On the Victory Trail (5 page)

Before bedtime, Skye knocked on Sooze's door with Morgan trailing right behind.

“Hey, what's up?” Skye asked, as she gently pushed open the door.

“Nothing. Just go away and leave me alone!” Sooze fumed, leaning up against the headboard and planting her sneakers firmly on the bed. She pressed her head with her hands. Obvious pain shrouded her face.

“No problem,” Morgan said, pivoting and heading out the doorway. “I have better things to do than listen to this baloney.”

“Another headache?” Skye asked as she turned toward the door. “No wonder you're in such a lousy mood. I'll see you in the morning.”

“No — wait,” Sooze whispered. “C'mere.”

“I wish you'd make up your mind. What's up?” Skye asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Sooze ignored the question, sliding next to Skye, “I'm out of here tonight. Are you with me?”

“Are you crazy?” Skye whispered loudly. “Where would you go? And how? Sooze, think! This might land you in Chesterfield for good, and you'll never get to ride Stormy again.”

“Well, big deal!” Sooze growled. “What's the difference? They are not going to tell me what to do — here or anyplace else.”

“Where are you going? And how?”

“Skye, sometimes you are as thick as that wall. The Chambers have a piece of junk with four wheels they call a truck. Right?”

“Yeah — so?”

“I'm taking that truck, and I'm history. I've watched every time Mr. C. has parked it, and he always throws the keys under the seat. So, are you coming with me or not?”

Skye chewed her lip, trying not to let her face show her fear. “Sooze, this is so not a good idea. You can't drive. You're only fourteen.”

“Hey, been there, done that. There's nothing to it,” Sooze said smugly. “I'm only asking you one more time. Are you coming or not?”

“Where to? And for how long? Where will you stay? How will you eat?”

“I told you I have friends all over the place. Some of them live just an hour from here. They'll hide us until I can think this through. I don't need this goody-two-shoes life.”

“I — I don't know. It sounds really stupid to me.”

“Fine,” Sooze mocked. “If you never want to see me again, that's fine. But if you want to help me, meet me down at the truck at midnight.”

Skye pulled the curtain back on her bedroom window. The clear night sky twinkled with a curtain of stars, and a full moon lit up everything outside with a soft white glow. She studied the backyard intently, focusing on a figure creeping down to the barn and slipping into the front seat of the old pickup. Skye lifted her window an inch and listened to the engine grinding. With headlights out, the truck crawled along the dirt road from the side of the barn, past the house, and onto the main road. There it sat idling.

Sooze, you are so dead!
Skye couldn't let her go like this. She inched her window up a couple of feet, slid out quietly, and darted across the lawn. Panting, she reached the road and ran around to the door on the passenger side of the truck. Carefully, she squeaked it open and slid in.

“So you're not so chicken after all,” Sooze whispered. She pulled the knob for the lights, jammed the gearshift into drive, and crept down the road away from Keystone Stables.

“Sooze, this is so not the way to do this,” Skye said. “Maybe you can be placed in a different foster home if you hate it here so much.”

“I am so sick of people telling me what to do!” Sooze's voice rose in anger as the truck's speed increased. “I have had it up to here with rules.” She lifted her hand and made a slicing motion across her neck.

In an instant, with only one inexperienced hand on its steering wheel, Sooze jerked the truck and the tires caught on the gravel shoulder of the narrow road. The truck spun out of control

Skye's body jolted against the door. As she righted her-self, her eyes fixed on a fast approaching horseshoe turn.

“Look out!” Skye screamed in horror. “You're going too fast! Slow down!”

Sooze fought the wheel to steady the truck, which was now completely out of control.

“Oh no!” Skye screamed. And then everything went black.

chapter five

S
kye lay on a hospital bed with a gauze patch taped above one eyebrow. Scrapes and bruises covered her body. She ached as though she had been twisted into a pretzel and tied up for days.

What happened? Where am I?
she wondered. Then it all came flooding back. Groaning, she finally managed to turn her head just enough to see a clock on the wall.

Three o'clock! It's been hours.

Time to think often found itself on the bottom of Skye's priority list. Thinking left her feeling depressed and alone, even in the middle of a cheering crowd at the Madison football games. But now, for the first time in her short, thirteen-year life, Skye allowed herself to consider what could have happened, and she felt terribly alone.

God, thank you for sending someone to help us.
Skye gasped a sudden breath.
Did I just thank God for saving
me? The God I have no time for? What if I'd died? What
if this had been my last day on Earth?
Skye wondered.
What would I have to show God, so he would let me into
heaven?

“Nothing,” Skye whispered out loud. “Nothing but a rotten attitude and a record of trouble as long as my arm.”

A flood of tears drenched her cheeks, and an over-whelming sense of guilt flooded her soul.

God would never want me!
she thought.
I'm too
rotten!

Then it was as if Mr. Chambers was standing right beside her. She remembered what he'd said to them: “You can't earn your way to heaven. It's God's gift. Just ask him to forgive you of your sins, and you'll be a new per-son, inside and out!”

Then Skye remembered Morgan's words: “Jesus is the best friend I have. He's always there when I need him.”

I need you right now, God!
Skye's heart cried out.

Just then, a pretty nurse with dark hair and kind eyes came through the doors. “So you're awake, are you?” she said. “As soon as the doctor checks you out, some ­people here are anxious to see you.”

Again, the doors opened, and a man in a white lab coat, with straight black hair, hurried in. Reading glasses were perched on his nose as he glanced at a clipboard.

“Skye Nicholson,” he said, flipping through some papers. “I'm Dr. Wang. You are one fortunate young lady. You and your friend both hit your heads on the windshield. It seems that someone's been watching out for you,” he said as he gently examined Skye's head, neck, and shoulders.

The doctor nodded at the nurse, who walked to the door and waved. Mrs. Chambers rushed into the room with her husband following close behind.

“Honey, are you all right?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

“You sure know how to scare the wits out of us,” Mr. Chambers said, forcing a smile. “What were you two trying to do?”

“Where's Sooze? Is she okay?” Skye rubbed her swollen, tear-soaked eyes.

“Sooze is in another room,” Mr. Chambers said. “She's got a nasty bump on her head. She's still a little dizzy, but the doctor thinks she'll be okay. It's a miracle you two weren't seriously injured — or killed! The truck is totaled, but God had his hand of protection on you two. No doubt about it.”

“When will she be released?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

“We need to keep her for observation. You can prob-ably take her home tomorrow. However,” Dr. Wang directed his words back to Skye, “you take it easy for a few days. You've got some serious bruising, and those stitches above your eye need time to heal. No cartwheels or jumping out of airplanes or anything. Okay?”

“What about Sooze — Susan Bodmer — across the hall?” Mrs. Chambers asked. “May we take her with us too?”

Dr. Wang looked through another set of papers. “Hmm,” he said, deep in thought. “Preliminary skull X-rays show something that we'd like to examine a little further. She got a nasty bump on the left side of her head. We'd like to keep her a few more days for observation and run more tests. It's probably nothing, but we want to make sure. She's complaining of a severe headache.”

“Sooze has a lot of headaches,” Skye said.

Mrs. Chambers' face reflected deep concern. “She's been our foster child for less than a week. She hasn't told us about the headaches, and her health records show no such problem.”

“Like I said,” Dr. Wang replied, “it's probably nothing, but I would like our neurosurgeon to take a look at the test results. We're going to move her upstairs now. If you wait a little longer, you should be able to see her.”

“Yes, we'll wait,” Mr. Chambers said. “We'll go grab coffee and wait in Skye's room.”

“The nurse will let you know when you can see Susan,” Dr. Wang said. “She'll direct you to Susan's room. I'm sure she'll be very glad to see you.”

In the dimly lit hospital room, Skye sipped chocolate milk from a carton while Mr. and Mrs. Chambers drank coffee from Styrofoam cups like two robots. All three struggled with heavy eyelids.

Mrs. Chambers broke the hush. “This place makes you want to whisper, doesn't it?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Chambers said. Finishing his coffee, he stared at Skye. “How do you feel?”

“Okay,” she said. “Just a little stiff is all.”

Mrs. Chambers sipped her coffee. “Where did you girls think you were going at that hour? And what made you two think Sooze could drive a truck?”

Skye set down her carton. “You probably won't believe me, but I was trying to stop her. She wanted to drive to some friend's house about an hour from here. I went with her to try to talk her out of it. I know I could've been killed!”

Skye felt her face flush. Tears streamed down her face and onto her hospital gown.

“What's the matter, Honey?” Mrs. Chambers gently rubbed Skye's back and handed her a tissue.

“I'm just so sorry,” was all Skye could manage between sobs.

“We know you are,” Mr. Chambers said. “There will be some consequences later, but for now we want you to know that we still love you.”

“I don't mean just this,” Skye said, rubbing her tearfilled eyes. “I mean I'm sorry for everything. Mr. C., I've been thinking about what you said in devotions the other night — you know, about God's gift? I want to ask Jesus to forgive me and save me. Would I have to wait until church on Sunday to do that?”

Mr. Chambers' face broke into a smile. “Skye, that's the best news ever. We've been praying every day that you would feel the need to turn your life over to God. And no, you don't need to wait until Sunday. You can do it right here — right now.”

“What do I do?” Skye asked.

Mrs. Chambers reached over and took Skye's hand.

“We can pray together right here,” Mr. Chambers responded. “Remember what we've said about God being so holy that sin can't exist in his presence? As a righ­teous judge, the sentence he requires for sin and rebellion is death. But as soon as the sentence was announced, God asked his own son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross in your place. And that's exactly what he did. Jesus wasn't guilty of anything, but he took all the sin of the world, including everything you've ever done wrong, and died for you so that you wouldn't have to.”

Skye couldn't believe what she was hearing. “You mean, I should have gotten the death penalty, but Jesus took it for me? I don't understand. Why would he do that?”

“He did that because he loves you, Skye, more than you will ever fully know. Tell you what,” Mr. Chambers said, placing his cup on a table, “let's pray right now. God doesn't expect any fancy words, Skye. All he wants to know is that you want to accept his wonderful gift and receive forgiveness.”

Folding her hands, Skye bowed her head. Different from all the other times she had prayed, she closed her eyes, concentrating on Jesus, the one who had always loved her in spite of her faults.