Matheson

Nonfiction:

Youngblood of the Peace

This Was Our Valley

Flying the Frontiers Vol. I, “A Half Million Hours of Aviation Adventure”

Flying the Frontiers Vol. II, “More Hours of Aviation Adventure”

Flying the Frontiers Vol. III, “Aviation Adventures Around the World”

A Western Welcome to the World: A History of Calgary International Airport

Juvenile/Young Adult Fiction:

Prairie Pictures

City Pictures

Flying Ghosts

The Gambler's Daughter

Keeper of the Mountains