The Outside Groove (17 page)

Fletcher opened my door. As I stepped onto the dirt, he gestured toward the back seat. “There's a sweatshirt in there if you get cold,” he said.

“Thanks.”

A few people called Fletcher's name as we approached the fire, and he returned the greeting but motioned for me to follow him out onto the dock.

Neither Fletcher nor I said anything for a while, instead just listening to the river rushing past. Finally he laughed, and I could tell, from the sound of it, that he was thinking about the prom. “What a fiasco,” he said.

“Mayhem,” I agreed. “Center of Detention? I mean, what was the prom committee thinking?”

We were silent again for a while, and a flock of Canada geese flew past
—Branta canadensis
—low to the water's surface. But, for once, I didn't think much about the geese. Didn't think about their migratory patterns. Didn't think about anything. I just waited for that moment when I'd feel Fletcher's arm gather me to his side.

There. Or was it a breeze glancing my shoulder?

At that very moment someone ripped a redneck wolf call into the night as a familiar engine rumbled down the access road.

I turned to see the Red Snake kicking up pebbles as Wade rocketed into the lot, fishtailing, the showoff, before pulling in behind Fletcher's Dart. A couple of guys let out additional wolf calls, in case the first one had been unclear, as Wade cut the engine and got out. Maxine Shaw—
not
Gail Wiggans—stepped out of the passenger side.

“That pig,” I muttered.

“Wade, dude,” Fletcher said with a shake of his head.

I watched Wade and Maxine walk over to the keg. He waved to the people by the fire. Maxine clung to his side, casting dreamy glances all around.

I suddenly wished that I were one of those geese flying by, and I remembered everything about their migratory patterns. I wished that I were anyone, anything, but Wade LaPlante's little sister.

Wade was far enough away that I couldn't hear what he was saying, just a bunch of grunting and laughing.

“You all right, Casey?” Fletcher said. “Want to leave?”

“Fletcher!” Wade shouted before I could answer. “Get over here, guy!”

Fletcher's eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to make Wade magically disappear. He turned to me, but I looked away.

“No way am I talking to him tonight,” I said.

“I'm his crew chief. I kind of have to,” Fletcher said, not sounding convinced that this was true. “I'll be right back. OK? And then we can leave if you want.”

I didn't say anything.

Fletcher touched my shoulder—I was positive that it was his hand this time. “You want me to get that sweatshirt?”

I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I'll get it,” I said. “Do what you have to do. Then let's go somewhere else.”

I crossed the parking lot in the opposite direction. As mad as I was at Wade, I was also experiencing something good I'd never felt down at the fishing access before: what it felt like not to be alone on a Saturday night. Still, I wished the Sharks were there. They probably wouldn't have liked the Flu High crowd, but I could see them getting along with Fletcher just fine.

“Did you see Wade's sister's dress?” a girl said as she and a group of people passed me on their way toward the fire. I must've been invisible in the darkness.

“Beautiful,” another girl said. “She's actually a very pretty girl ... for being so stuck-up.”

I slowed my pace.

A couple of the others laughed, then a guy said, “Fletcher lucked out.”

“Hey,” a girl scolded. “You wish Wade had made
you
take her? Huh?”

Everyone laughed again.

“Fletcher's a team player, that's for sure,” the first guy said. “Taking one for the team.”

“A guy could do worse,” the other guy said.

“Hey,” the same girl scolded again.

A breeze kicked up, almost knocking me over as my knees wobbled. I took a few steps toward Fletcher's car and stopped, covered my face with my hands. Two more people passed by without seeming to notice me, as if I'd already become invisible again, as if I'd never been visible to begin with.

Wade's laugh cut through the night like a hyena calling to the rest of the pack. I turned to see him slapping Fletcher on the chest, Maxine's arms wrapped around him from behind, her head pressed into his back. Wade laughed again, and so did the people around the fire. I walked directly to Wade's car, reached through the driver's-side window, and flicked my hand around until I hit the keys dangling in the ignition. In three fluid motions, I 1) opened the driver's-side door, 2) slid behind the wheel, and 3) fired up the Red Snake. I gunned the engine, threw the car into reverse, and whipped it around toward the woods. I aimed the front end at the road and pulled the lights on. I slammed the car in gear and punched the gas. Clicking on the high beams, I caught a deer bounding over the road fifty yards ahead
—Odocoileus virginianus.
“That's right!” I screamed. “Out of my way!”

***

Uncle Harvey must've heard me coming up his road because he was standing on the front steps when I pulled into the yard. “Nice ride,” he said as I got out. “Looks familiar.”

“I want to race tomorrow,” I said, slamming the door.

“There's no racing tomorrow. Tomorrow's Sunday.”

“Demon's Run.”

Uncle Harvey didn't say anything. He just let me stand there, breathing heavily. “My, don't you look fetching?” he finally said.

“I'm racing tomorrow.”

Uncle Harvey sat down on the steps and scratched his ankles. “Would you mind telling me what you're doing with your brother's car?”

“I borrowed it. I want to race at Demon's Run.”

“Now, just why would you want to do that?”

“It's personal.”

“Oh, it's personal all right. You don't need to tell me that. It's been personal since the get-go, and here you are, in your brother's cherry Nova. Hoo!” He slapped a hand against the steps.

“I'm doing it.”

Uncle Harvey rubbed his eyes for a few seconds and then leaned back on his hands. “Well, you're going to have to do it without me, kid,” he said, “because I'm just plain full-out uninterested in what goes on over to Demon's Run.”

“Why?”

“Never you mind why. It's a free country, and I just don't care for the way they run over there. You want to race at Demon's? Be my guest. Just don't expect me to be there.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

At this Uncle Harvey set his jaw, lowered his chin to his chest, and just stared ahead.

“When my mother came up here the other day, you looked like you'd seen a ghost. What was that about?”

Uncle Harvey still said nothing.

“You afraid to show your face at Demon's—”

“I'm not afraid of anything,” Uncle Harvey snapped in a gruff tone. As if he'd startled himself with his sudden change of mood, he waited a few moments before turning to me. “You want to know if I'm avoiding Demon's Run? Well, as a matter of fact I am. It's my right to go and not go wherever I want.”

“But—”

“I'm not finished.”

“Sorry.”

He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands between them. “Now, have I got reasons for not going there? I do. And they're
my
reasons. You understand?”

“They have to do with
my
family—”

“My
reasons, Casey.” He stared at me, his jaw clenched again.

I tried to stare him down, but, even as mad as I was just then, I couldn't. Even when Uncle Harvey was supremely annoyed, I couldn't help but see him as the sweetest man I'd ever met. I looked out over the yard. “What about Jim?” I said.

“What about him?”

“Think he'll bring me to Demon's Run tomorrow?”

“You can ask him yourself. He makes his own decisions.”

Silence.

“Well, I am going to ask him.” I looked at my uncle again. “I mean, I don't know how else to get my ride over there.”

Uncle Harvey stared at me as if he were waiting for me to blink. Eventually he sighed, leaned back again, and looked into the night sky. “You're going to do it, then?”

“I have to,” I said.

“Why do you have to? Let me guess. Someone tell you a race track's no place for a girl?”

“You were Big Daddy's crew chief.”

Uncle Harvey made that whistling sound through his teeth and shook his head. “Let it go, Case,” he said.

“I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

Uncle Harvey gazed across the yard for a long time, and from where I stood, his gray silhouette could've been Big Daddy's—the jutting chin, the slightly bulging eyes. The resemblance caught me off-guard for a second, and then it angered me—angered me first because it'd startled me but mainly because Big Daddy and Uncle Harvey were not the same man. They couldn't have been more different. And some of the ways they were different had made my uncle's shop like a second home to me—maybe a first home, a real home anyway, where people paid attention to what I was saying. But Big Daddy and Uncle Harvey were different in another way that I couldn't pinpoint because Uncle Harvey refused to talk about it, even though I could tell it needled him a little more each time I went poking around for whatever it was he wouldn't tell me.

“Here's all I've got to say on the matter,” Uncle Harvey said and spat. “You take what the race—”

“Take what the race brings me. I know. You've told me this before. I'm a patient driver. I run my line, I race my race.”

“Are you really so patient, Casey?” he said. “Are you really racing your race? Or is that not your brother's car sitting over there?”

Maybe it was the mention of Wade's name or the whole wonderful evening rushing back to me, but I was through talking. Racing at Demon's Run wasn't up for debate.

I stood and turned so fast that I slipped on the grass in my high-heeled shoes. This just made me madder. I stormed to the Nova and yanked open the door. In the corner of my eye, I saw Uncle Harvey stand and follow me. “Promise me something,” he said.

I fired the ignition.

Leaning on the open window so that I wouldn't back out, he eyed the Red Snake's front end, its gentle hump shape following smooth, arcing lines from windshield to grill. He whistled to himself. “I admire your taste in cars. I can't say much for your tactics, but when you steal someone's ride, you certainly steal something worth driving.” He looked at me, and I knew that whatever secret lay buried behind those soft eyes was likely to remain there for a while. I could see too that being mad at him wasn't going to make me a better racer. I wondered if my raising some hell out on the track at Demon's Run could bring him some joy up here in his lonely little place. “Keep it between the lines,” he said.

“I will.”

He slapped the Nova's roof and stood back.

I backed around so that the rear was to the garage, and in the white reverse lights I saw Theo hulking in the shop. He'd taken a few knocks that afternoon, but unless I was imagining things, he looked about ready to pounce.

As I drifted down Uncle Harvey's road, freaking out at the realization, now that I was calmer, that I was driving Wade's pride and joy, my cell phone rang. My heart caught, and I nearly drove into the weeds. I tapped the brakes and checked the receiver display, relieved to discover it was Bernie, not Fletcher or Wade, on the other end.

“I was just about to call you,” I said, easing to a stop at the end of the road.

“I wasn't expecting you to pick up. Tell me that tall man you got all dressed up for is sitting next to you. ”

“He's not.”

“What?”

“Long story.”

“Good date?”

“Like I said, long story. Can you guys get here tomorrow by noon latest? It's important.”

“How important?”

“I'll owe you for life.”

“That's fine, Casey. But T.T. and Tam are going to want to know if you'll introduce us to Mr. Man's friends. Otherwise, that's a long way to drive.”

“Oh, there are boys involved. Definitely.”

“Well, then, I'll see what I can do. Call me in the morning.”

***

The whole house was up, of course, when I got back from Uncle Harvey's—and not, I was guessing, to see if I'd had a pleasant evening. Wade shot out the kitchen door before I could even turn the ignition off. I stepped out of the car and threw his keys into the front yard. He seemed stunned as I walked straight toward him. He stepped aside just before I plowed him over. “Pig,” I said as I entered the garage. Mom stood behind the kitchen door, a worried look on her face.

“If you put so much as a scratch on that car,” Wade said.

“What?” I spun around. “What'll you do? What can you do to me? I expect
nothing
from you, Wade. I won't
make
that mistake.”

Mom opened the door. “Casey, please,” she said. “Let's talk this over.”

“I've got nothing to say.”

“You took your brother's car.”

“My brother is a pig-dog who treats girls like roadkill.”

No one said anything.

“Ask him!” I shouted. “Ask him who it is this week. Who's the lucky lady who gets to ride shotgun with Wade the Blade?”

I turned to Mom and spotted Big Daddy standing in the dining room, coffee mug in hand.

Wade slammed his door and started the engine. He backed into the road and flew off with a squeal of tires.

“Very mature, isn't he?” I muttered as I passed Mom.

“Casey,” she said. “Can we talk about this?”

I said nothing and scrambled up the stairs as fast as I could without tripping over my dress. I barely got the door open before the tears started gushing.