Car Trouble

by Jeanne DuPrau

  Bonnie closed the door. She was about to say something to Duff when a shriek of rage sounded from the back of the house. Somewhere up a hall, a door was flung open. Rapid steps approached. And then Aunt Shirley appeared in the living room, her face bunched up in fury.

  “It’s happened again! I can’t stand it. Cannot, cannot stand it.”

  “Stand what?” said Bonnie.

  “This freezing and crashing! Six times already this week it’s done it. And I had just written the most thrilling passage! Which is lost, of course, I’ll never be able to re-create it.” She staggered into the kitchen and sank onto a chair. “Maybe it’s time for me to go back to writing by hand, as I used to. My fountain pen never did this to me.”

  Duff cleared his throat. “If you like,” he said, “I could take a look at it for you.”

  “You may if you want,” said Aunt Shirley, “though I’m afraid it’s going to take someone who really knows what he’s doing to fix it.”

  “He does know what he’s doing,” said Bonnie. “He’s a computer genius.”

  “Last time this happened,” said Aunt Shirley, “I had a whole team here from Lizard Computer, and it took them hours. And as you can see, they only fixed it temporarily.”

  A possibility was occurring to Duff, a thrilling possibility. He was being handed the chance he’d wanted to do something wonderful—and without Stu around to mess it up. Here it was, the very thing he knew best in the world. His heart started up a little rappety-rap in his chest. “I’m pretty sure,” he said, “I could fix it for you in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Really?” Aunt Shirley raised her slim eyebrows. “Well, no harm in trying. Come this way.”

  Duff turned to Bonnie and said, “You come, too, all right? I might need, um, help.”

  Bonnie shrugged and followed. On the way down the hall, she told Shirley that some friends of her mother’s had come to take the Chevy back to St. Louis, and she wouldn’t have to drive out and pick it up from the gas station after all. “Good,” said Shirley. “I have enough problems without that.”

  So they were friends of her mother’s, Duff thought. No wonder they looked like thugs.

  The studio of LaDonna Wildmoor was neat and organized and mainly pink. The walls were pink, the carpet was pink, and the covers of the books lined up on the shelves seemed to be mostly pink, too. The computer on the desk was gray, but it had been decorated with pink stickers shaped like hearts. On the screen was a message saying “Error #889bxj54. Source code unknown.” Other than the message, the screen was blank.

  All right. If Duff had been wearing long sleeves, he would have rolled them up. He tried to organize his thoughts. But his thoughts resisted being organized, because of Bonnie. She had draped herself over a long lounge chair in the corner, leaning back on the pink pillows, and settled herself to watch. Duff felt like a magician about to do an elaborate trick.

  Focus, focus, he told himself. He sat down in front of the computer. All right: Why is this thing crashing?

  Software conflicts, most likely. He restarted the computer. While it was coming up, he asked Aunt Shirley questions. What operating system was she running? What word processing application did she use? What version? What other stuff? To most of these questions she didn’t know the answer. “I don’t deal with the technical,” she said. “My realm is the creative.”

  “This is pretty boring so far,” said Bonnie from the chaise.

  “I need to download some programs,” said Duff. “Can we go online?”

  Aunt Shirley typed in her screen name and password, and then Duff zoomed around in cyberspace, finding version 2.03 of this and version 3.1 of that. While they downloaded, he waited awkwardly, wishing he knew the sort of patter that magicians use between tricks. Aunt Shirley, fortunately, filled in the silence.

  “It was so good, that last paragraph, the one that’s lost. I’ll never remember it. Something like, ‘Her eyes, those hyacinthine eyes, held secrets his heart yearned to know…’ No, it wasn’t yearned, it was more like ‘held secrets that called to his heart from a distant place…’”

  Duff thought, as he installed the conflict detection program on Aunt Shirley’s hard disk, that he wasn’t sure what color Bonnie’s eyes were. Maybe hyacinthine? Or were they sort of aqua? He was consumed with a sudden desire to know. But he didn’t turn around. “Now,” he said, “I’ll run the conflict detection program.” He did so. Checked the results. “Looks like you need an upgrade to a couple of your applications,” he said. “I’ll just pull those down for you.” He was moving fast, talking casual, aiming to give an impression of effortless mastery.

  “See?” said Bonnie. “I told you he knows what he’s doing.”

  Duff smiled. This was going well.

  “Are you sure you can’t get that paragraph back?” said Aunt Shirley. “It was one of my most lovely passages.”

  “If you didn’t save it, it’s gone,” said Duff. “But I’m sure you have many beautiful passages in you.”

  He flicked from one website to another. “While I’m at it,” he said, “I’ll get you a little bonus item—like a thank-you present for giving us a ride.” A nice audio player, maybe, for her romantic music. Or an interesting screensaver. He found a site with lots of choices—flowers, fish, spiders, kittens, cupids, swirling fractals in neon colors.

  A hand settled lightly on his shoulder. Bonnie leaned down to look at the screen and spoke close to his ear. “Oooh, those are cool,” she said. “Get her one of those.”

  And Duff almost lost it. A bolt of lightning went through him, his hand got unsteady, and instead of clicking the Heart-and-Cupid screensaver, he clicked the Tarantula Army screensaver, and hordes of hairy spiders began crawling across Shirley’s monitor.

  Shirley shrieked.

  “Wait a sec,” Duff said. “No problem, I just—”

  “I knew it!” Shirley cried. “I never should have let you touch my computer!”

  “Calm down,” said Bonnie. “It’s just a little—”

  “What does it mean? What does it mean?” screamed Shirley. “Is everything lost?”

  “No, no,” said Duff, frantically maneuvering. He was so flustered he couldn’t get the blasted spiders off the screen. Bonnie was still peering over his shoulder. He could feel her breathing on his neck.

  Shirley grabbed his arm and pulled. “Get away from there!” she cried. “Get away before you do anything worse! I’m calling Lizard right now!”

  Bonnie gripped Shirley’s belt and yanked on it to get her away from Duff. “Let him fix it!” she said. “Leave him alone!”

  In another second, Duff would have been tipped out of his chair onto the floor and probably clawed to shreds by Shirley’s long pink fingernails. But just as he was about to lose his balance, he managed to make the spiders disappear. Shirley let go of him. Quickly, he clicked the Heart-and-Cupid screensaver, and when the rosy little cupids appeared, floating back and forth across the monitor, Shirley started breathing normally again. “Oh,” she said. “Well, that’s rather nice. And is my chapter still there?”

  “Certainly,” said Duff. “All but the part you hadn’t saved when the system went down.”

  “See?” said Bonnie. “I told you he could do it.”

  “And the crashing problem,” Duff said. “I fixed that, too. You shouldn’t have any more trouble.”

  “Well, thank you,” said Shirley. “I’m sorry I got a little upset. I’m severely arachnophobic.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Duff. Bonnie was smiling at him. A warm, humming feeling came over him, as if the pinkness of the room had seeped into his veins and was making him glow.

  Then footsteps sounded in the hall, and a moment later, Stu appeared in the doorway. “Hey, everybody,” he said, “what’s happening?” No one answered, so he carried on. “Ms. Hopgood, can I ask you a question? It’s about your car.”

  Chapter 15

  THE THIRD CAR

  “Yes?” said Aunt Shirley. She was
already sitting at her computer, bringing up her almost-lost chapter. She didn’t turn to look at Stu, so he went around to the side and spoke to her profile.

  “You know your car? The Toyota? Bonnie says you’re selling it.”

  Aunt Shirley nodded, intent on the screen.

  “So what I wondered is, how much are you asking? ’Cause I’d like to buy it.”

  When Duff heard this, two feelings arose in him at almost the same time. One was hope. If Stu bought that car, then he, Duff, had a way to get to California. Immediately following was shame: he had vowed to have nothing more to do with Stu from here on. Would he betray his conscience for a ride? He was afraid he might.

  “Four thousand,” said Aunt Shirley.

  Two more feelings surfaced in Duff: disappointment (Stu couldn’t possibly pay that much) and relief (he wouldn’t be tempted to betray his conscience after all).

  “Okay,” said Stu. “If I give you cash, could you make it thirty-five hundred?”

  And then came the strongest feeling of all: astonishment. Stu had thirty-five hundred in cash? Followed by suspicion: where did he get it?

  Duff glanced at Bonnie. She met his eyes for an instant and gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders. She was mystified, too.

  But Aunt Shirley was ready to seize the deal. Stu went to get the money out of his backpack, and when he came back, they carried out the transaction right there in her office. Duff watched in amazement as Stu counted out a stack of big-number bills, and Aunt Shirley took the pink slip out of her file cabinet and signed it over to him. “This saves me the trouble of advertising,” she said. “Really, both you boys have been so helpful.”

  For a moment, a very good feeling and a very bad feeling fought for control in Duff. The battle was so equal that they canceled each other out. He stood there in the pink office feeling blank and stunned.

  By then it was dinnertime. Aunt Shirley showed her appreciation by cooking up a meal: spaghetti with low-fat mushroom sauce, iceberg lettuce with low-fat ranch dressing, and white bread spread with a low-fat butter-like substance. How could a person live on stuff like this? Duff wondered. Though he’d eaten hardly anything all day, he didn’t have much appetite, not only because of the food, but because the stunned feeling had gone away and his mind was in turmoil. Once again, his conscience was ordering him to confront Stu. He didn’t want to. He wanted to ride quietly with Stu to Los Angeles and there say good-bye to him forever. But he couldn’t. That wad of bills had pushed things over the line. Stu was up to something, and Duff couldn’t just let it slide.

  So after dinner, while Bonnie did the dishes and Shirley went back to her office, Duff said to Stu, “Come outside with me for a minute and let’s make a plan.”

  They went into Aunt Shirley’s backyard, where lawn chairs with flowered cushions sat on a concrete terrace beside a turquoise swimming pool. The sun was disappearing in a haze behind the house.

  “Listen,” said Duff. He was nervous but determined. “I have to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay,” Stu said. “What?”

  “Come over here.” Duff led Stu around to the other side of the pool, away from the open windows of the house. “I have to ask you this,” he said, “because…I just do.”

  “Ask away,” said Stu.

  Duff braced himself for the possible psychotic break. He took a deep breath. “First of all: What really happened in Amarillo? When you disappeared like that?”

  Stu looked into the glimmering swimming pool water. He looked up at the sunset. Then he said, “I spotted someone I used to know. Wow, was I surprised! A guy from Florida. So I went after him. And we hung out for a while, talking.”

  “I don’t buy it,” said Duff. “Give me the truth.” He was surprised to hear himself sounding so tough. Maybe that moment in the kitchen with Bonnie, when he’d managed to just say no to fear, had activated a whole new subroutine of his personality program.

  “Hey, watch it, man.” Stu scowled. “Are you saying I’m a liar?”

  “I am,” said Duff firmly. “And if you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll tell Aunt Shirley you’re an escaped convict on the run, and that the money you gave her for the car was stolen loot.”

  Stu frowned at the diving board for several seconds. He frowned down at his feet, dusty in their sandals. Then he said, “Okay, listen, it’s nothing so terrible. You remember I mentioned about how my parents wanted me to join the military? And how I was in a little bit of trouble?”

  “Yes,” Duff said.

  “Well, the trouble was, I borrowed a guy’s car. Just for a little ride, you know? It was kind of a valuable car. And accidentally I banged it up some. It wasn’t my fault! Some idiot in front of me made a left turn from the right-hand lane. But the guy was pretty mad.”

  “The guy who owned the car?”

  “Right. He happened to be kind of a big shot. Big freakin’ businessman in town, and kind of fanatic about his cars. He wanted me to get a job and pay for it, which would have taken like a hundred years. My parents were pushing me to join the military and make a man out of myself. I didn’t like those options, so I left. I gotta have freedom, man!”

  “So what does that have to do with disappearing in Amarillo?”

  “I saw a guy in the park and I thought it was him. Looked just like him. I was sure he’d come searching for me. So I got out of there as fast as I could. Spent some time exploring the back alleys of the Amarillo shopping district.”

  “And that’s why we took the scenic route to Albuquerque?”

  “Right.” Stu grinned his big-toothed grin and held his hands out to his sides, palms facing the sky, the picture of innocence now that he’d confessed. “That’s it,” he said. “You’re not going to turn me in, are you? And send me back to a life of torture and misery?”

  “I have another question,” Duff said, pressing on. “What about that money?”

  “What about it?” Stu asked.

  “Where did you get it? Hitchhiking surfers don’t usually go around with big wads of cash in their pockets.”

  “None of your business,” said Stu. He smiled, but Duff could see a little quiver at the corner of his mouth.

  “All right,” said Duff. “I’m calling Shirley.” He turned toward the house and took a few steps. But before he got far, Stu grabbed his arm.

  “Okay, okay, listen,” he said. “I found that money. I found it, okay? Finders keepers, right?”

  “Found it where?” said Duff.

  “In the Chevy,” said Stu. “I was just looking over the car, you know? Checking it out. Such a great car. Happened to look under the floor of the trunk and hey. There it was.”

  “How much was there?”

  “A lot.”

  “How much?”

  “Well, I haven’t had time to count every bit. More than twenty thousand, though.”

  “But it isn’t yours.”

  “Whose is it, then? Huh? Bonnie’s mom’s?” Stu stretched his head forward and skewered Duff with his eyes. Duff took a step back, being careful not to fall in the pool. “That was stolen money, man. That money belongs to me just as much as it does to her.”

  “It does not,” said Duff. “It belongs to whoever she stole it from. The police ought to have it, not you. I ought to call them right this minute.” Duff held on to his new tough-guy style, but he was feeling uncertain. If he did call the cops, he’d have to prove somehow that Stu stole the money. Aunt Shirley would probably get hysterical, and Bonnie might get in trouble. Also, he’d have to sit on Stu or tie him up to keep him from running off before the cops arrived. It all sounded complicated. And on top of everything, he’d be left without his ride to Los Angeles.

  These thoughts ran through his mind in a few nanoseconds and produced, to his surprise, an idea. “Or,” he said, “I could make you a deal.”

  “What deal?” Stu squinched up his eyes suspiciously.

  “You drive me to Los Angeles. You sell the car. You send the money—all of it—b
ack to Bonnie. She can do whatever she thinks is right.”

  Stu thought about this, pursing his mouth and tilting his head to the side. Finally, he said, “Okay. It’s a deal.” He sighed. “You know, man, I’m not really into crime. I mean, not in a big way. I saw that money in there, and what could I do? There wasn’t any reason not to take it. The only person who knew it was there wouldn’t be needing it. Even if it was hers, which it wasn’t.” Stu kicked off his sandals and sat down at the edge of the pool. He dunked his feet in the water and kept talking. “I thought, well, with this kind of cash I can even do a little good to make up for the evil way it was gotten. Give some to homeless folks, maybe. Stuff like that.”

  He looked up hopefully at Duff, who was standing next to him. He wants me to tell him it’s all okay, Duff thought. And he’s a great guy and everything is forgiven. Well, I’m not going to.

  “I didn’t like carrying around that much cash anyhow,” Stu said, flicking one foot upward so that glistening blobs of water flew into the air. “Made me nervous. Fine with me to unload it on Bonnie.” He grinned at Duff. “So off to LA in the morning, huh?”

  “Right,” said Duff, keeping his face stern. “We’ll start early. Seven o’clock.”

  “Okeydoke,” said Stu.

  Duff left him there by the pool and went back into the house, where he plunked himself down on a couch with a view of the backyard. He was going to keep his eye on Stu if he had to stay awake all night to do it. The worst thing he could think of would be to wake up in the morning and find that Stu and the Toyota and the money had all vanished into the burning Southwest air.

  *

  The rest of the evening started out really well. Bonnie didn’t exactly sing, but she sat on the floor and strummed her guitar and hummed, which was almost as good. Stu swam in the pool for a long time, back and forth, back and forth, jerking his head to flip wet coils of hair out of his eyes every time he came up for air. Duff sat on the couch, listening to Bonnie, keeping an eye on Stu, and leafing through a romance magazine he found on the coffee table. It amazed him that some people actually liked these kinds of stories, where women with raven black hair or golden curls were always melting into the arms of men with names like Thorn and Drake. Every now and then he read some especially corny lines out loud, and Bonnie laughed.