by Gary Paulsen
We all climb on, and Dad pulls into traffic. Atticus must be rubbing off on Theo, because he keeps looking out the side windows and behind us. Atticus surprises me and sits not with Mia, but next to Theo. From my seat behind them, they look like their heads are connected, the way they swivel together looking out the windows. Theo pulls out his phone when he gets another text. It reminds me.
I send a text to my mom. I need a few screens to tell the whole story of Dad and me and the fire.
“Dad.” He nearly drives off the road at the sound of my voice. Can’t blame him after the silent treatment I’ve been giving him. “I just texted Mom, told her what happened.”
“Thanks, son. I better call her, reassure her we’re okay. Gotta call the girl who’s holding the dog for us, too, let her know—”
“—that we’re hopelessly lost but making good time.” I finish his sentence. It’s an inside joke from the Boy Scouts hiking trip we took a couple years ago.
It’s good to see Dad smile at me in the rearview mirror. I smile back, but just a little one so he knows we haven’t worked everything out yet.
ATTICUS
The car that was on fire was the same one I saw Bobby sitting in outside Theo’s place.
As soon as he saw the car, Theo started looking along the side of the road. So did I. We didn’t see anyone. Theo stopped looking once he started texting. I kept looking. I couldn’t smell anything because of the smoke. I know Bobby’s smell from when I bit him this morning.
When the cop came, Theo pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt and kept his face down.
Theo’s ice cold when I lean against him, but he can’t stop sweating.
When we got back on the bus, he jammed all his stuff in his bag that had been on the seat next to him, and he’s holding the shoulder strap so tight his knuckles are white.
We’re both watching out the windows. Because someone is after him.
The Drag Race
“Uh, Dad? How fast are you going? It feels like we’re flying, and speeding in a bright yellow school bus isn’t the kind of thing that slips under the radar.”
Radar.
As soon as the word leaves my mouth, I know I’ve jinxed us. Sure enough, I hear the sirens and see the lights from behind. Dad mutters to himself and jerks the bus to the side of the road, spewing shoulder dust and pebbles in our wake.
“Another cop.” Theo sighs and rubs his face.
“Another ticket.” Dad sighs and rubs his face.
“Another delay.” Mia bites her lip. “I know your dad says it’ll all work out, but I’m worried about getting the dog in time.”
She’s not the only one. His picture flashes through my mind and I get edgy. I hope Dad’s been keeping in touch with the shelter to let them know we’re on the way.
Gus turns in his seat to watch the cop walk to the bus from where he pulled in behind us. “Yup, we just blew past the duck pond. That’s what they call the place off the highway right outside of town where cops sit an’ wait fer fools to speed.”
“Walked right into that one,” Dad agrees.
We all stand and exit the bus together. The cop is the poster child for the police academy. Spic and span. I straighten up and square my shoulders as he approaches. Theo slumps against the side of the bus. Has he been wearing that baseball hat all day? I don’t think so, but now the brim is pulled down so low I can’t even catch his eye.
Mia smiles and waves, like this might be a social call. The cop raises a hand to wave back but then tries to act as if he’s lifting his arm to gesture to Dad to move closer to him. Nice save.
Dad walks toward the cop and Atticus follows. I suddenly realize our dog is not on a leash, nor does he have a license or ID tag on his collar. My mouth is too dry to whistle Atticus back to me. I can only hope this guy has a soft spot for dogs and won’t add an off-leash violation to our ticket.
And I know we’re going to get a ticket by the way the officer taps his citation book against his thigh. Dad’s gotten a ton of speeding tickets. The last one was this morning. So I should be used to the routine by now. But there’s something about a law officer walking toward us writing a ticket that puts fear into my gut.
“Good afternoon, Officer. How fast did you clock me?” Dad asks. I wish I didn’t know that he wants to find out if he’s broken his personal record.
The cop looks uncomfortable.
“I don’t need independent confirmation to know that that bus was going well in excess of posted speed guidelines.”
“Oh, well, then: How about you let me off with a warning? I’ll drive more slowly, and we can all be on our way.” Dad’s negotiating. That’s how he describes trying to hustle out of a ticket.
“Do you have a license to drive a bus, sir?”
“Yes, I do!” Dad pulls out his driver’s license and hands it to the cop with a big grin. “And I’ll save you looking it up on the computer: I already got a ticket for speeding today.”
“Sir, this is not a joke. Keeping the roads safe is the duty of every driver and every police officer.”
“Aren’t you going a little overboard?” Dad asks.
“Uh … Dad?” Giving the cop a hard time? That’s the best idea you have right now? My head’s about to explode. I glance over at the cop and see the nameplate pinned next to his badge: Sgt. Laurence. I wish everyone wore a name tag; this is the third time today it’s come in handy.
“Would it help if I told you I was speeding for a good reason? We’re hurrying to save a dog—a homeless puppy, actually—and staying at the speed limit isn’t getting us there as fast as we need to.” Dad holds up his phone with a picture of the puppy. Sergeant Laurence waves it away. Not a dog person. Bummer.
“It’s dangerous. There’s a speed limit for a reason and that reason is public safety,” the sergeant says, winding up to give a lecture.
“I’m a very safe driver,” Dad says with a straight face. I could strangle Dad right now. Or turn and start walking home. Theo looks like he’s considering it.
“My job is keeping the roads safe, one speeder at a time. And if I happen to write the most tickets in the entire department every month, well, so be it.”
Oh, great: Dad and the cop are both competitive.
I catch sight of Gus walking around the cruiser, examining it. He pokes his head in the driver’s seat window and studies the dashboard. Sergeant Laurence must see me looking past him, because he turns, does a perfect double take, and hurries toward Gus.
“You. Step away from the cruiser and produce your license.” Dad, Atticus, Mia, and I follow him toward the cop car. Theo hangs back.
“Nicer’n I thought a cop’s ride would be,” Gus tells him. “Speedometer says this thing goes one sixty. You ever taken it that fast?”
“Got to ninety-eight once, in pursuit, but—Just a minute.” He turns back to Dad. “We’re talking about your speed limit.”
“I’ve always wanted to get behind the wheel of a police car,” Dad says. “Mind if I just slide in, see what it’s like?”
“It’s not an amusement park ride.”
“Should be,” Gus says.
The officer almost smiles.
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Mia. Are we going to get the ticket or talk about cars?
“Guys and cars,” she whispers back. “Shhh, don’t ruin it. They’re bonding.”
“You ain’t felt nothin’ till you’ve driven a bus,” Gus tells him. “Wanna try it?”
“How’s it handle? But—wait—I’m giving him a ticket. We’re not test-driving each other’s cars.”
“How about we race instead?” Dad says. “I lose, you write me the ticket. You lose, we shake hands and walk away with a warning.”
“Uh, Dad? That’s not—I mean, um, asking a cop if he wants to, uh, drag race? Really?” I step forward and give the cop a shaky smile. “I’m sorry, Sergeant, but my dad, um, well—”
“—has a great idea.” Sergeant Laurence looks as shocked to have said thos
e words as I am to hear them. “It’s wrong, I know, and rules were not made to be broken. But … but …” He’s trying to do the right thing, I can tell. “But I want to drive that bus and I’ve gotta see how fast my cruiser can go!”
“Let’s roll.” Dad opens the car door and slides behind the wheel.
I want to say “Dad! You’re crazy!” and remind the cop this is not a safe-road kind of deal, but Mia is squeezing my arm, her eyes glowing. Atticus is shifting his weight back and forth; he’s picked up on Dad’s excitement. Even Theo is lurking behind Mia, peeking out from under his cap, waiting to see how this goes down. So I keep my mouth shut.
Sergeant Laurence reaches in the cruiser and disengages the camera, makes a quick radio call, telling someone named Marlene, “I’m taking a coffee break for the next ten minutes.”
“It’s not a race,” he says to Dad. “Just let’s see how long it takes both of us to accelerate from this spot to that billboard.” He points to a sign a few hundred yards down the highway that’s so deserted and straight it seems to have been built for a speed test.
“No big deal,” Dad agrees.
I feel dizzy and look around. Not a car in sight. Sergeant Laurence, Dad, and Gus are all bouncing slightly, trying to contain their energy.
“You ain’t never gonna believe how that bus handles,” Gus brags as Dad revs the engine.
I find myself walking toward the bus with the sergeant, getting on right after he does, even though I have no idea why. I look back and see Gus climb into the passenger seat of the cruiser next to Dad. I watch the sergeant get settled in the driver’s seat of the bus. Dad brings the cruiser up flush with the bus, like we’re at the starting line to a NASCAR race.
I’m about to jump up and put an end to this craziness when Atticus leaps into the bus, takes the seat behind the driver across the aisle from me, and barks twice.
“Sounds like he just said ‘Hit it,’ ” Laurence tells me.
“You got that right,” a voice—mine?—calls out.
The cop revs the engine and peers through the windshield. Mia’s standing about ten feet in front of us, between the cruiser and the bus, and she’s raised her arm. I can’t hear her, but I read her lips: Three, two, one, go! She drops her arm like she’s waving a start flag.
Sergeant Laurence punches the gas pedal to the floor. For less than a second, the bus just roars, completely still as if held in place by a giant thumb, but then it leaps ahead with a sickening jolt that throws me back in my seat. The sergeant is screaming, Atticus is barking, I’m barely breathing, and we’re smoking down the road.
I look out the window and see Dad in the lane next to us; he’s grinning like the maniac he is and keeping the cruiser neck and neck with the bus. I take his picture from the window—a total blur.
And then it’s over. We’ve passed the billboard—I don’t even know who got there first. We tumble out of the bus and we’re hooting and high-fiving and jumping around, punching the air and laughing uncontrollably.
“That, my friend, was a dead tie,” Dad says to Sergeant Laurence. “But, man, these beasts kicked it into high gear.”
“Sorry it’s over.” The cop wipes the sweat out of his eyes. “We should turn around and get back to your friends, though. We stranded those two on the side of the road.”
“We could race backwards,” Dad dares. I was right—he’s all kinds of crazy. And, right now, the coolest guy on the planet. I must’ve caught speed fever, because it sounds like the best idea ever.
Laurence considers Dad’s offer. I hope he doesn’t point out that the cut in the road a few yards away would be perfect for turning the bus and the cruiser around to drive back. He squints down the highway. Dead calm. Not a car in sight.
“Tell you what: Let’s split the difference. We’ll drive backwards—no sense driving any further trying to find a place to turn around”—he winks at me; he must have seen me staring at the turnaround—“but under the speed limit, and on the shoulder of the road, and make sure your hazard lights are on.”
“That’s a deal. See you on the flip side.” Dad clambers back into the cruiser, waits for Gus to climb in, and then hurtles down the center of the highway in reverse. He’s back to the starting point before I’ve taken two steps toward the bus.
“Yeah, I figured that’s what he had in mind,” Sergeant Laurence tells me as we climb back on board. I look at the driver’s seat, then at him. I don’t dare ask, but I’m hoping he’ll read my mind.
“You’re as nuts as your old man. Sorry, kid, you don’t have a license. No driving.” But he smiles. “I wish I could let you. But I’ve pushed this whole situation way too far. Anything more would be asking for trouble.”
Once we’re back by the cruiser, when I jump out of the bus to celebrate, the first thing I see is a new cop standing alongside his cruiser on the shoulder. He has his citation book out and a stunned look on his face.
Before I can make a sound, Sergeant Laurence leaps out of the bus, hooting and hollering, “Did you see us?”
The new cop clears his throat and takes a breath. I’m sure he’s about to end the first cop’s career and haul the rest of us to jail.
Sergeant Laurence looks at him, grins, and flips the bus keys to him. “Your turn, Captain Seavers. It. Is. Awesome. You can’t believe you’re driving a school bus. Feels more like a rocket or a torpedo.”
Seavers looks like he doesn’t know whether to holler or laugh. There’s an agonizingly long pause while he studies the bus, then looks each of us up and down. Finally, he hands Dad the keys to the bus and turns to the first cop.
“Not today, son, but thanks for the offer. Of what, I’m not sure, since officially, I haven’t been anywhere near this stretch of highway all day long. Marlene was worried when you radioed that you were taking a break, because you never take breaks, even when you’re supposed to, and so I came out to make sure you were okay. Shame I couldn’t find you. I must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He shrugs. “Catch you later, right?”
Captain Seavers tips his hat at Mia, slaps me on the back, and walks to his car. He pats the hood of the bus on his way.
Mia leans over and whispers to me: “See? What’d I tell you about the way guys bond over cars? Works every time.”
We take a bunch of pictures of Dad and Gus leaning against the cop car and I look over to see Laurence and Mia entering each other’s numbers on their phones. Theo’s going to be frosted about this if the cop is making a play for Mia.
When I get back on the bus, Theo’s already in his seat, looking at a map. I hope he didn’t miss the race. I try to remember when I lost sight of him after we got off the bus.
Before I can ask what he thought of the race or razz him about Mia and Sergeant Laurence, Dad yells, “Next stop: the shelter! Let’s get that pup!”
We lurch off the shoulder and back onto the road. In the fast lane. Speeding, of course. Dad never learns.
As we drive off, I wave good-bye out the back window to the speck that is Sergeant Laurence.
ATTICUS
The race was the most fun I’ve had all day. We should have run, of course, and not driven, but my boss doesn’t run. Can’t blame him; only two legs.
I walk down the aisle and listen to everyone talk. Even the boss and my boy have more to say to each other. Talking is a good thing. Telling the truth is even better. I know when people lie, because their eyes get pinchy. Everyone on this bus has lied about something today. Lots of tight eyes and hunched-up shoulders. Lonely looks the same way; smells different, but looks just like lying.
They can fool each other, but not me.
Theo didn’t like seeing the highway patrolman. He hid his face from the first one and he went to hide in the bus when the second cop showed up. He grabbed a map from the sunshade over the driver’s seat and is tracing a line with his finger and nodding.
He’s planning to run away.
The Big Picture
DONT B STOOPID.
&nbs
p; That’s the text Theo gets. I’m hanging over the back of his seat and can see his phone. He and Mia are sitting together. I’m right behind them. She’s finally broken us down and we’re playing rock-paper-scissors, which is the dumbest game ever, not to mention that the inside of my forearm is bright red and stinging from the finger slaps Theo whacks every time I lose. And I’m losing a lot. So when his phone buzzes, I’m glad for the distraction and in the perfect position to read his reply.
If his message were being sent in sign language, all he’d need to do is raise his middle finger.
“Uh, Theo? Everything cool?”
“Yeah. No. Everything’s fine, I just don’t want to play anymore.” He turns away to look out the window, ignoring Mia and me.
Theo’s not just being rude, there’s something weird about him. Mia glances at me and I know I’m not the only one who thinks that.
But she’s not going to say anything and neither is Theo. I would, if I could think of the right words. I flop back in my seat and take a picture of my arm before the red marks fade.
I start scrolling through the pictures I’ve taken. Theo texting. Theo texting. Theo texting. Geez. Now I know why my mother goes berserk when she thinks I’m on my phone all the time. Super annoying.
I look at a picture I took of Atticus on the side of the road when we stopped for the race. Theo’s in the background. I enlarge the image and I can tell he’s trying to hide his face. From Sergeant Laurence? I squint harder at the screen. I wish I had a bigger screen and better resolution, because it’s hard to tell for certain, but Theo looks like he’s trying to be as invisible as he can. How did I miss that? Oh, yeah, I was focusing on Atticus.
What else didn’t I see that I took a picture of? I flip through a few more shots to earlier in the day. I took a picture of the mess Theo made dumping his jacket and books and snacks out of his bag. When he first boarded the bus, he spread his stuff across his seat, to mark his territory, I guess. But now his area is neat and his duffel bag is packed.