How To Steal a Car

by Pete Hautman

  “I just thought you might have mentioned something to somebody about Alton’s Hummer.”

  “Nope.”

  “You haven’t said anything to anybody?”

  “Nope.”

  I believed him. Unlike Jen, Will Ford did not lie.

  I said, “I think Deke knows we did it.” I put the we in there mostly because I didn’t want to be alone, although for all I knew the car theft that Deke had found out about could have been the Nissan or the Cadillac. Or he might even have seen me that night driving around in my dad’s Lexus.

  Will said, “That’s not good.”

  The next day I saw Marshall at Charlie Bean’s again. He looked all pale and red-eyed and jerky, like he was on his hundredth cup of espresso. He was playing a game on his cell phone, moving these little blocks around. His fingernails were gnawed to the bleeding point. It made me all squeamy inside to look at him.

  I asked him why he and Deke thought I was a car thief.

  “Deke said you deep-sixed Wright’s Hummer,” he said, not looking up from his game.

  “Well, it’s not true.”

  Marshall shrugged, intent on his game.

  “Why would he say that?”

  “Ask him. Shit!” He slammed his palm down on the table. “Level seven!”

  Like I would know what he was talking about.

  “Where can I find him?” I asked.

  Marshall shrugged again, then said, “I bet you could catch him at the mall. Food court.” He grinned, showing me his scummy teeth. “Look around, you’ll spot him.”

  Marshall was right. Deke was sitting at one of the bench tables in the food court with a slice of sausage pizza and a Red Bull. I walked up just as he took an enormous bite.

  “Hey, if it isn’t the booster girl,” he said, not bothering to chew and swallow first. “I hear you been stalking me.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Marsh called and warned me,” he said.

  I sat down across from him.

  “So what’s up?” he asked.

  “I want to know what makes you think I stole a car.”

  I waited as he finished his slice and washed it down with Red Bull. He was enjoying himself.

  “I saw you,” he said.

  I waited some more.

  “I couldn’t believe it. Alton Wright’s Hummer, that was so cool.”

  “You saw?”

  “I was sitting right across the Pit, having a smoke. I see you and that scrawny what’s-his-name get out of the Hummer and, y’know, I was thinking I had me some good weed, but not hallucinating good, and then you went and sank yourself. Laughed my ass off. Surprised you guys didn’t hear me.”

  “I was sort of busy trying not to drown.”

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  We sat for a few seconds without talking, me trying to figure out how to keep Deke from telling everybody what he’d seen, and worrying about it getting back to Alton Wright.

  Deke said, “I got busted for auto theft last year, y’know.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. That’s how come you didn’t see me around school.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Actually, me and Marsh, we were going for fifty, like in Gone in Sixty Seconds. You ever see that?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was stupid.”

  “No shit. But it was cool too. Anyway, Marsh and me got cracked on number fourteen. Both of us.”

  “You stole fourteen cars?”

  He put his hand over his heart. “I swear. Only I had to give it up.”

  I waited.

  “On account of I just turned eighteen. I got off with sixty days in juvie, plus probation, which I’m still on. That’s how come I’m working here now. Got to stay employed, be a productive member of society. I get nailed again, I’m screwed.” He stood up. “I’m going for another slice. Want one?”

  “I’ll take a Coke,” I said. I watched him saunter over to the Sbarro counter, walking like he knew I was watching him, which I was. I may not have mentioned that despite his ridiculous name and tough-guy attitude and retro-thug clothing, Deke was kind of okay-looking. Not that I was interested, but at least it wasn’t hard to look at him like it was with Marsh and a lot of other guys. Plus I wanted to know more about the car thing. I knew Deke had been in trouble the year before, but I hadn’t realized it was for auto theft. I’d figured it was more like vandalism or stealing garden gnomes. Knowing that he was a genuine criminal type made me trust him more. I know that sounds stupid, but I figured if he was a career criminal he’d be less likely to rat me out to Alton Wright or the police.

  When he returned with my Coke and another slice for himself, I asked him straight out, “You aren’t going to say anything to Alton about me and his Hummer, are you?”

  “Alton Wright is a rich piece of shit.” He looked me in the eye then, completely serious. “I think you should steal his new FJ and see if it floats.”

  It wasn’t exactly I-swear-on-all-that-is-holy-I-will-never-tell, but it was something, his letting me know we were on the same team.

  I felt myself relax, just a little.

  He said, “Y’know, what I said yesterday? I was serious. About making some money?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Look, you get caught doing something when you’re underage, they don’t do shit.”

  “They locked you up for two months.”

  “Yeah, but I already had a record. Plus, you’re a girl. Girls always get off easy.”

  I sat back and crossed my arms and looked at him. “You think I should become a professional car thief?”

  “I’m just saying you could make some money if you wanted. I still got the connections. I just can’t get caught behind the wheel. I—” He sat up straight. “Shit, my break’s been over for like three minutes.” He stood up and picked up an apron he’d been sitting on and a crushed paper cap. He punched the cap back into shape. Printed on the front were the words WOK ON THE WILD SIDE. With an embarrassed smile and a shrug, he put the cap on his head and tied on the apron. “Probation,” he said, and walked quickly across the food court to Wing’s Wild Wok.

  Two things I want to make clear. I did not have any sort of a thing for Deke Moffet. His first and last names alone were enough to rule that out.

  The other thing is that I was not seriously considering taking up car theft as a part-time job. The fact that I had—technically—stolen four cars recently was purely a matter of irresistible opportunity, dire necessity, or peer pressure. I mean, twice it hadn’t even been my idea. So the thought that I would perform grand theft auto for money was completely ridiculous.

  But I have to admit I was kind of flattered that he thought I could do it.

  As soon as I got outside the mall, Deke Moffet left my mind and was replaced by Jim Vail. I kept thinking how if my grandmother hadn’t died, I would have been the one up in Taylors Falls fighting off his drunken advances. Or maybe if it had been me, Jim wouldn’t have gotten so drunk. Or maybe I wouldn’t have fought him off. The point being that if it had been me instead of Jen, things would probably have gone differently. And if they hadn’t—if it had been me stuck in Taylors Falls in the middle of the night and I’d called Jen all teary and desperate—there’s no way she would have stolen a car to come get me. And now, since Jim had abandoned her in the wilderness, there was no way I, her best friend, could have anything to do with him, which made me kind of mad.

  As I waited for the bus to pick me up from the mall, I let my righteous anger build—not against Jim, but against Jen. I decided she was out to ruin my life, and I decided to confront her. By the time the bus arrived, I had rehearsed several versions of a conversation that would cause Jen to sob hysterically and beg my forgiveness. I imagined going to her house and barging into her room and blasting her with accusations.

  Instead, I went over to Will’s.

  Will was the middle kid of five, with two older sisters and two younger brothers. His grandmother lived with
them too, so there were like eight people in this little three-bedroom rambler. Will lived in the basement, but when I got there he was out in the backyard kicking a soccer ball with his brother Bobby.

  “Hey,” Will said when he saw me. He kicked the ball my way. I made a passable block and tried to kick it to Bobby, but I was off by about ten feet.

  “Sorry,” I called after him as he chased down the ball.

  “‘Sup?” Will asked.

  Bobby kicked the ball to Will, who grabbed it out of the air with his hands and held on to it. I could see the disappointment on Bobby’s face. My arrival had interrupted his quality time with big brother.

  “I talked to Deke,” I said.

  Will looked away. I wondered what it was like for a boy to get pantsed in public.

  I went on. “He was there at the Pit that night, smoking dope and watching us almost get drowned. That’s how he knew. But I don’t think he’s going to tell anybody. He doesn’t like Alton much either.”

  “He’s such a jerk,” Will said.

  I didn’t know if he was talking about Deke or Alton. Probably both. I wanted to tell Will about Deke getting caught stealing his fourteenth car and about him suggesting that I get into the auto theft business, but I didn’t because Deke and I had this unspoken agreement now. We were criminals together, and even though Will had been in on the Hummer thing, it just wasn’t the same.

  I said, “I’m mad at Jen.”

  That caught him by surprise. “Why?”

  I realized then that I couldn’t really talk about that either, because I couldn’t tell my sort-of boyfriend Will about Jim Vail, and I also couldn’t tell him about stealing the Hallsteds’ Cadillac, because that would lead right back to why Jen was stuck in Taylors Falls in the middle of the night. Besides, I did not want Will to think of me as a car thief any more than he already did.

  “It’s a girl thing,” I told him.

  “Jen’s nice,” Will said.

  “I know. I’m just being a bitch.” I shrugged. “You find a dead rat yet?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know. To hide in Alton’s new car.”

  “Oh. No.”

  “I bet you could find one over by the grain elevators. They must have lots of rats. I think they poison them.”

  “I’m not really so into the rat thing anymore. Even if I did it, it wouldn’t change anything. Alton would still be an ass.”

  “You sound like my mom.”

  “Your mom’s nice.”

  It was true. My mom is nice.

  How nice my mom is:

  When Mrs. Hallsted went to visit her sister in England, my mom invited Mr. Hallsted to have dinner with us every night for a week because she knew he didn’t cook.

  Whenever she sees a guy standing on a corner with a sign asking for money, she gives him a dollar.

  Every year on my birthday she makes shrimp scampi and red velvet cake, my two all-time favorite foods.

  When Jen or Will come over she always makes us some sort of snack.

  She never forgets to send a thank-you note, even when she doesn’t actually feel thankful.

  If you have ever exchanged more than one sentence with her you will get a Christmas card.

  She irons my T-shirts.

  There’s more, but you get the idea. My mother has dedicated her life to being a nice person. Now, you might be thinking that she must have a not-nice side, but you would be wrong. All of my mother’s sides are nice, which puts a lot of pressure on a person like me, who can be sort of nasty, even to her friends.

  I did not call Jen back for two days, even though she kept texting me. That might seem cruel, but the thing was, I knew if I talked to her I’d say something really nasty. But after two days I was feeling guilty for being mad at her so I called her and said (like nothing was ever wrong), “Let’s go check out the shoe situation at DSW.” Jen is crazy for shoes.

  “How come you haven’t called me?” she whined.

  I told her my phone was messed up. I’m pretty sure she knew I was lying.

  Designer Shoe Warehouse, by the way, is one of the worst places to buy shoes. They mostly deal in shoes nobody bought at full price because they’re ugly. But it is also the very best place to buy shoes, because it’s self-service and you can try on a hundred pairs and nobody makes you feel guilty for trying on too-small sizes, or not buying anything, or not putting socks on, and it’s mostly free because you hardly ever find anything you want to buy. So in a way it’s the perfect shoe-shopping experience if you don’t actually need new shoes.

  Will thinks it’s ridiculous that Jen and I like to shop when we are not planning to buy anything. He calls it “air shopping.” But what he doesn’t get is that we just might buy something—and that’s what keeps it interesting. Every now and then DSW will have the perfect pair of shoes in the right size and color and price. I bought my high-heeled strappies there. If I ever go to a formal I will have to learn how to walk in them.

  Jen said she was looking for some boots for fall.

  “Like elf boots,” she said.

  I knew exactly what she meant: pointy toes, soft floppy leather around the ankles, low heels, but not too low. I figured her chances of finding such a thing at DSW were about as good as her chances of riding her bicycle to the moon. But like I said before, that was just fine.

  Me, I was hoping to find some black suede faux-athletic shoes, preferably with no stripes. Not likely, but then I didn’t have any money anyway, having invested heavily in important items such as Phrap-o-chinos, fast food, and cell phone bills.

  I could hardly imagine how I’d ever be able to afford a car. I mean, a car of my own.

  How I get money: My father gives it to me.

  He gives me an allowance of two hundred dollars a month, which is not as much as it seems like because half of it goes into a savings account for college. It used to be that all my money went into the college savings account. My parents opened it when I was practically a baby and put in a hundred dollars a month. When I was thirteen and started needing money desperately, my dad agreed to increase his contribution to my future. I now have more than twenty thousand dollars I can’t touch and a hundred bucks a month that I usually spend in like five days.

  I had made several attempts to negotiate my allowance upward. I even threatened to get a part-time job, which would probably interfere with my schoolwork. My dad called my bluff and said he thought it was a good idea, so I went out and applied for jobs at Macy’s, Starbucks, and Jamba Juice. Macy’s and Starbucks said no. The guy at Jamba Juice offered me a job, but the hours sucked and it was very minimum-wageish, so I decided to make do with my hundred a month plus the birthday money I always got from Grandpa John and a few other little driblets of cash like from selling my old bicycle to Jamie Weiss and emergency babysitting for my aunt Tessa’s two preschoolers, which was not worth the money but I kind of had to do it.

  Basically I was trying to live on about fifteen hundred dollars a year, which is pretty pathetic. It made me wonder how much a good car thief made. I would have to ask Deke if I ever ran into him again. Just out of curiosity, of course.

  The thing about shopping is that even if you shop with no intention of buying anything at all, it is nice to have money so that you know if you happen to come across some amazing bargain or the perfect pair of shoes, you can buy if you want. But with only three dollars in my purse, I was not having much fun at DSW.

  Jen was trying on everything in the store. I hadn’t said anything to her about how I was mad at her because every time my mouth wanted to bring it up it sounded really lame. I mean, except for screaming in my ear she hadn’t actually done anything wrong. So I just moped around the store, trying on shoes I hated, and some I didn’t hate but couldn’t afford, while Jen went up and down the aisles as if she was training for the Olympics speed-shopping event.

  And guess what. She found her elf boots. In the one-of-a-kind clearance racks. They were pearl gray, her third-favorite color. Marke
d down 70 percent to $38.99.

  They fit her perfectly.

  “It’s a miracle,” she said.

  I was raging jealous, especially when she paid for them with her mom’s credit card. I might have said something nasty if I could have thought of anything, but I was rendered speechless by the unfairness of it all. Then Jen took me out to Sammy Wong’s for spring rolls and firecracker shrimp—also on her mom’s card. I couldn’t stay mad at her.

  I am such a total bitch inside for some reason, even though mostly I don’t show it. But the things I think—sometimes I’m surprised they don’t just claw their way out through my skin.

  Walking home from the bus stop, I saw Jim Vail. He was running down the sidewalk—running as in exercising—but he stopped when he saw it was me.

  “Hey. Kelleigh Monahan,” he said, dripping sweat and trying to control his breathing.

  “Hi,” I said. “How was Taylors Falls?”

  “Fun!” He dragged a sweaty hand across his sweaty brow. “Only we lost Jen.” He laughed weakly. “I suppose you heard about that?”

  “Yeah, I had to go pick her up.”

  “Oh. So she’s okay and everything?” I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or not because he was already red in the face from running.

  I was thinking, Why didn’t you call her to find out? But I didn’t say that. I didn’t really want him to call her, because if he was a nasty drunken almost-rapist I didn’t want him anywhere near my best friend…unless it had just been a misunderstanding and he was really a nice guy like I’d thought before. Then maybe I wanted him for myself. Someday.

  “She’s fine,” I said.

  “We’re selling the puppies this week,” he said. “You still want one?”

  “You mean buy one?”

  “Sure—what did you think? They’re worth four hundred bucks each.”

  “I don’t think I can afford it,” I said. Not that it made any difference, since there was no way I could bring a dog home, but it bugged me that he didn’t offer to give me one for free, especially since I distinctly remembered him offering me one. At least I thought at the time that was what he meant. Maybe if his mom hadn’t yelled down the stairs the dog would have been for free. Even though there was no way I could have taken it.