by Gary Paulsen
“Here, tip your head back. I’ve got some tissue in my purse.” Mia crams tissue up both my nostrils.
“Nice look.” Now Theo’s the one who smirks. “Let me take your picture.”
I shake my head and snap a picture of the bloody tissue I pull out of my nose.
“Do you know Bobby?” Mia asks Theo. “Looked like he recognized you.”
“He’s someone I used to know, yeah. More like a non-friend of a friend.”
“He didn’t look friendly when he tried to deck you.”
Theo’s phone buzzes and he checks the text, frowns, and shoves the phone back in his pocket. He’s gnawing on his lip.
“Were you guys heading into the diner?” Mia asks.
“No, just stretching our legs. Rest stop,” I tell her.
“Road trip? Cool. Where you headed?”
“We’re on a quest to save a life.”
“Shut. The. Front. Door.” Mia’s mouth is hanging open.
“Yup. There’s a dog who needs our help and we’re going to save him from certain death.” I sound just like Dad. Now I get why he’s like that: I’d say anything to see that look on Mia’s face.
“I love dogs.” As if we couldn’t tell—she’s feeding Atticus a sandwich she pulled out of her bag and not even getting squeamish that he’s drooling all over her foot. “I’m Mia, by the way.”
“I’m Ben, this is Theo, and Atticus is the one slobbering on you.”
“Are you brothers?”
“Friends,” Theo and I answer together. Nice.
“That’s my Dad and Gus.” I point to them still working on the bus.
“You’re going to rescue a dog in a school bus?”
“It’s kind of a long story.” It’s not even lunchtime and my day is already a long story. Geez.
“Did you steal the bus?”
“Um, no, why would you ask?”
“That would be a long story,” she says. “I stole an ATV once. And a small sailboat. And a snowplow.”
“Did not.”
“Well, not at the same time. But you can see why I asked if you stole the bus.”
“Ohhhh-kaayyy.” Is this what career thieves or compulsive liars look like? She’s probably eighteen or nineteen, and there’s a lot of her crammed into a little waitress uniform. I count six earrings in the ear facing me, and she’s got purple and green streaks in her hair. Black fingernail polish and red cowboy boots and a ton of noisy bracelets. She’s not pretty, but there’s something about her that makes you keep looking, and the longer you look, the more interesting she is. I’ve never seen anyone like her.
Theo’s checking her out, too. “Did you really just quit your job?”
“Yeah. I should have left months ago. It’s a hostile work environment. Sharkey, he’s the owner, said the uniforms brought in the big tips. He’s the kind of perv who orders the uniforms one size smaller than what the girls tell him. The hem’s always creeping up and there are buttons missing in the front so you’re showing the goods more than you’d like. Still, he promised that they didn’t allow touching, it’s policy. So when Bobby patted my bottom and said ‘You might as well go out with me because I’m gonna tell everybody we did anyway,’ I’d had enough.”
“What are you gonna do now?” What is with all the up-and-quitting jobs today?
“Follow my dream. This job just paid the bills while I got on my feet.”
“What’s your dream?”
“To be a triple threat.”
The only triple threat I can think of is the football player who can run, pass, and kick. I don’t think that’s what she means, even though she’s, um, hefty enough to hold her own on a football field.
Theo asks, “Singer, dancer, actor?”
“Not the kind in football,” she laughs. I turn red, embarrassed that I thought that a minute ago.
“Are you any good?”
“So far I’m just good at being told ‘You’re not really what we’re looking for’ and ‘Come back when you have more experience.’ ”
“Bummer.”
“Your dad’s waving at you. Introduce me.” She’s halfway across the parking lot before I can get to my feet. Theo and I jog after her.
“Hi, I’m Mia.” She’s shaking hands with Dad and Gus. “These guys just gave me the guts I needed to make a major change.”
“There’s a lot of that going around.” Dad smiles at Mia and raises his eyebrows at me. I look away; it’s cute when she does it.
They’re chatting about chasing dreams; I’m not really paying attention. I’m watching Atticus watch Theo texting. Atticus is sitting with one paw raised and he keeps reaching out to scratch at Theo’s leg. He wants Theo to put the phone away. So do I.
“So, how about I come with?” Mia’s asking Dad and my attention is back on their conversation. “I’d like to help rescue a dog.”
“It ain’t a real bus route, ya know, stoppin’ to pick up people along the way,” Gus grumbles from under the hood. She looks over his shoulder.
“Nice ride. In-line six-cylinder, four-stroke-cycle diesel engine, right?”
“Finally. Someone who knows engines.” He glares at the rest of us. Mia’s in and we all know it. She texts her roommates to let them know she’s going on a quick trip and will be back in a couple of days.
She makes Dad show her his license and she sends his info along to them. She snaps a picture of all of us beside the bus and sends that, too, with our names. “No offense,” she says. “But a girl can’t be too careful these days.” We all nod.
“How do you know about the engine?” I ask Mia.
“I know a little bit about a lot of things. You never know when you’re going to need stuff, so I try to keep my eyes open.”
“We’re not sure how long we’ll be gone,” I try to warn her. “Dad’s not really a planner.” I hope he hears the disgust in my voice even as I hope Mia doesn’t. I wish there was a way to be charming to her and make Dad know I’m mad at him. “We’re supposed to be in a hurry to get there, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
She shrugs. “I can take a couple days. It’ll be a good story. A person in my line of work needs to collect life experiences; makes my art more authentic.”
“Saddle up, then. We’re heading out. Put some ice on that nose,” Dad says to me as he jumps on the bus, Gus, Theo, and Atticus behind him. Mia and I drop into seats as the bus lurches out of the parking lot. Theo hands me a wad of paper napkins filled with ice from the cooler.
I watch Atticus hop onto the seat and lean against Mia as he looks out the window. She puts her arm around him and nuzzles his ear. I take their picture. Mia grabs the phone, studies her image, and makes me take another one she likes better. “Always looking for good head shots,” she tells me. “And a picture with a dog will make me more memorable. He’s very handsome.”
I take a couple of shots of my iced nose and send them to Mom. She’s sent a few texts. I press Save without reading them. Maybe later.
Theo’s texting again, chewing on his thumbnail. Gus seems to have fallen asleep. Dad’s singing along with the radio.
I take the ice away from my nose and check for a new leak. I’m good. So I’ve stopped dripping blood and I’m sitting on a school bus talking with a kinda-hot girl who’s just decided to run away with us. I usually have trouble talking to girls. I’m pretty shy and can never think of what to say. Apparently rescuing a dog makes it easy to keep a conversation going. Good to know, though I’m not sure how many times I can use the technique. Probably more than the average person, given how nuts our family is about dogs and saving them from being put down.
“I like you, you’re impulsive,” Mia says.
I glare at the back of Dad’s head. “It kind of runs in the family.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“Not so much.” Because pretty soon I’ll be quitting good jobs and disappointing kids. It’s a slippery slope, this impulsive thing. And she should talk. She just walked away from
her job and got on a bus with a bunch of strangers to rescue a dog.
“You guys have a beautiful aura,” she tells me.
“That’s not something a person hears every day. What’s it mean?”
“You have good energy, I can tell. I’m sensitive to that, and chakras. It’s a gift.”
This is turning into a very weird trip. But a few hours ago, I thought I’d be stuck in the truck listening to Dad, and here we are on a bus with three other people and I’m eight rows away from him with a girl who’s getting prettier all the time. And she’s smiling. At me.
ATTICUS
The girl who smells like pancakes and bacon, Mia, points out the cows on the side of the road and then we bark at them. No one else thinks this is a good idea. They’re wrong.
I’m going to have to bare my teeth at Theo and my boy if they look at her that way again. I lifted my lip at them when they hesitated by her seat the last time we stopped for gas, and they got the message and sat behind her. She’s mine. They can talk with her, but they can’t sit next to her.
I’ve seen the Bobby person who tried to hit Theo. My boy and I were taking a book to Theo’s apartment and he was in a car parked at the curb. Waiting. And when Theo answered the door, his shoulders were tense and he kept looking past us. I think Bobby was right when he said it’s not over. Theo knows that and that’s why he keeps texting. Mia knows, too; that’s why she keeps watching Theo.
The Fiery Inferno
“Does anyone but me care that we have no idea where we’re going or how long it’s going to take to get there?”
I get a chorus of sleepy no’s. We’ve been on the road for six hours, one speeding ticket, four pit stops, and one drive-thru crisis (Dad wrongly guessed the height of the bus and we took out the lane sign at a hamburger place).
I know we only left home this morning and we’re on a well-traveled interstate, but I have visions of running out of money and gas and being forced to live in the wilderness with Dad. He’ll love it. He’s probably hoping we’ll have to eat small animals we catch with sticks, and strain drinking water through our underpants from puddles on the side of the road.
“I could listen to this engine purr for a long time,” Gus says. He’s sitting in the seat behind Dad, clutching a wrench and eyeing the gizmos on the dashboard, hoping, I guess, that something goes wrong under the hood.
“The further the better,” Theo says. “And it’s good to see some other sights.” He tries not to, but throws a quick glance in Mia’s direction. She notices and blushes. Atticus growls at Theo and I hide my smile.
“Dude, I think your dog is into Mia,” Theo says under his breath.
“That makes three of us,” I whisper back.
He laughs. “Yeah.”
“I was born to travel,” Mia says, breaking up our huddle, “like maybe I’ve got gypsy blood.” She suggested road bingo, Twenty Questions, I Spy, the alphabet game, and Slug Bug, but no one took her up. She must be making a list of license plates, because she happily whispers “Nevada” or “Vermont” to herself and scribbles in her notebook. I take a picture of Atticus resting his head in her lap.
Dad says, “I’ve been itching to take a trip for a long time.”
Who asked you to chip in, Mr. It’ll All Work Out? Then it hits me: I’ve been with Dad for hours and we’ve barely talked. And my mother’s been trying to reach me all day, but it’s easy to avoid her. I could stay on the road forever. Or until my parents get their business straightened out. If they can’t afford hockey camp, can they afford me anymore? Could I have myself declared emancipated? It’s extreme, I know, but it’d be so cool living on my own. Maybe Theo and I could get a place and—
“STOP THE BUS!” Gus roars. The tires squeal and leave black smoking skid marks on the asphalt as Dad stamps on the brakes and the bus comes to a shuddering stop in the gravel on the shoulder of the road. Atticus is barking like a lunatic.
Dad leaps up and hurls himself down the stairs. I’m on my feet before I know what’s going on, flying up the aisle, hot on Dad’s heels, charging to the front door. When Dad and I clear the bus and land on the pavement, we look behind the bus. There’s a burning car on the side of the road about twenty yards from where we’ve stopped.
The car has a few flames darting out from under the hood. Dad and I sprint to the car in what feels like less than a second. He won’t let me close enough to see if anyone’s inside—he’s trying to stay between me and the car. We’re squinting through the smoke from a few feet away, but we can’t see inside. Dad takes another step toward the passenger door, shoving me farther behind him. I surge forward, shoulder to shoulder with Dad. Just then, the burning engine makes a freaky, deep wa-hump and the flames leap up. I hear Mia scream. Atticus barks and Gus shouts, “Get back!”
Dad leaps backwards, yanking me with him. He waves the smoke away from his eyes but keeps heading for the car.
“Wait! I’ll be right back.” I pull Dad away from the car and gesture toward the bus.
I remember having seen a fire extinguisher by the driver’s seat, so I race back, catapult myself up the steps, wrench it free, and tear back. Dad’s circling the car, trying to get closer. He’s got an arm in front of his face, still trying to look inside the car. I push him out of the way, but my hands are shaking so hard I can’t hold the nozzle. He takes the extinguisher from me and points it toward the engine while he squeezes the lever. A spray of white foam muffles the flames and the fire is out. Dad and I take a closer look inside. Empty. All that worry for an abandoned car.
We each take a deep breath. I don’t know about him, but I’m shaking all over and my eyes are watering from the smoke. I look in the ditch at the side of the road: no one. Dad’s scanning the road in both directions. Neither of us can see anyone who might have been driving the car.
All this time cars have been passing us by on the highway. Not a single person stopped to help, though plenty slowed down to look. It was just Dad and me.
We turn back toward the bus. Gus is bent over, catching his breath. From trying to run, I guess. He is pretty old. Mia’s patting his back, trying to get him to take a sip of water, talking on her cell phone. Who’s she calling—the fire department? The police? A news helicopter? They always seem to have footage like this on the evening news. Theo’s eyeing the car and pacing the shoulder. He keeps glancing at his phone and staring into the trees near the side of the road. The wet patches under his arms are back even though it was Dad and me who ran to the car. Atticus is glued to Theo’s side, his eyes locked on Theo.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” I tell Dad.
“And Gus said I was hard on my vehicle.” Dad laughs.
It’s the most we’ve spoken since this morning. Dad opens his mouth, but before he can speak I turn and walk to the bus. I’m not ready for a heart-to-heart yet, even though we did just save each other’s butts. I’m too shaky. We walk in silence but I reach over and grab his arm when he stumbles a little. We pretend not to notice. Or that I’m leaning on him, too.
“You guys are so brave.” Mia throws her arms around me and squishes me in a big hug. I’m having trouble breathing, but I don’t try to pull away. “The rest of us didn’t know what was going on. But you ran toward the fire without a second thought. Like you knew exactly what to do.”
“It was boneheaded,” Gus says, scratching his head, “but you looked pretty fine doing it. Crazy.” He pats Dad and me on our shoulders.
Theo doesn’t say anything; his thumbs are flying over his phone. I hope he’s telling all his friends what Dad and I just did. It’d be cool to have the word spread around town before we get home. He probably took pictures; I’ll have to ask him to forward some to me later. Atticus whines a little as he leans against Theo’s leg. Poor guy. I sit next to him on the shoulder of the road and wrap my arms around his neck. He licks my cheek and I feel the shaking start to fade. My hands feel steadier the longer I pet him.
A cop car, an ambulance, and a fire truck co
me screaming down the highway, followed by a tow truck. Mia must have called everyone. I take the pictures of the men as they climb out of their rigs. It must be boring for them—nothing but a smoking car, four shaky people standing around, and an anxious border collie. And Theo pacing back and forth, texting.
Dad walks over to the policeman, who jots notes as Dad gestures at the car. The paramedics start for us, but we wave them away with thumbs-up; no one’s hurt here. They get back in the ambulance and take off. Once the firefighters see that the fire is out, they climb back onto their truck. The tow truck guy loads the ruined car onto his flatbed. I snap a picture, kicking myself that I didn’t think to take out my phone when the engine was still on fire. That would have been the most dramatic picture I ever took. I’ll have to ask Theo if he took pictures or just stood there texting.
“I never saw a car fire before,” I say.
“As these things go,” Mia says, “it was pretty tame. Sometimes the tires explode.”
“Why do you know so much about burning cars?”
“I dated a guy who was kind of known for car fires.”
“How does someone get known for that?”
“Insurance scam. Getting rid of evidence. Making a point about territory. You know—there are lots of reasons to set fire to a car. He knew most of them.” Mia sounds almost … breezy.
“What kind of aura did he have?” I ask.
“Very dark and heavy.”
I look over at Theo to see his reaction. Nothing. He’s pacing and texting. Atticus is trotting back and forth next to Theo, his eyes never leaving the woods on the side of the road.
“What kind of riffraff have you gotten caught up with, missy?” Gus snaps. “Sounds like the kinda people who’ll steal from ya, gut ya, leave ya for dead in the ditch.” He notices Mia’s expression. “Don’t act so surprised. These things happen.”
Before Mia can answer, Dad heads over to us as the cop drives away. “Back in the bus. We’ve got a border collie pup waiting for us.”