Bucky shrugged. “Whatever.”
Even now the other boy couldn’t resist a little jab. “What do you guys say? Just one room? Really make it a party night?”
All three students turned and glared at him. “Enough party already,” Tracy snapped. “Jeez!”
“I know. I know. Just kidding.” Jonathan shook his head defensively and muttered something inaudible to himself. “Go for it, Stone.”
Bucky and Tracy pulled open the door and entered the small motel lobby. A sleepy-looking woman in her early fifties set down a novel and peered out at them. “What do you kids want?”
He gulped. “Do you have any rooms?”
“Uh huh.” She shoved a registration pad at him. “Just the two of you?”
He flushed as he shook his head. “No, there are four of us.” He looked at Tracy. “We need two rooms. One for my friend and me and one for the girls.”
The lady shrugged. “Where are the others?”
“Outside.” Bucky picked up the pen. “They’re kind of tired.”
The matron gave him a disinterested look. “You can just fill it out for everybody.”
He hesitated over the form. Right below the address line was a box asking for make of car and license number. Leaving it blank he slid the card back to the clerk.
“$34.00 a night plus tax. For each room. Payment up front.”
Without a word Tracy opened her purse and handed Bucky a $20 bill. He shot her a grateful look. Adding it to his own depleted little pile, he handed over the cash and accepted the two keys.
“Checkout’s at ten,” the woman grunted, returning to her book.
Outside Bucky handed one of the room keys to Tracy. “Here we are, Shultz.” He forced a tight smile. “Hope you don’t snore.” The long, ugly evening had erected a barrier between the two boys that was impossible to miss.
Chapter Ten: Midnight Prayers
Bucky stood in the shower, trying to soak in some much - needed warmth from the inadequate spray. Even the relaxing moments of isolation in the tiny bathroom didn’t wash away the prickly feeling that lingered between the two boys.
“Come on, man.” Jonathan’s voice penetrated the thin bathroom door. “Give me a turn in there.”
Bucky let the shower go on for another few moments before reluctantly turning off the water. Reaching for a towel, he dried himself off and stepped out into the room. About all it contained were two double beds and a small chest of drawers.
Clad just in a pair of boxer shorts, Jonathan was idly flipping through the channels on the scruffy-looking television. “Giants got beat again,” he shrugged.
Picking up some of his clothes, Bucky shoved them into the bottom drawer. Lord, help me to get along with him. “Shower’s all yours.”
Jonathan squeezed into the bathroom and shut the door.
Sinking down onto the bed closest to the door, Bucky closed his eyes with a fatigued sigh. The harrowing escape from the police earlier that evening and the sense of still - present danger had put a tight knot in his stomach that wouldn’t go away. The quiet but insistent blare of the TV, masked by the sounds of running water, filled the cramped motel room, but he didn’t hear it.
His mind replayed the convulsive events of the evening, lurching from scene to scene. The squeal of the van’s tires during the chase was still fresh in his memory.
Forcing himself to think in methodical precision, he weighed the situation. Was it wrong to stand aside while Jonathan pulled off an escape from the police? Was Bucky’s own silence actually helping his friend break the law? Or were the patrolmen already home in bed, having shrugged off the chase through town as just another punk who got away?
After what seemed like an hour, the running water in the next room slowed to a trickle. Jonathan emerged from the bathroom with his hair awry and water still dripping into his eyes. “Pretty lousy shower,” he grumped.
He slipped on a pair of tattered pajamas and turned the TV knob to another channel. Glancing briefly at the commercial, he turned and faced Bucky. “Listen, man . . .”
Bucky waited, his face emotionless.
“I, uh . . . I’m sorry how all this turned out. You know, with the cops and all.”
After a moment’s pause, Bucky forced a nod. “OK.”
“And the gun.” Jonathan shrugged. “I guess it was kind of dumb. I mean, look at what it got me into. But having it around made me feel good.”
Bucky looked directly at the other boy. “What are you going to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“About the cops and everything.”
Jonathan scratched at his still - damp head. “I honestly don’t get it, Stone. What are you driving at? You still want me to . . . what? Drive over to the precinct office and turn us all in? Four hours after the whole thing’s over?” He gave a little snort. “Shucks, back at Hampton I’ve run through stop signs and stuff a hundred times. You want me to go in when we get back home and tell ‘em, ‘Well, hey, my conscience has been bothering me. Please charge me a couple of million bucks in back fines so I can sleep easier at night’? I mean, get real, Stone.”
Bucky sat up and put his feet down on the floor, looking directly at his friend. “I don’t know if that’s what you should do. I admit it sounds dumb.” He took a breath. “All I know is this: for us to run away from the cops like that was wrong. Stupid and wrong. Whether we got away with it or not, that’s what I’ve got to live with.”
“It ain’t your problem, man.”
The taller boy shook his head. “Look, Shultz.” He tried to keep his voice calm. “You know I’m a Christian. So I’m kind of dealing with a whole different set of rules. And in my religion, getting away with it isn’t the point at all. As far as God’s concerned, we didn’t get away with it at all.”
A strange look crossed Jonathan’s face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I feel real . . . I don’t know.” He cocked his head to one side, looking at him. “You know what I mean?”
“I guess. Kind of, anyway.” Jonathan wadded up his towel and tossed it on the floor. “But look. Like I said, it’s not your problem. You told me to stop, and I didn’t. Just forget about it and go to sleep.”
Reaching over, Bucky brushed a piece of lint off the thin bedspread. “I guess . . . things just haven’t turned out like I thought,” he managed at last.
The other boy gave a little humph. “Oh, looked to me like in at least one way, things were turnin’ out pretty good for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Miss Tracy Givenchy was all over you, my friend.” Jonathan gestured with his head toward the adjacent room. “If you’d pushed your luck at all you’d be rooming with her right now. Which wouldn’t have bothered me at all.” He grinned, thinking about Jill.
Bucky’s mind raced, trying to think of a response. But his own thoughts about Tracy . . . and Lisa . . . and about a Christian guy’s integrity were too difficult even sort out, let alone explain to someone like Jonathan Shultz. He let the remark pass.
It was midnight before Jonathan flipped the lights off in the sparse motel room. He mumbled some one - sided conversation for a few moments, but finally lapsed into silence, giving Bucky an opportunity to pray.
Silently pouring out his thoughts to God, Bucky asked for wisdom to face the rest of the trip. “I don’t know what I should have done, Lord,” he confessed. “I mean, I didn’t know any of this was going to happen. Please help me to think things through better next time.” He prayed for Jonathan for several minutes, then asked God to show him a way to share Christ with his friend.
Even with the fatigue of the long freeway trip, it was hard to get to sleep. He kept remembering the jolt of that first moment when he climbed into the van and saw Tracy seated there. Miss Tracy Givenchy, the smartest girl he’d ever met. And one of the prettiest. Not a Christian, but with that little laugh and her evocative little glances.
Shifted uneasily in the lumpy
bed, he then thought of Lisa. A disquieting sense began to creep over him that perhaps he was a little too easily swept off his feet by a girl’s looks, regardless of her character values. Was it disloyal, even wrong, to entertain an interest in someone like Tracy at the very moment that Lisa was expectantly waiting up in Seattle? And Lisa – she shared his religious interests, but certainly didn’t comprehend the fullness of what a commitment to Jesus really entailed.
His mind went back to his sophomore year and the painful romance with Deirdre. Not a Christian either. After several dates and the realization that Bucky - and - Deirdre was plainly a dead-end street, he had forced himself to break off the friendship. Now here was Tracy. Napping next to him in the van with her head on his shoulder and holding hands while they walked through the parking lot. Was he playing out the same failed scenario for a second year in a row?
It was so easy, he realized now, to simply shrug when faced with a tough choice. To put off any confrontation. Tracy or Lisa? Can’t think about it now. Two girls instead of two guys on the Baseball Weekend? Oh well. What a surprise. A date with Deirdre? Why not? Deal with the consequences later.
The little digital clock on the dresser was almost at 1:00 a.m. when a quiet conviction began to settle over him. Never again would he allow himself to become involved with a girl who wasn’t a Christian. Not Tracy or Deirdre or anyone.
How his decision would change the weekend that still loomed ahead, he had no way of telling. Romantic candles had already been lit in Tracy’s mind – he was sure of that. And the little redhead had a hold on him that would be hard to shake. But somehow God would give him a way to extricate himself from a situation that was bound to harm his relationship with Jesus.
At last he fell asleep.
The theme music of ESPN’s morning baseball report filtered through his consciousness in the morning. Jonathan, already dressed, gave Bucky’s mattress a kick. “Come on, Stone, we got a long drive still. Ready to see our A’s stomp all over those poor Mariners?”
“For sure.” Determined to bury yesterday’s disagreements, Bucky climbed out of bed. “Just give me a second.”
“I figure we better eat in the van. Then get some more food when we get to the ballpark.”
It took Bucky just a few moments to wash and dress. Pausing for a moment in the solitude of the bathroom to pray, he asked God to give him strength in following through with his decisions of the night before.
When they knocked on the girls’ door, it was Tracy who answered. “Oh, come on, you guys. It’s too early.” Still barefoot, she was wearing a tattered T-shirt, her tousled red hair drooping down into her eyes. She gave Bucky a sleepy little grin.
He gulped. She’s so incredibly cute! Lord, how am I ever going to go through with this?
“Well, hurry up,” Jonathan teased. “You need any help getting dressed?”
She wrinkled up her nose at both of them and slammed the door. Bucky laughed in spite of himself. “Guess she told you.”
It was a good fifteen minutes before the two girls finally came out. Tracy was carrying her tote bag and a big pillow with pictures of teddy bears all over it.
“What, your room didn’t have pillows?” Bucky asked.
“Not with my little Pooh Bear on it,” she sniffed.
“Let me help you carry some of that.”
She handed him her tote bag as they headed down the street toward the van. “You sleep all right?”
“Yeah, not bad.” He looked down at her. “How ‘bout you?”
“Oh, Jill wanted to watch some old Matt Damon show that came on. But I fell asleep.”
Jonathan unlocked the van and the four students piled all the gear into the cargo area. “Here we go again,” Jill observed, climbing herself up into the front passenger seat. She pulled down the sun visor and peered into the mirror, dabbing at her makeup.
Bucky shifted some of the bags on the floor to make room for his long legs. Easing himself into the bench seat next to Tracy, he tried to cover up a yawn.
“You said you slept good,” Tracy laughed.
“I guess not good enough.”
She gave him a sly look. “Dreaming real hard about me, I hope.”
He gulped.
Fumbling with the keys, Jonathan finally turned on the ignition. With a sputter, the engine rumbled to life.
All at once a long black - and - white car came careening around the corner. Squealing to a stop right in front of the van, two officers jumped out.
“What in the world?” Jonathan whirled around in his seat. Behind the van, a second patrol car had just pulled into position, blocking them from backing out. Two more officers slowly approached the van from the rear, hands on their holsters.
“Oh my God.” Tracy, her face white with panic looked from one boy to the other. “What’s going on?
“Get out of the van with your hands up.” The staccato voice reverberated off the walls of the apartment buildings lining the quiet street as a fifth officer, his body shielded by the open door of the lead patrol car, spoke through a megaphone. “You’re under arrest.”
Chapter Eleven: Busted
The pounding in Bucky’s chest was so real he felt like he was going to faint. The red lights flashed directly into his eyes and made him dizzy.
“Oh, man!” Jonathan looked straight ahead, his pudgy face pale and perspiring. “We are dead meat!”
“Please exit the vehicle. Slowly.” The harsh amplified voice punctuated the air again.
His limbs weak, Bucky edged toward the door. It required several tries to undo the latch and slide the door free. Taking a deep breath, he tried to stop his hands from shaking.
“Slowly!” The words crackled in the students’ ears. “Keep your hands where we can see them.”
Climbing out, Bucky carefully stepped away from the van and onto the sidewalk. Tracy followed a moment later, her lips quivering slightly.
The next few minutes were an agonizing blur as the patrolmen lined up the four students against the side of the van. Bucky listened dully to the recitation of Miranda rights. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .” He glanced over at Jill, who was almost in tears.
One of the police officers set down the radio microphone and walked over to Jonathan. “We’re not going to cuff you kids,” he said, his tone curt, “but I want you to get in the back of the patrol cars. Without any fuss. You and you over here.” He nodded toward Bucky and Tracy. “The two of you in this one.”
His heart in his throat, Bucky climbed into the back seat of the black - and - white sheriff’s car. Heavy metal mesh separated the pair from the driver up front. He leaned back against the cold fabric of the seat.
“I never thought this would happen,” he muttered to Tracy, his voice shaking just a little bit. “After last night, I mean. I figured Jonathan was right.”
“What do we do?” Tracy pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her nose.
“Just tell them exactly what happened.” He looked over at the door, which had no inside handle “Right down the line. Just tell them the truth.”
It was a short drive to the Eugene police station on Pearl Street. The two officers in the front seat remained silent, one of them bent over a duty report, filling in the information with a black pen. The radio squawked instructions once, but the two men answered in monosyllables.
“Everybody out.” The driver pulled into a marked slot in the station parking lot and shut off the engine. Two other policemen pulled open the passenger doors and waited for Bucky and Tracy to climb out. Already standing at the entrance to the two - story building, Jonathan and Jill were accompanied by two other armed guards.
Bucky looked behind him as the Chevy van pulled into view. The policeman driving the maroon vehicle wheeled into the parking lot and positioned it well away from the other cars.
“Let’s go.” Motioning the four young people into the building, the men led them down the hallway and into a room with a
long table lined with chairs. “Everybody sit down, but no talking.”
Bucky sank into one of the folding metal chairs and glanced over at Jonathan. The expression on the stocky junior’s face was difficult to interpret. He glanced at Bucky and shook his head as if to admit his error.
A short Asian officer stepped into the room. “I need ID from all of you if you’ve got it,” he said. “Driver’s licenses, school ID, whatever.”
Bucky reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Slipping his license free he handed it wordlessly to the officer, who collected them from all four students. A moment later he came over to Bucky.
“Mr. Stone, I’m going to ask you to go with Officer Shelton to Room A6 down the hall. He’ll take your statement there. Miss Givenchy, we need you to go with Mr. Orland here. The two of you just wait here for a moment.”
Numbly Bucky rose and followed the police officer down the hall. “In here, Stone.” The man pulled the door open and motioned inside. “Let’s see what this is all about.”
Sitting down across from Bucky he pulled a thick pad out of the top drawer and looked across at the young student. “You’ve been advised of your rights. Are you willing to talk to me?”
Bucky nodded without speaking.
“Now, we’ve got you people involved last evening in a traffic - light violation and then an evasion of arrest along around 9:00, more or less.” He made a notation on the chart. “Two of our men took down license plate and description out at the railroad crossing, then tracked you into town at extremely high speeds, at least two more red - light violations, four or five reckless - driving situations, and then somehow you kids got away from us.” He gave Bucky a pointed look. “But now here we are. Have I about got it right?”
Bucky gulped. “Yes, sir.”
The officer nodded. “OK. That’s good for starters. Why don’t we begin with who was driving?” His pen was poised over the pad.
“Jonathan.” Bucky hesitated just a moment before answering. “It’s his van. He drove the whole way.”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 69
