Footloose (3 page)

Chapter 4

The car horn blew for the third time as Ariel raced out the front door. She threw her bag into the backseat of Rusty's Mustang hatchback and hopped in the passenger seat. “Sorry. My nails wouldn't dry and they got smudged and I had to do 'em all over again.”

“As long as it was something important that kept me waiting,” Rusty said with an annoyed sigh as she pulled out into the street. “It's only your daddy's church. Why should we ever be on time?”

It was going to be one of
those
days. Ariel used to think that Rusty just needed a bigger caffeine fix in the morning. But it wasn't like that at all. On school or church days, the later Ariel was, the more sarcastic Rusty got. But it wasn't like Ariel didn't have a good reason to be late. She held out her fingernails for Rusty to see. “Tell me this wasn't worth the wait.”

Rusty eyed the bright red nail polish. “It doesn't go with your dress.”

“Nothing does.” Ariel had on a flowery beige dress and the itchy green sweater her grandmomma bought her two Easters ago. She hated the outfit, but she wasn't about to waste her money on church clothes when she could spend it on more fun things—like a bottle of pricey nail polish that was a perfect match for her
other
clothes.

“What's the sermon for today?” Rusty asked. “ ‘Protecting the Children,' ‘Sin and Struggles,' or ‘The Dangers of Progress'?”

“Aren't they all the same?” Ariel asked. “Bet you he finds a way to work all three in.”

Rusty turned onto Main Street. “Uh-uh. I ain't falling for that one again. No betting. I haven't been able to look at Pixy Stix since grade school.”

Ariel laughed. She and Rusty used to bet Pixy Stix over what the Sunday sermon would be. Ariel had a pretty good winning streak going until Rusty figured out that she used to sneak into her daddy's study to see what he was working on every week. Ariel had to give Rusty a year's worth of candy to make up for cheating her.

Betting wasn't as much fun these days, since Daddy kept cycling through the same old lessons over and over again. It had been like that for the past three years.

Ariel's family didn't live far from the church, so the ride was short. Considering how far away they had to park, they might as well have just walked. Daddy's services always played to a packed house. Not because they were exciting; he was just the biggest act in town.

This one was no different from the others Ariel had sat through on many other Sundays. When she was younger, she listened with rapt attention, believing her daddy held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Now she understood that he was simply giving his opinion on how the people of Bomont should live their lives. Funny how much less she agreed with him these days.

Today's topic was “Progress: What Does It Mean to You?”

The reverend looked out over his congregation. “As a society, we welcome invention. We welcome ideas and industry.” Ariel could already hear it coming. “
But
—there is cause for concern. There is a ‘progress trap,' in which we step forward and fall behind, all at the same time.”

He went on to tell the story of old Mr. Rucker, a man who had died before Ariel was even born. She'd heard a lot about him over the years. It was Daddy's favorite way of expounding on what had gone wrong with the world. She could tell the tale by heart now.

Old Mr. Rucker used to be a teller at the bank, way back before ATMs popped up in Bomont. He gave out a piece of Bazooka chewing gum when anyone made a deposit. It always made Daddy feel special. Ariel figured Old Man Rucker had some special deal with the local dentist to give all the customers cavities and increase business. But she was cynical like that.

Rusty elbowed Ariel in the side. She was always nudging her, pointing out new things. Rusty had this excited way of seeing the world that was exhausting after a while. There wasn't much in Bomont worth getting excited over.

The thing that grabbed Rusty's attention today was actually something worth noticing: a new boy sat across the aisle with the Warnicker family. One of the little girls was using his arm as a pillow. It was actually kind of adorable.

Rusty wasn't exactly subtle when she noticed something, so it was no surprise when he turned to look at them. Now that Ariel saw more than just his profile, she had to admit he was pretty cute. A shame she had to see him for the first time in church. This was not the kind of outfit she liked to wear when making a first impression.

Ariel shrugged dismissively for both Rusty's benefit and the boy's. Didn't do her any good for guys to think she was interested. It gave them too much power. When she played hard to get, it wasn't a game. It was real.

Ariel turned her attention back to her daddy at the pulpit. It sounded like he'd be wrapping up soon, if he stuck to the script.

“Why take a family vacation when you can watch TV together on the couch?” he asked rhetorically. She suspected that she inspired that line. It sounded a lot like what she said to him when he suggested a trip to the Grand Canyon. She meant it seriously at the time, but he used it sarcastically here. Ariel wasn't opposed to a family vacation, but her dream destinations were a bit more tropical.

This brought him to the part about the evils of television, especially reality television. Ariel didn't disagree that there was a lot of junk on TV, but reality shows were such easy targets. “
This
is our social network.” He held his hands out over the congregation, building to a crescendo. “And we don't need Facebook to do it.” He picked up the Bible. “There's only one book we need.”

The laughter and smattering of applause didn't surprise Ariel. The congregants always let Reverend Shaw Moore know when they approved of his message. Ariel gave him points for the use of props with the closing bit. She subtracted points for everything else. But she had other kinds of social networking on her mind. Her eyes were glued to the new text message on her phone.

YOU COMING TONIGHT?

About time.
She'd been waiting all morning for Chuck to call or text. Obviously she was going to meet up with him later, but a girl liked to be asked. She didn't just go places uninvited.

Daddy added a final endnote to his anti-innovation message. “I know that my Redeemer lives. He lives in all of us. And through His love we will be delivered to the Kingdom of Heaven. And that … is the only kind of progress we need.”

Ariel quickly typed,

HELL YEAH!

“Let us pray.”

•  •  •  •  •

It took all Ren's willpower to keep from springing out of the pew the moment the service ended. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in an actual church. His mom's funeral was just a small memorial service at the funeral home. Aside from Ren, the only people who'd attended were a few of the nurses they'd become friends with over the years. Uncle Wes had asked the reverend to say a few words here during his regular Sunday service; otherwise his mom's burial went largely unnoticed in the world. To everyone but Ren, that is.

It took some time for them to get up the aisle and out of the church. The delay gave Ren more time to check out the girl who had been eyeing him during the service. Sure, she'd shrugged him off, but he'd been on the receiving end of a lot of casual indifference over the years. It didn't mean that door was closed to him.

Once they were back outside the redbrick church, Ren started to head for the car, but his uncle guided the family in the other direction. The reverend and his wife were greeting the parishioners as they left the building.

“Reverend Moore,” Wes said, making sure that Ren was beside him. “This is my sister's son. The one I was telling you about: Ren McCormack.”

The reverend's handshake was stiff and formal. “Hey, Ren. I'm glad you're here with us today. This is my wife, Violet.”

Her grip was more relaxed as she shook hands with Ren. “Hello, Ren. You can call me Vi. Everyone does.” She took a shallow breath and looked him in the eye. He knew what was coming next. It had already happened a few times before the service started. “You know, I went to grade school with your mother, Sandy. She was a delightful person. I'm so sorry for your loss.”

Ren nodded his appreciation, unable to find the right words to answer her. She probably didn't mean anything by it, but every single person who brought up his mom talked about remembering her from childhood, as if they were intentionally avoiding her teenage years, when she'd left town. Even as nice as this Vi person seemed, there was a silent sort of judgment in that.

“I think you're going to like Bomont High,” Reverend Moore said. “The graduating class is the biggest we've had in the school's history.” He turned to a man in a standard blue blazer and gray pants who was hovering on the edge of the conversation, waiting to jump in. “How many seniors do we have this year?”

“A hundred and twenty,” the man replied eagerly. “Give or take a dropout.” That was maybe one quarter the size of the senior class at Ren's old school.

“Roger's the principal over at Bomont High,” the reverend explained. That wasn't a surprise. The guy gave off a definite principal vibe.

It was the principal's turn to hold out his hand. Ren hadn't shaken this many hands in his life. “You start on Monday?”

“Yeah.” Ren quickly adjusted when his uncle winced and shot him a warning glare. “Yes, sir.”

“You got any problems, you come see me,” the principal offered. “My door's always open.” Ren couldn't imagine any problem he'd ever go to the principal for. He'd never even said so much as “hi” to the principal at his old school.

Roger gave him the once-over. “You play football?” he asked. “We could use a kicker.” With Ren's slim body, he was never going to be a defensive lineman. “If you want to play for us, just stay clean and keep out of trouble. I heard you already had a run-in with the law.”

That explained why he was hovering. The principal was also the town gossip. Ren hadn't planned on interacting much with the man before, and he was certainly going to avoid him now.

“You what?” Wes asked.

Ren hadn't thought to mention the ticket to his uncle. Seeing the expression on Wes's face, Ren realized he was going to have to do things differently while he lived under his roof.

It didn't help that Roger decided to twist the knife a little when he saw the surprise on Wes's face. “I don't know how it is up in Boston, but down here there's rules about playing your music too loud.”

“Ren, you didn't tell me about—”

“And there's rules about tacky signage,” Roger added. That seemed to be for Wes's benefit. “Don't mean to put on my councilman's cap here, Wes, but did you take that neon sign down yet? The one over your lot?”

“No,” Wes said, silently stewing. “Not yet, Roger.” Ren was glad that the attention had moved away from him, but Roger was still a major pain.

And he wouldn't stop. “It may sell cars, but it's against Code.” Ren could hear the capital “C” when Roger said “Code.”

A gentle hand took Ren by the arm. Vi pulled him away from the growing annoyance. “You don't want to listen to any of that, do you?” she asked.

“No. I mean, no'm.” It still sounded weird. “Or, no, ma'am.”

Vi laughed. “I didn't think so.” She called out a name. “Ariel.”

The girl who had been nonchalantly ignoring Ren turned at the sound of her name. She was a half second too slow in covering up her interest when she saw her mom walking over with Ren. At least that's how Ren read it. A crack was showing in her casual indifference.

“My daughter goes to Bomont High,” Vi said. “You should have a friend on your first day. Ariel, this is Ren McCormack. He'll be attending school with you tomorrow.”

A thousand witty greetings sprang to mind, but Ren settled on, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ariel replied. Their eyes held on each other. It was an opening. Ren just needed to find something to say, but he didn't know what to talk about with this girl from a small town. Everything that came to him seemed so pretentious. What did they even have in common, beyond the fact that they both were trying to appear smoother than they probably were?

The moment passed when Ariel turned her attention over his shoulder. “Daddy? Rusty and I have that science project due tomorrow. We're going to head over to her house and work on it all night. I might just sleep over, if that's okay.”

Ren didn't believe for a second this girl was worried about her homework. The tipoff was the vague “science project.”

“On a school night?” her dad asked. “Is that really necessary?”

Without a beat, she turned and called to her friend. “Rusty? Don't you think it will take all night?”

The girl responded quickly. They'd either rehearsed this or done it before. “Sure. At least.”

“I suppose it will be fine,” the reverend said.

“Thanks, Daddy,” Ariel said, all sweetness and light. “Bye, Mom.”

Ren watched her walk off while trying not to look like he was watching. Maybe Bomont wouldn't be that bad after all.

Chapter 5

Ariel grabbed her bag out of the backseat of Rusty's car. Good thing her parents were gone before she left the house with it this morning; they might have figured out that her sudden overnight stay was planned in advance. She hadn't been completely sure it was going to happen when she'd packed the bag, but the text from Chuck confirmed that she'd need an excuse for staying out after curfew. Rusty's mom was much easier to get past on this kind of thing. Especially when she didn't know that Ariel was supposed to be at her house.

Actually, Rusty was the hard one to fool. She still worried about the little white lie even after they'd put miles between them and the church. It had been the first thing out of her mouth as soon as they were out of earshot of Ariel's parents. “He might be your daddy,” Rusty had said, “but he's my preacher. I can't lie to a man of God. That's got to be a sin.”

Ariel had relied on her go-to answer for these situations. “Only if you get caught.”

It was true, in her mind. She had no problem separating her daddy from his job. His role in the town meant less and less to her after that night three years ago. His role as her father meant less every day, too.

“What do you think of the new guy?” Rusty asked as she drove down the two-lane blacktop that led them out of town.

“If you're into that kind of thing.” Ariel shrugged. He was cute enough, but there was plenty of cute in Bomont. Didn't mean he was her type of guy.

There was that weird moment when she didn't know what to say to him, though. That didn't happen to her much around guys. Probably had to do with how she hated the trite things people said to her after Bobby's funeral. She'd heard her parents talking about how the Warnickers were expecting their nephew because his mom died. That was probably the only reason there was any awkwardness.

Ariel usually avoided anyone her parents introduced her to. It wasn't a good starting point for a relationship. She preferred the guys her parents didn't know a thing about.

Honestly, Ariel was more concerned with getting her tight jeans on underneath her dress at the moment. There wasn't a lot of room to maneuver in Rusty's passenger seat.

“You mean guys my own age?” Rusty asked. “Yeah. I'm into that kinda thing.” It was a dig at Ariel and the guy she was meeting. Chuck wasn't that much older than they were—just old enough that he could get her into the kinds of places guys in school couldn't.

When Ariel didn't answer, Rusty continued. “Well, I think he's sexier than all get-out. And he's from out of town, so don't tell me that doesn't curl your toes.”

Those toes now slid into the flashy cowboy boots Ariel had ordered online. They were also the reason she'd gone with today's choice of nail polish. Her friend caught a glimpse of the red leather from the driver's seat. “Uh-oh,” Rusty said. “Girlfriend's putting on her red boots. Ready to stomp your heart into the dirt.”

That was the best thing about Rusty: she moved from mother hen to partner in crime without skipping a beat. As much as she liked to tell Ariel what to do sometimes, she also enjoyed the show.

Ariel didn't wear the boots for comfort. “My daddy hates these boots.”

“I'm sure he's over the moon with them tight jeans.”

“You can't wear skirts or dresses down on pit row,” Ariel reminded her. Rusty knew better than that, but she rarely ever ventured beyond the stands at the racetrack. She watched with the other spectators, while Ariel preferred getting into the mix.

Ariel finished changing out of her churchgoing clothes and into her hell-raising ones. She dumped her bag in the backseat and topped off her look with some more makeup. She'd become an expert at applying while riding, adjusting for the bumps, the turns, and the hard, sudden stops that were Rusty's specialty.

Of course Daddy wouldn't like her in these colors. He'd hate everything down to the nail polish. “Painted like a harlot,” he'd say. Or something like that. Ariel was a totally different person by the time they reached the racetrack, and not just on the outside.

Cranston Speedway was miles outside the Bomont town limits, and a whole world away from Ariel's regular life. It had a carnival atmosphere that extended to the parking lot—family entertainment mixed with something a little darker, a little seedier.

Excited fans cheered in the stands, where hot dogs and beer were the meal of choice, as bright-colored stock cars slid around each curve of the dirt track. This wasn't some nice, polished NASCAR event. This was down-and-dirty stock car racing. And the most down-and-dirty of the drivers was in the lead.

A car that Ariel was intimately familiar with broke away as the racers started the final lap. The driver's daddy may own the track, but he made a name for himself in the racing world in other ways. This race was no different. He cut off the lead car and pulled far ahead by the time the checkered flag dropped, the winner once again.

The announcer's crackling voice came over the shoddy PA system. “Today's stock car division two-time champion … folks, give it up for Chuck Cranston!”

Rusty cheered along with the crowd, but Ariel just watched in silence. Other girls would run straight over to the car, but she'd wait. Much as she wanted to tell herself that she was just being cool, the truth was, she didn't much care about the win. Chuck was always winning at something. He surrounded himself with friends who made sure his wins happened. She liked that “by any means necessary” aspect about him.

Chuck's admirers crowded around him as he stood on the roof of his car, flashing his devilish grin. Now that the spotlight was entirely on Chuck, it was time for Ariel to make her entrance.

She sauntered past the stands, feeling the warmth of the sun on her shoulders as she stepped out of the shade and into the sunlight. Chuck's eyes weren't the only ones on her as she approached the outer edge of the track.

He shouted something to her, but she couldn't hear him over the roar of the engines from the other cars still on the track. “What?” she yelled back.

“The flag!” he screamed, motioning toward the track official who had waved the checkered flag at the end of the race. “Bring me the flag, girl!”

Without a second thought, Ariel ran over to the official as he came down the ladder from his platform perched above the track. She snatched the flag before he realized what she was doing and hopped out onto the raceway.

The official shouted after her as she crossed the dirt track. “Hey! Get back here!”

Rusty screamed, too, but for different reasons. “Ariel! What the hell are you doing?”

Walking onto the track while the other cars took a final lap wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done. But these were professional drivers. They were good at avoiding obstacles. Besides, they weren't even at race speed. Hardly more dangerous than crossing a busy street.

Ariel confidently sauntered along as the cars passed. Couldn't let Chuck see her sweat. The rednecks in the stands hooted and hollered, but their voices weren't nearly the loudest.

The track official screeched at her. “Young lady, you are not allowed on the track!” Like she cared.

“Get back here!” Rusty pled. “You're gonna get yourself killed out there!” The fear she heard in her friend's voice was the only thing that might have stopped her, but Ariel was committed now. It was just as dangerous to turn back as it was to proceed.

Another racer pulled off her helmet and hopped out of a car in pit row, adding to the chorus of voices. It was Caroline, who always seemed to be hanging around Chuck. “Get off the track, jailbait!” the trashy woman yelled. “Go back to Bomont and have a bake sale.”

Ariel was in the pit now. She placed her middle finger on her eye, as if she was rubbing it. “Caroline, why is it every time you smile, I get dirt in my eye?” Juvenile? Yes. But Caroline made her go there sometimes. The woman threw herself at Chuck in the most pathetic ways, even when Ariel was around.

Chuck's cackle of laughter told Ariel that he appreciated the base humor. She climbed up onto the hood of his car for a kiss as the audience howled in approval. Didn't take much to win them over. Usually just a flash of her tight pants and red boots.

“Are you my trophy?” Chuck asked as they pulled apart.

“Not without a victory lap,” she replied.

Chuck slid off the roof of the car, down into the window and the driver's seat. Ariel stuck her legs inside the window, resting them on his lap as she sat on the edge of the doorframe, half inside, half out. Chuck grabbed her legs and peeled out for his victory lap. The checkered flag, and Ariel's golden hair, flapped in the breeze.

The crowd ate it up as they tore around the track, but Ariel wasn't as into it herself. Sure, she was laughing and having fun, but it wasn't nearly as exciting as it could be. Chuck's arms squeezed too tightly onto her legs, and he hooted and hollered like they were doing something
truly
dangerous. He barely drove fast enough for her to get some truly good wind through her hair. This was nothing.

Ariel slammed her fist down on the roof, banging to get his attention. “I don't know how you win races with that candy-ass driving!”

“You want me to put the spurs to her?” he asked. “Hang on!”

Chuck held onto her legs tighter and revved his engine. Ariel knew goading him would work. Questioning Chuck's driving was like doubting his testosterone level. She grabbed onto the doorframe as her body jumped back when he stomped on the gas.

The cheers from the crowd changed to warning shouts, but Ariel didn't care. This was speed. This was
living
. This was the kind of driving that Bobby was doing before his death. This exhilaration was the last thing he experienced in life. Her fear now was nothing compared to her joy.

Chuck's car picked up speed every second, sliding sideways around each corner as the tires lost traction on the dirt track. “Faster!” Ariel screamed. “Come on! Faster!”

She never felt so alive. No one telling her what to do. How to dress. What music to listen to. It was just her and the car and the adrenaline. Even Chuck didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.

The final curve was coming up fast. Ariel held onto the window frame with all her might. What would happen if she let go now? Was Chuck holding her tight enough? Could he cling to her and steer at the same time?

The car spun out near the trailers, throwing Ariel's body against the doorframe. She slipped backward, but stayed upright. The jolt threw some fear into her, but Chuck never let go. Heart pounding, they came to a stop not that far from Rusty.

The expression on her friend's face slammed Ariel back into reality. Losing herself in that moment had clearly terrified Rusty. The girl didn't say a word. She just stomped off as Ariel hopped to the ground.

Rusty might complain at times, but she put up with a lot of her friend's crap. She was one of the few people who got to see the full Ariel these days. When even Rusty couldn't take it, Ariel knew she'd gone too far. She hurried after her friend, past the hoots and hollers from the crowd heading to the parking lot.

“Rusty!” she called out. “Rusty! Where are you going?”

Rusty spun on her. Eyes full of anger. “You know when you see on the news that someone got killed doing something stupid?”

Ariel rolled her eyes, trying to play it off. “Oh, great. This again.” But Rusty had gotten to her. She hated seeing her friend look at her that way. Rusty was the one person she could count on these days to never let her down—even when Ariel did her best to disappoint Rusty.

“Well, I don't want to be the stupid friend who stands around watching,” Rusty continued without hesitation. “He should never let you do that.”

It wasn't fair to blame Chuck for Ariel's actions, but Rusty never liked him. She didn't like most of the guys Ariel hung around with these days. The problem was, when Ariel knew she should apologize, that was usually when her defenses went up and she found herself on the attack. She never understood why that happened. “So that's what you're going to do?” Ariel said. “You're just going to leave me?”

“
Me?
Leave
you?
” There were tears in Rusty's eyes. It made Ariel feel even worse. Rusty always took it hard when Ariel did these things, but it had never moved her to tears before.

Rusty's voice went uncomfortably soft. “I don't know what's going on with you anymore. Ever since Bobby …” Her voice trailed off. There was nothing more to say. She turned on her heel and walked away.

Ariel wanted to go after her. She wanted to hop in the car as Rusty got into the driver's seat. But what she'd said about Bobby hurt too much. Ariel couldn't sit beside Rusty on the long ride back to Bomont. Not right now. “Guess I'll get a ride back to town.”

“I guess you will.” Rusty peeled out of the gravel parking lot.

The crowd continued to head for their cars. Strangers pushed past Ariel on their way out. She didn't notice them. All she knew was that she was alone. But there was an easy remedy for that. She headed back to the track to find Chuck. He was always good for a distraction when she wanted to take her mind off everything.

Chuck Cranston may not be anyone's idea of a sparkling conversationalist, but she had Rusty for that … when Rusty was speaking to her. Chuck wasn't exactly the best boyfriend material, either. Much of their time together focused on him, not her. But he was always up for a good time and never took things too seriously. That was really all Ariel needed.

The only problem was that Chuck was much like his racecar; stuck on a single track. In some ways he was fun and exciting. But in other ways, Ariel knew being with him would never get her anywhere.

After the stands emptied and the other racers went off to their trailers or the bars, the only vehicle left on the track was the water truck spraying down the loose dirt. Ariel watched it make its lazy route from the back of Chuck's car trailer. With the door open, they had a semi-private room that was about as romantic as being in an open garage. Even so, Chuck tried to have his fun.