“You hungry?” he asks, getting out of the car to walk over to us. He’s holding bags of burgers and fries, while Vic has a tray full of soft drinks.
“Always,” I say as we walk toward one of the picnic tables.
As we’re eating, Evan interrupts with his usual jokes and puns, but fails in his attempt to get me to squirt Coke through my nose. Whenever I laugh, he looks at me so kindly. Maybe because he’s looking me in the eyes for a change, he seems different. Or maybe it’s me.
“Here’s your money back.” I take the unspent cash and hand it to Evan.
“It’s his,” Evan says, pointing at Vic.
“Thanks,” I say, but no doubt the worry shows as I ask, “Where did you get this?”
“I liquidated some remaining assets from my portfolio,” Vic says, then winks.
“What?” Ashley asks.
“I waited until Reid wasn’t home, busted in, stole back a bunch of shit I stole for him, then pawned it all over Flint, Saginaw, and Bay City. I figure he owes me, and there’s nothing he can do to me now because I’m not one of his flunkies anymore.” Vic laughs, but then turns all serious talking right at Evan. “That’s it, I’m done.”
“You’ve said that before,” Evan says, sounding more sad than angry.
“I mean it, I’m done,” Vic says, then looks at me. “You believe me, Danielle, right?”
“Yeah, I do,” I say to Vic, but I’m looking at Evan. “You gotta have a little faith.”
“I wish I had enough bills left to get some new wheels. Then I’d be so gone,” Vic says.
“Here,” I say to Vic as I flip him the keys to the Viper.
“What are you doing?” Evan asks.
“Evan, I’m giving you a chance to give me and Ashley a ride home,” I say.
“Are you sure?” Vic asks.
“Positive,” I tell him and I get a big hug from him in return.
Vic squeezes the keys, like a charm. “Finally, some good luck.”
“Tell us where to send your stuff,” Evan says, but Vic shakes his head.
“There’s nothing in Flint I want or need,” Vic replies. “I’m gonna start fresh.” He pulls Evan aside, hugs him, and whispers something in his ear. He starts toward the Viper but stops when I yell after him.
I run to catch him, then say, “You know that old song you told me about the other day?”
“Which one?” Vic asks, looking puzzled.
“The one about how even losers get lucky sometimes,” I say, then whisper, “Well, Vic, maybe this isn’t luck, and you and Evan for sure aren’t losers.”
I’d like to think Vic is still smiling at what I said as he roars out of the rest stop driving Reid’s Viper not just across the county line, but into the next and best part of his life.
• • •
“Call me later, okay?” Ashley says as Evan pulls up in front of her house. It’s the first thing she’s said in about an hour. She sat in silence, staring out the window, and we just let her be. I’d given her the front seat next to Evan, even though I wanted to be next to him. I vowed that when I start driving—legally, that is—I’ll never make Ashley sit in the backseat again.
“Is she okay?” Evan asks as soon as Ashley climbs out of the car.
“She’ll be okay,” I reply, hoping my confidence in her turns into strength.
Waving me to come into the front, Evan says, “How about you, Danielle?”
“I think I’m going to be okay too,” I answer, quickly moving out of the backseat. Then we drive away; Evan keeps both hands on the wheel, while I keep both eyes on him.
“Really?” Evan says.
“Well, I guess it depends,” I say, moving closer to him.
“On what?”
“I relish the chance to ketchup with an old friend,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“That’s quite the pickle,” he replies. “Where does this friend work?”
“Halo Burger,” I tell him.
“He must be an angel,” Evan cracks, and I laugh. I’ve danced with the devil, or something like it, but all along I’ve had this adoring if somewhat annoying angel watching over me. The things we want are always so far out of reach, while the things we need can be so close if we’d just listen to our better intentions.
I get out of the car quickly at my house. I don’t want to ruin the smooth, friendly exchanges of the last few minutes with an awkward moment at my front door. I give Evan the “I’ll call you” sign instead of a kiss. He smiles, not a crescent moon, but definitely sincere.
• • •
There’s a note from Mom on the table to call her at work. I try her once, but she’s too busy to say much other than how glad she is that I’m home. She sounds more relieved than angry, so forgiveness may follow. I fall down on my bed, bone-tired from the past few days.
I’m not sure how long I’d slept when I hear a loud banging at the front door. Mom mentioned Carl had a softball game, which probably turned into a beer-drinking contest. I try ignoring the pounding, but it’s too loud. I curse Carl’s name and go to the front door.
Reid is standing on the three-step porch, with Angie sitting in a black Mustang Cobra behind him. I crack open the door, but first put on the chain lock.
“Where’s my Viper?” Reid says, almost ripping the screen off the hinge.
“It’s gone,” I say.
“You bitch,” he hisses.
“How does it feel to lose something you love?” I shout back at him.
“You fat ugly bitch,” he says, kicking at the door. “You’re in for it.”
“What are you going to do, Reid?” I say as I push against the door, which seems ready to give.
His mouth stays quiet, while his foot continues to kick the door. I take a quick look at the phone, and try to figure how quickly I can get it and dial 911 before he knocks anything down. “I’ll be happy to call the police if you want, Reid!” He answers with another kick.
“Fuck you, Danielle!” Reid shouts, then kicks the door so hard the wood splinters.
“No, fuck you!” I hear Carl’s voice from the other side of the door, followed by loud noises. After about a minute, I hear Carl shout, “Danny, you okay?”
I open the door to see Carl standing at the foot of the porch. He’s swinging his softball bat over his head like a helicopter blade. Reid’s on the ground, holding his left leg.
“Unless you want some more of this, you’ll get out of here now. And don’t fucking come back here or I’ll do worse!” Carl shouts at Reid. Reid stares at me, at Carl, and then at Angie.
“Reid, are you hurt?” Angie asks, shooting an angry glare at me.
“Stay in the car,” he shouts. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Reid crawls back into the car, pushing himself behind the wheel.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Carl asks as we both watch Reid’s taillights disappear.
“Thanks, Carl,” I say, avoiding his eyes.
“Well, watch yourself,” Carl says, pointing the bat at me.
I pause, then reach out to take the bat from him, asking, “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” he asks, handing me the softball bat, his temporary sword of honor.
“Protect me,” I mumble.
“You’re part of my family.” Carl moves closer to me, but doesn’t reach out with his arms; his actions have already said more than his words, even as he asks, “What’s going on?”
“It’s complicated,” I say. And then, with a rare smile aimed at Carl, I add, “A lot like families.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Stolen Car was test-driven by teenagers in New York, Connecticut, Michigan, Ohio, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. In particular, I want to acknowledge the following students from Hudson High School in Hudson, Wisconsin, who helped me: Zach Reams, Jesse Griem, Mike Heth, Kelsey Bosman, Leah Glodowski, Shelbi Ball, Bailey Boron, Lisa LaBeau, Madalyn Gibson, Maddie Karras, Maggie Whitacre, MacKenzee Nicely, Allison Hawthorne, Beth Tiedemann,
and Bradley Lindberg. Also thanks to other teens who lent me their eyes: Allison from Minnesota, Samantha aka Lolly Dreamer from the Creek in Michigan, as well as Gabby and Meredith from Connecticut. Also thanks to the “usual suspects”—Tricia Suellentrop, Amy Alessio, and Patricia Taylor—for their time, energy, and ideas. And always, thanks to Erica for her support.
ALSO BY PATRICK JONES
Things Change
Nailed
Chasing Tail Lights
Cheated
Copyright © 2008 by Patrick Jones
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First published in the United States of America in November 2008
by Walker Publishing Company, Inc., a division of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
E-book edition published in April 2011
www.bloomsburyteens.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Walker BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Jones, Patrick.
Stolen car / Patrick Jones.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Fifteen-year-old Danielle desperately wants to escape life with her mother and a series of “Dadwannabes,” so when best friends Ashley and Evan help her see that bad-boy Reid is lying and using her, Danny steals Reid’s car and takes Ashley on a road trip.
ISBN-13: 978-0-8027-9700-1 • ISBN-10: 0-8027-9700-8 (hardcover)
[1. Mothers and daughters—Fiction. 2. Family problems—Fiction. 3. Best friends—Fiction.
4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Automobile driving—Fiction. 6. Single-parent families—Fiction.
7. Flint (Mich.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.J7242Sto 2008 [Fic]—dc22 2008000253
ISBN 978-0-8027-2383-3 (e-book)
Stolen Car Page 17
