Road Trip (6 page)

“I could listen to this engine purr for a long time,”
Gus says. He’s sitting in the seat behind Dad, clutching a wrench and eyeing the gizmos on the dashboard, hoping, I guess, that something goes wrong under the hood.

“The further the better,” Theo says. “And it’s good to see some other sights.” He tries not to, but throws a quick glance in Mia’s direction. She notices and blushes. Atticus growls at Theo and I hide my smile.

“Dude, I think your dog is into Mia,” Theo says under his breath.

“That makes three of us,” I whisper back.

He laughs. “Yeah.”

“I was born to travel,” Mia says, breaking up our huddle, “like maybe I’ve got gypsy blood.” She suggested road bingo, Twenty Questions, I Spy, the alphabet game, and Slug Bug, but no one took her up. She must be making a list of license plates, because she happily whispers “Nevada” or “Vermont” to herself and scribbles in her notebook. I take a picture of Atticus resting his head in her lap.

Dad says, “I’ve been itching to take a trip for a long time.”

Who asked you to chip in, Mr. It’ll All Work Out? Then it hits me: I’ve been with Dad for hours and we’ve barely talked. And my mother’s been trying to reach me all day, but it’s easy to avoid her. I could stay on the road forever. Or until my parents get their business straightened out. If they can’t afford hockey camp, can they
afford me anymore? Could I have myself declared emancipated? It’s extreme, I know, but it’d be so cool living on my own. Maybe Theo and I could get a place and—

“STOP THE BUS!” Gus roars. The tires squeal and leave black smoking skid marks on the asphalt as Dad stamps on the brakes and the bus comes to a shuddering stop in the gravel on the shoulder of the road. Atticus is barking like a lunatic.

Dad leaps up and hurls himself down the stairs. I’m on my feet before I know what’s going on, flying up the aisle, hot on Dad’s heels, charging to the front door. When Dad and I clear the bus and land on the pavement, we look behind the bus. There’s a burning car on the side of the road about twenty yards from where we’ve stopped.

The car has a few flames darting out from under the hood. Dad and I sprint to the car in what feels like less than a second. He won’t let me close enough to see if anyone’s inside—he’s trying to stay between me and the car. We’re squinting through the smoke from a few feet away, but we can’t see inside. Dad takes another step toward the passenger door, shoving me farther behind him. I surge forward, shoulder to shoulder with Dad. Just then, the burning engine makes a freaky, deep
wa-hump
and the flames leap up. I hear Mia scream. Atticus barks and Gus shouts, “Get back!”

Dad leaps backwards, yanking me with him. He waves the smoke away from his eyes but keeps heading for the car.

“Wait! I’ll be right back.” I pull Dad away from the car and gesture toward the bus.

I remember having seen a fire extinguisher by the driver’s seat, so I race back, catapult myself up the steps, wrench it free, and tear back. Dad’s circling the car, trying to get closer. He’s got an arm in front of his face, still trying to look inside the car. I push him out of the way, but my hands are shaking so hard I can’t hold the nozzle. He takes the extinguisher from me and points it toward the engine while he squeezes the lever. A spray of white foam muffles the flames and the fire is out. Dad and I take a closer look inside. Empty. All that worry for an abandoned car.

We each take a deep breath. I don’t know about him, but I’m shaking all over and my eyes are watering from the smoke. I look in the ditch at the side of the road: no one. Dad’s scanning the road in both directions. Neither of us can see anyone who might have been driving the car.

All this time cars have been passing us by on the highway. Not a single person stopped to help, though plenty slowed down to look. It was just Dad and me.

We turn back toward the bus. Gus is bent over, catching his breath. From trying to run, I guess. He
is
pretty
old. Mia’s patting his back, trying to get him to take a sip of water, talking on her cell phone. Who’s she calling—the fire department? The police? A news helicopter? They always seem to have footage like this on the evening news. Theo’s eyeing the car and pacing the shoulder. He keeps glancing at his phone and staring into the trees near the side of the road. The wet patches under his arms are back even though it was Dad and me who ran to the car. Atticus is glued to Theo’s side, his eyes locked on Theo.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” I tell Dad.

“And Gus said
I
was hard on my vehicle.” Dad laughs.

It’s the most we’ve spoken since this morning. Dad opens his mouth, but before he can speak I turn and walk to the bus. I’m not ready for a heart-to-heart yet, even though we did just save each other’s butts. I’m too shaky. We walk in silence but I reach over and grab his arm when he stumbles a little. We pretend not to notice. Or that I’m leaning on him, too.

“You guys are so brave.” Mia throws her arms around me and squishes me in a big hug. I’m having trouble breathing, but I don’t try to pull away. “The rest of us didn’t know what was going on. But you ran toward the fire without a second thought. Like you knew exactly what to do.”

“It was boneheaded,” Gus says, scratching his head,
“but you looked pretty fine doing it. Crazy.” He pats Dad and me on our shoulders.

Theo doesn’t say anything; his thumbs are flying over his phone. I hope he’s telling all his friends what Dad and I just did. It’d be cool to have the word spread around town before we get home. He probably took pictures; I’ll have to ask him to forward some to me later. Atticus whines a little as he leans against Theo’s leg. Poor guy. I sit next to him on the shoulder of the road and wrap my arms around his neck. He licks my cheek and I feel the shaking start to fade. My hands feel steadier the longer I pet him.

A cop car, an ambulance, and a fire truck come screaming down the highway, followed by a tow truck. Mia must have called everyone. I take the pictures of the men as they climb out of their rigs. It must be boring for them—nothing but a smoking car, four shaky people standing around, and an anxious border collie. And Theo pacing back and forth, texting.

Dad walks over to the policeman, who jots notes as Dad gestures at the car. The paramedics start for us, but we wave them away with thumbs-up; no one’s hurt here. They get back in the ambulance and take off. Once the firefighters see that the fire is out, they climb back onto their truck. The tow truck guy loads the ruined car onto his flatbed. I snap a picture, kicking myself that I didn’t think to take out my phone when the engine was still on
fire. That would have been the most dramatic picture I ever took. I’ll have to ask Theo if he took pictures or just stood there texting.

“I never saw a car fire before,” I say.

“As these things go,” Mia says, “it was pretty tame. Sometimes the tires explode.”

“Why do you know so much about burning cars?”

“I dated a guy who was kind of known for car fires.”

“How does someone get known for
that
?”

“Insurance scam. Getting rid of evidence. Making a point about territory. You know—there are lots of reasons to set fire to a car. He knew most of them.” Mia sounds almost … breezy.

“What kind of aura did
he
have?” I ask.

“Very dark and heavy.”

I look over at Theo to see his reaction. Nothing. He’s pacing and texting. Atticus is trotting back and forth next to Theo, his eyes never leaving the woods on the side of the road.

“What kind of riffraff have you gotten caught up with, missy?” Gus snaps. “Sounds like the kinda people who’ll steal from ya, gut ya, leave ya for dead in the ditch.” He notices Mia’s expression. “Don’t act so surprised. These things happen.”

Before Mia can answer, Dad heads over to us as the cop drives away. “Back in the bus. We’ve got a border collie pup waiting for us.”

We all climb on, and Dad pulls into traffic. Atticus must be rubbing off on Theo, because he keeps looking out the side windows and behind us. Atticus surprises me and sits not with Mia, but next to Theo. From my seat behind them, they look like their heads are connected, the way they swivel together looking out the windows. Theo pulls out his phone when he gets another text. It reminds me.

I send a text to my mom. I need a few screens to tell the whole story of Dad and me and the fire.

“Dad.” He nearly drives off the road at the sound of my voice. Can’t blame him after the silent treatment I’ve been giving him. “I just texted Mom, told her what happened.”

“Thanks, son. I better call her, reassure her we’re okay. Gotta call the girl who’s holding the dog for us, too, let her know—”

“—that we’re hopelessly lost but making good time.” I finish his sentence. It’s an inside joke from the Boy Scouts hiking trip we took a couple years ago.

It’s good to see Dad smile at me in the rearview mirror. I smile back, but just a little one so he knows we haven’t worked everything out yet.

The car that was on fire was the same one I saw Bobby sitting in outside Theo’s place.

As soon as he saw the car, Theo started looking along the side of the road. So did I. We didn’t see anyone. Theo stopped looking once he started texting. I kept looking. I couldn’t smell anything because of the smoke. I know Bobby’s smell from when I bit him this morning.

When the cop came, Theo pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt and kept his face down.

Theo’s ice cold when I lean against him, but he can’t stop sweating.

When we got back on the bus, he jammed all his stuff in his bag that had been on the seat next to him, and he’s holding the shoulder strap so tight his knuckles are white.

We’re both watching out the windows. Because someone is after him.

The Drag Race

“Uh, Dad? How fast are you going? It feels like we’re flying, and speeding in a bright yellow school bus isn’t the kind of thing that slips under the radar.”

Radar.

As soon as the word leaves my mouth, I know I’ve jinxed us. Sure enough, I hear the sirens and see the lights from behind. Dad mutters to himself and jerks the bus to the side of the road, spewing shoulder dust and pebbles in our wake.

“Another cop.” Theo sighs and rubs his face.

“Another ticket.” Dad sighs and rubs
his
face.

“Another delay.” Mia bites her lip. “I know your dad says it’ll all work out, but I’m worried about getting the dog in time.”

She’s not the only one. His picture flashes through
my mind and I get edgy. I hope Dad’s been keeping in touch with the shelter to let them know we’re on the way.

Gus turns in his seat to watch the cop walk to the bus from where he pulled in behind us. “Yup, we just blew past the duck pond. That’s what they call the place off the highway right outside of town where cops sit an’ wait fer fools to speed.”

“Walked right into that one,” Dad agrees.

We all stand and exit the bus together. The cop is the poster child for the police academy. Spic and span. I straighten up and square my shoulders as he approaches. Theo slumps against the side of the bus. Has he been wearing that baseball hat all day? I don’t think so, but now the brim is pulled down so low I can’t even catch his eye.

Mia smiles and waves, like this might be a social call. The cop raises a hand to wave back but then tries to act as if he’s lifting his arm to gesture to Dad to move closer to him. Nice save.

Dad walks toward the cop and Atticus follows. I suddenly realize our dog is not on a leash, nor does he have a license or ID tag on his collar. My mouth is too dry to whistle Atticus back to me. I can only hope this guy has a soft spot for dogs and won’t add an off-leash violation to our ticket.

And I know we’re going to get a ticket by the way the
officer taps his citation book against his thigh. Dad’s gotten a ton of speeding tickets. The last one was this morning. So I should be used to the routine by now. But there’s something about a law officer walking toward us writing a ticket that puts fear into my gut.

“Good afternoon, Officer. How fast did you clock me?” Dad asks. I wish I didn’t know that he wants to find out if he’s broken his personal record.

The cop looks uncomfortable.

“I don’t need independent confirmation to know that that bus was going well in excess of posted speed guidelines.”

“Oh, well, then: How about you let me off with a warning? I’ll drive more slowly, and we can all be on our way.” Dad’s negotiating. That’s how he describes trying to hustle out of a ticket.

“Do you have a license to drive a bus, sir?”

“Yes, I do!” Dad pulls out his driver’s license and hands it to the cop with a big grin. “And I’ll save you looking it up on the computer: I already got a ticket for speeding today.”

“Sir, this is not a joke. Keeping the roads safe is the duty of every driver and every police officer.”

“Aren’t you going a
little
overboard?” Dad asks.

“Uh … Dad?” Giving the cop a hard time? That’s the
best
idea you have right now? My head’s about to explode. I glance over at the cop and see the nameplate
pinned next to his badge:
Sgt. Laurence
. I wish
everyone
wore a name tag; this is the third time today it’s come in handy.