Footloose (7 page)

Chapter 12

Ren had only been in Bomont for a month, and already he had an entourage. Well, “posse” might be a better word. It felt good to have Willard, Woody, Etta, and Rusty beside him as he went out to the center of the dirt track at Cranston Speedway. Walking into something like this alone was just asking for trouble.

He was surprised when Rusty met up with them earlier instead of going with Ariel. It was like she'd made herself part of their group even though her best friend played for the other team.

The way that Rusty and Willard were getting closer was hard to miss—for everyone but them. Willard played dumb anytime Ren mentioned her, acting like he had no clue what Ren was talking about. But the shy smile that always crossed Willard's face was a dead giveaway. As they walked across the track, Ren couldn't help but notice that Willard was keeping himself in front of her, as if Chuck and his buddies were about to leap out and attack or something.

“If that hog tries anything, I'm gonna pound him,” Willard said to Ren through clenched teeth.

“Willard, no fighting,” Rusty warned.

“No promises,” Willard replied.

Smiling right now would ruin the tense mood, but Ren thought it was kind of cute how Willard and Rusty already acted like an old married couple.

Chuck leaned back on top of an old tractor in the middle of the field, smoking something that wasn't legal in Bomont or Boston. His three followers from school were at the foot of the tractor, along with Ariel. Why Chuck, who obviously had graduated a few years ago, hung out with high school kids didn't make much sense to Ren. Probably no one Chuck's own age would put up with him.

That wasn't entirely true. A woman who looked a couple years older than Chuck was with them as well. No telling what her story was. “The high school field trip is here,” the woman said. As if she had any right to judge them, considering she was hanging with their classmates.

Chuck hopped into the tractor seat and powered up the machine. “Hey, city mouse! Dance with this!”

The posse scattered as Chuck rolled the tractor straight for them. Everyone moved but Ren. He wasn't going to let some idiot scare him off as soon as he got there. The guy may be an ass, but he wouldn't kill anyone. Not intentionally, anyway. But there was always the chance that he'd lose control of the tractor and run over Ren. Chuck did seem the type who could accidentally kill someone.

Ren worried that might happen here as the tractor inched closer to him. He started to rethink his stand.

At the last second, Chuck pulled off to the right. Ren felt the wind off the tractor as it made the sudden move and dumped a bucketful of dirt in front of four beat-up school buses.

People with way too much time on their hands had painted the buses in crazy graffiti. Three of the buses were dark and menacing, with flames and skulls and all kinds of things meant to intimidate. The fourth bus was orange and yellow, with rows of stuffed animals strapped to the sides and front like it was meant for some kiddie party. There wasn't much doubt who that bus was meant for. Chuck shut down the tractor and climbed off it. He didn't bother with pleasantries. “We race these buses in a figure eight. Like this.” He drew a figure eight in the dirt with the tip of his shoe, as if Ren needed to see it to understand. “In a figure eight.”

None of the old buses looked like they were in any shape to race, especially not on the rough track. If you could even call it a track; with all the trailers out of the center, it wasn't much more than a big dirt pit.

“Two things you gotta be worried about,” Chuck warned. “Your corners and your intersections.” He pointed to Rich, who stood directly in the middle of the dirt pit where the figure eight came together. Rich waved back as if they couldn't see him just fine on their own.

Not for the first time, Ren wondered why he was wasting his time with Chuck and his bozos. One glance at Ariel answered the question. She was still ignoring him like usual, but this time the peeks she took were in his direction, not Chuck's. There might even have been some concern in those eyes, but Ren wasn't sure if that was just wishful thinking on his part. Either way, it wasn't something he needed to be focusing on at the moment.

“You fall behind, you're gonna get hit by the leader,” Chuck said. “You pull ahead, and you might get slammed by the guy in last place. Good luck. We'll make sure you get a proper burial.”

It was supposed to sound threatening, but it was more obnoxious posturing than anything else. Ren didn't remember actually agreeing to race, but he couldn't back out now. If he did that, he'd never hear the end of it from these guys. More importantly, he'd never have a shot at dancing with Ariel again.

Ren's posse gathered back around him after Chuck walked off. “Saw a race over in Camden where one of the buses burst into flames,” Willard said. “Barbequed the driver like a hog on a spit.”

“Right.” Ren nodded. Like he needed to know that. This was insane. Couldn't they just fight, like normal people? Sure, Chuck looked like he knew his way around a weight room, but Ren's gymnastics training kept him in good condition. More than a few guys back in Boston had made the mistake of thinking that just because he could handle a pommel horse he couldn't dish out a pummeling of his own.

School bus racing? How does someone even come up with that? He looked over the four buses again. No matter how much paint they threw on them, it didn't hide the fact that each one was more rickety than the next. He knew a thing or two about cars, but these hulking beasts were way outside his comfort zone.

He didn't even bother trying to go for the flaming skull bus. Stepping straight up to the fuzzy animal bus said more about him that any attempt at posturing. It didn't matter what the bus looked like on the outside in this race—it was more about the driver behind the wheel. And this driver didn't have a clue what he was getting himself into.

It wasn't a good start when the door refused to open for him. Rather than putting his tail between his legs and asking for help, Ren threw his weight into it and forced the door open. A minor success. Hopefully not the last one of the afternoon. Willard and Woody piled in after him as Ren got accustomed to the driver's seat. He'd never seen a bus from this angle before. The seat was much higher above the road than he was used to. But that wasn't the only difference.

The dashboard was almost nonexistent. Most of the circuits were jury-rigged in some way, with wires crisscrossing in front of him. Some even hung loose, attached to nothing but air. Woody walked Ren through the basics of bus driving, like he'd been through this kind of thing before. It was all Ren could do to keep up. Once he thought he had it, Woody moved on to the more important rules.

“All right,” Woody said. “If she flips over, just crawl out the side window.”

“Make sure you got your seatbelt on.” Willard pulled at the partially torn strap. It wasn't going to stop anything. “But if she catches fire, just keep crawling.”

Woody continued as the two of them fought to get the words out. “Once you get her running fast—”

“Hammer down. Don't get loose.”

“You'll want to break around corners. Pump it with your foot real hard.”

“Pump it real good,” Willard emphasized in an ominous tone.

“This all sounds pretty dangerous,” Ren said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “I mean, we could get killed, right?”

Woody clapped a hand on Ren's shoulder. “What's this ‘we,' white man?”

With a couple good luck wishes, Woody and Willard hurried out of the bus, leaving Ren behind. He'd been on his own a lot in his life. But he'd never felt quite so alone before, even though he could hear Rusty and Etta cheering him on from the stands before the race even started.

Theirs weren't the only voices he could hear: Chuck's obnoxious mouth carried right through the broken window beside Ren's head, along with the last of the sweet-smelling smoke from his joint.

“Okay, let's kick this pig!” Chuck shouted for Ren's benefit. “Caroline, you gonna be on the inside or the outside?”

The woman they'd never bothered to introduce said, “I'll be on the outside. Move my way up your tailpipe.”

Ren watched as the woman held out a flask to Ariel. “Need a swig, Goldilocks?” Ariel shook her head. “No? Oh, that's right, little girl. You're underage.” Caroline cackled with laughter, like she'd just made the funniest joke ever.
Great.
Just what Ren needed. As if the race wasn't a dumb enough idea to start with, two of the racers were either drunk or high.

I should call this off
, he thought.

He checked to make sure his seatbelt was tight instead.

Chuck giggled as he stumbled up the steps into his bus.

“Whoa, baby,” Ariel said. “Are you sure you're up to this? You've had a lot to smoke.”

He shook her off. “Don't be telling me I've had enough.”

“I didn't say you had enough. I said you had
a lot
.”

“You wanna lecture somebody, go tell Sweet Buns to start his engine.”

Ren never wanted to hit anyone more than he wanted to punch Chuck in the face right then. This race was all about Ariel, and the guy treated her like crap. She was just looking out for him, being the lone voice of reason when even Ren couldn't bring himself to stop this. Why didn't she see that she could do so much better?

Ren revved his engine to let them know he got the message as Chuck shut the door on Ariel. She stood fuming for a moment before climbing into the back of Chuck's truck and holding tight as Travis pulled out from between the buses.

“There's one warm-up lap before the green flag drops,” Ariel shouted as they passed Ren. “You got that?”

Ren gave a thumbs up, but she was already gone.

The voice of Chuck's flunky, Rich, came blasting out of the PA. “Gentlemen,” he said. “You, too, Caroline. Start your engines!”

All four buses followed Travis, who was using the truck as a pace car. Russell was on Ren's left, Chuck was on his right, and Caroline was down at the end. Ariel stood in front of them all in the truck bed, holding the yellow caution flag.

“Hey, where's the green flag?” she called up to Travis.

“Improvise!” he shouted back.

She looked down at her own tank top. It was green enough. With a grin, she removed it, revealing the pink bra underneath. Chuck and his buddies cheered and waved at her, shouting out catcalls. Ren just shook his head. He didn't turn away, but he also wasn't going to act like those asses about it. Ariel waved her shirt over her head and let out an excited
whoop
before she dropped her arm to start the race.

“Put the spurs to her, Ren!” Rusty shouted over the noise of the engines.

Ren pushed down on the gas and took off, neck and neck with Chuck. The bus rumbled beneath him as he struggled with the wheel to keep it on the straightaway. Nothing responded the way he expected. Even the brakes felt light as he went into the turn.

“Pump the brakes! Pump the brakes!” Woody yelled.

Ren stomped on the brake pedal, but the bus kept rolling on into the curve. He sideswiped an embankment. It slowed him enough that he could take back control of the behemoth, but Chuck, Russell, and Caroline pulled ahead.

Ren got the bus back in gear and slipped into fourth place, coming up on Caroline. She slammed her bus into his to let Ren know she didn't like that. Metal smashed into metal, jarring him to his core.
Nobody said anything about bumper cars.

Caroline kept on him, not letting up as they drove toward the intersection of the figure eight, with Russell heading right for them.

This is gonna be ugly
, Ren thought. If only he could get away from her, he might be able to avoid the coming wreck. He tried to wave Caroline off, but she was so focused on him that she didn't see anything else. The three buses were heading for a huge crash.

Gotta do something
, Ren thought.
But what?

The brakes were still sluggish, but Ren didn't see any other option. He slammed both feet onto the pedal, jamming it all the way down to the floor. Clouds of dust kicked up behind him as the brake finally engaged and Caroline pulled ahead. She never saw Russell coming.

BAM!
The collision echoed throughout the track. Russell's bus T-boned Caroline's. She flipped to the side, skidding to a stop as Russell continued on as if she'd never been there in the first place.

As he passed her, Ren saw Caroline climbing out the window, cursing Russell. She seemed okay enough to Ren. He continued on as a couple of Chuck's other unnamed buddies pushed Caroline's bus off the track with a pair of tractors.

The bus got easier to steer the longer Ren was behind the wheel, but the brakes were still hit or miss. This was too dangerous. Too stupid. He wasn't going to die just to make a point or impress some girl.

He was about to pull out of the race when Russell rear-ended him in a violent smash. Ren cursed as the brakes failed. His foot banged the pedal against the floor, but it was useless. He didn't even feel any pressure—the brakes were completely gone. He couldn't stop this now if he wanted to.

But that wasn't the worst part. He saw sparks flying out the back of the bus in the rearview mirror. He heard metal grinding against metal. Something must have broken in the undercarriage.

The sparks caught on one of the stuffed animals and quickly turned into flames. His friends screamed a mix of cheers and fear from the stands.

His wasn't the only bus damaged. Russell did more harm to his own ride with the crash, and he spun out of control and came to a hard stop. It was just Ren and Chuck now.

Ren threw all his strength into steering as he hit the corner with no brakes. It almost felt like the wheels were coming off the ground. Woody was on the edge of the track holding a fire extinguisher as the flames grew. They were inside the bus now.