by Aaron Grunn
"Yes."
"That's an awesome car."
"You're into cars?"
"I love cars. Your uncle's car is one I've always wanted to drive."
"Well, I'll ask him."
"Thank you," she said and tilted her head at him.
John gulped. Was this really happening?
"Are you going to do the biology homework?" she asked.
"The one due on Friday?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe," John said. It was another boring assignment.
"Maybe?"
"Mr. Cox doesn't know how to teach."
She stared at him for a second, as if she was trying to make up her mind. He felt himself squirm.
"You really just do what you want," she said.
He didn't know how to reply.
"Well if you want to do the homework with me—"
"Jessica!"
They looked up and from the second story of Jessica's house, her mother's upper body leaned out.
"I'm coming mom!"
"You need to finish the lawn."
"Well let me know," she said, hugged him briefly pressing her breasts against him, and ran into her house.
John waved at Jessica's mother, who was now regarding him with something that bordered on hostility. She disappeared, and John looked down on his clothes. His jeans and shoes had holes, and his hoodie had a skull drawn on the front. They were baggy clothes, not because he was trying to look like a gangsta, but because his mother refused to buy him clothes he would outgrow within a year. He was sure that Jessica's mother, living a rich life, thought he was not the kind of guy for her daughter. Best to leave her for the Smittys of the world. His heart sank.
On the way home he tried to recreate the way Jessica had smiled at him, hugged him, and the aroma she emitted. Did she really want to do homework with him? Again there was a bulge that embarrassed him, and he walked with his book bag held in front of him the rest of the way home.
In the parking lot he looked at the Impala. He would ask his uncle to teach him something about the car. It was about time that he got his learner's permit anyways, though he was sure his mother wouldn't allow that either. He liked knowing that his uncle was around. It made life, somehow, seem fuller.
"Hey there," John said and threw his book bag down.
His uncle was reading a novel on the couch.
"What're you reading?"
"Ulysses, great book, you should check it out sometime."
"I read it."
Tom stared at him for a few seconds. "I believe you," he said, then shook his head. "Christ, kid. Do you have any fun? Or do you just read?"
"Just read."
"Why?"
"Life sucks otherwise," John said and joined him on the couch.
"You're young, you should be out there having fun."
John shrugged his head.
Tom leaned forward and sniffed John.
"Stop that," John said.
"You smell like pussy."
"She's not pussy," John said, offended that his uncle would use such a word.
"You do," Tom smiled and shook a finger at John. "You little dog you. You used a condom, right?"
"No!" John said, turning red. He couldn't believe this.
"No, eh? You dirty dog, you."
"Stop it," John said, squirming in place.
"All right," Tom said, that crazy laugh filling the apartment again. "What's her name?"
"Jessica."
"Cute? Perky tits?"
"Don't talk about her like that. She's nice, and has a great smile."
Tom screwed his face like he didn't understand, or like John was crazy. "Right, but she's cute, I bet."
"She is, but I only like her because she's nice."
"Right," Tom said, sounding like he didn't believe John.
"It's true."
"Yea, yea, yeah, of course it is."
John shook his head and looked away.
"Can you teach me something about your Impala?"
"Why?"
"She likes it. She was in the car you yelled at yesterday."
"Why's she hanging out with those dorks?" Tom twisted his lower face and looked up like he was pretending to think really hard. "Oh, wait, she was the one in the back, right?"
"Yes."
Tom laughed. "She was cute. I'm sure she has a great personality too."
John waited for his uncle to finish laughing. He didn't like that he laughed at almost everything. "Are you going to teach me about the Impala?"
"Sure. Nice personalities love the Impala."
John, not understanding what it was that his uncle was trying to say, pursed his lips and waited for more. If his uncle wanted to speak like a madman, then he would let him.
"Well, what do you want to know?"
"Is it a 1970?"
"Hell, no. It's a 1968. She say it was a '70?"
John nodded, feeling like he was betraying Jessica.
"Not, too bright, eh?"
"She's smart."
Tom stared at John.
"Well, let's take a spin," Tom got up.
"Me?"
"Yes, you," Tom said, a grin on his face.
They got in. "Are there any seatbelts?" John asked.
"Seatbelts are for losers. Remember that."
John felt something heavy on his chest, but that was soon replaced with a thrilling feeling as Tom squealed the car out of the parking lot and into the road. Several cars swerved out of the way.
"Are you nuts?" John yelled.
Tom yelped at the top of his voice, and they went screaming out of town. Within a few minutes they were in the middle of farm country. Tom drove until they reached a windy road, before pulling to the side.
"Switch."
"What? I can't drive. I don't have a license," said John.
"You do now," Tom stepped out and pulled John's door open. "Get out. You walk home, or you drive home."
"You can't do that," John said, staring at his uncle, scared like he was when he first saw him.
"Come on kid. I'm gonna show you how to drive."
John got out and sat in the driver's seat. He could see over the wheel. That was good.
"All right, it's manual, so that makes it harder to learn. You know the levers?"
"Yeah," John said. He'd memorized them for a class, though he couldn't remember now.
"Good. Press clutch, move into gear, then release clutch while pressing gas. Got it?"
"Got it." It sounded simple.
He released the clutch, pressed the gas pedal and the car lurched forward and died. "What happened?"
"You stalled it kid. Try again."
"Is it dead?"
"No. Start it up again."
There was a learned patience in Tom's voice. Something that John hadn't heard before. John started the car and tried it again. The car shuddered, and came to a halt.
"Again."
"Why?"
"Just do it John. This time give it more gas."
John did it and the car lurched forward, squealed, and when he pulled back on the gas, the car shook and stopped. John could smell the rubber burning.
"Again. Don't release the gas so soon."
He did it again and the car started up. "I did it!"
"Stop. Again."
It took several turns before John had the hang of it.
They drove around the empty country roads as Tom taught him how to upshift and downshift.
"You're a natural."
It was getting dark. John knew physics, so in his head he calculated the fastest speed he could take a corner, or the time it would take to brake. Tom told him it was outfitted with a six hundred horsepower engine, and that its max hadn't been tested out.
"Remember, never stay in the red for too long," Tom said.
John gunned it, and soon was in sixth gear. When the gas pedal wouldn't go down any more, he looked at the speed.
"One eighty!" John yelled; he looked over at Tom who seemed frozen to his seat. John gr
inned. He was in control.
"We're coming up to some turns, slow down."
John knew these turns, and made a calculation in his head.
"John, do you hear me? Your lights aren't even on."
John let up on the gas. They were about to come to the thicket of trees where the road twisted. As a kid he once pointed out a cockroach in the dark to his mother. She couldn't see it. Right now, he could see with far more clarity and detail than he ever remembered.
"John!"
John turned to his uncle and smiled. It felt good seeing his uncle sweat. "Take it easy," John said, his voice dropping low.
The car lurched into the first corner. Coming out of it, John hit the gas, then the brakes. One fifty miles an hour. Another turn, this was sharp, John slammed on the brakes, felt a drift and turned into it. He could feel himself planted to the side of his seat. When the car gained control, they were on the other lane.
"Truck!" Tom yelled.
It was too dark for the trucker to see them, but John saw a gap on the shoulder and gunned for it. There was a grinding sound, and John jerked the car the other way as they barely passed the truck and heard it screeching its brakes. The back of the car fishtailed the other way, barely missing the truck's rear, and John felt the loose uncontrollable glide as it drifted to the other side and out of another corner.
John's heart was pumping, and yet his mind was clear. There was the touch that he felt run through his bones when he closed his eyes and Smitty was about to hit him. Except this time he knew what the touch was, and it was as if he could almost control it.
"Okay, time to switch," Tom said, in a small voice.
"Look, uncle, no eyes."
"John!" Tom yelled.
John closed his eyes. He couldn't see, but he could feel the road. He pressed the gas and turned into the corner, he hit the brakes, and suddenly couldn't feel anything. He opened his eyes and saw a tree. He jerked the wheel, and the car spun out of control.
The world swished around John, and he felt himself pushed against the door, except that this time, without any control he felt nauseous. Turning the wheel didn't do anything. Suddenly, they stopped. John felt himself thrown against the steering wheel, and saw Tom's head hit the dashboard. The air was knocked out of John, and he thought