Over the Wall

by Chris Fabry

  Chad’s mom was one of the first people to arrive at the hospital. She went to her husband and hugged him. She was a pretty woman, classy, well dressed, and it looked like she’d just come out of a salon. If Jamie believed what her friends said, Mrs. Devalon had a day spa right in her house and servants that catered to her every need.

  Jamie’s mom and dad were next through the door. Jamie ran to her mom and hugged her.

  “Where’s Kellen?” Jamie said when she pulled away, looking past them for her 10-year-old brother.

  “We dropped him at a friend’s house,” her mom said. “Jamie, what happened?”

  “I was at the track with the Devalons. Chad had a problem and . . .”

  Mr. Hardwick walked up and shook her dad’s hand. Jamie knew he could tell something was wrong because he squinted at her. “They didn’t know anything about your test run?”

  “About what?” Jamie’s dad said.

  “I rode in one of the Devalon cars at the track,” Jamie said. “Just a test to see what my time would be.”

  Her dad looked like somebody had sucker punched him. “And whose idea was that?”

  “It was mine,” Butch Devalon said behind him, and Jamie’s dad turned. “I wanted to see how she’d do against Chad before I nominated her.”

  “For what?” her dad said. Then a look of realization came over him. “You want to sponsor . . . ?”

  Her mom put a hand on his arm. “Dale, this is not the time or place. We can talk about it later.”

  “You’re right.” Her dad nodded and pursed his lips. “Butch, how’s Chad doing?”

  “He’s a tough kid. That six-point harness probably saved his life. But he’s banged up. That’s for sure.”

  “What happened?” her mom said.

  “Looked like his tire just shredded on turn three. He fought it into the wall, but it got loose and went sideways on him.”

  “He went airborne?” her dad said.

  Mr. Devalon nodded. “He said he closed his eyes as he flipped. Then all he saw were the sparks from the racetrack and the grass and dirt coming at him under the windshield.”

  “Well, I’m thankful he’s okay,” Jamie’s dad said, then looked at Jamie, as if he were saying, That could have been you.

  Nurses and staff ran down the hall, and Mrs. Devalon looked at her husband across the room. “Something’s wrong with Chad.”

  Chapter 4

  Bad News

  SOMEONE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR of the trailer, and Tim stuffed the brown envelope under his pillow and quietly walked to the kitchen. A thin curtain blocked the window on the door, but Tim noticed someone standing there, and he froze. It looked like a man, not Vera’s friend from down the street who came over and talked and cried with her about her marriage and all her troubles in what Tim called a boo-hoo-woe-is-me session.

  The man knocked again and shifted from foot to foot. He took something from his front pocket, dipped his head, and just stood there a few moments. Then he bent over out of Tim’s sight, and something plopped against the front door before he walked down the creaky steps.

  Tim inched forward, looking out the front window at a red SUV parked in front. He finally recognized the lanky frame of the pastor at the local megachurch. The guy who had hired Tim and then fired him after Tim had gotten into a fight with a guy named Jeff and his goony friends.

  When the man pulled out, Tim opened the door and something fell into the room. He wasn’t sure, but it looked a lot like his dad’s diary with a page paper-clipped to the front.

  Tim,

  I’m sorry I missed you. I heard about your run-in again with Jeff and his friends, and I have a friend at the reptile park who found this floating in one of the ponds. I figured you’d want it back.

  I’ve been thinking a lot about your future. If you ever need to talk or just a safe place to go, please call me.

  Tim saw the pastor’s name and number, crumpled the note, and threw it in the trash. He couldn’t believe one of the gators hadn’t chomped the notebook. It was three times its normal size—water will do that to paper, get inside it and expand it. He’d heard that in his science class one day when he was halfway paying attention. (Tim remembered a joke of his dad’s, that he was too poor to pay attention.) He flipped through the pages and saw the faded writing stained with mud. He couldn’t read most of it, but at least he could see some of his dad’s writing.

  He opened the trash can lid and brushed away some grit and grime from the pages, then closed the cover and ran a hand over his dad’s name on the front.

  I guess not everybody in churches are jerks, Tim thought.

  The phone rang and Tim picked up the cordless handset. Tyson didn’t have caller ID. He said they were lucky to afford phone service, let alone all the bells and whistles. It was Lisa, the social worker he’d been talking to since he’d moved to Florida.

  “I have some bad news, Tim. The Maxwells have had an emergency and need to reschedule the trip.”

  “You mean they’re not coming?” Tim said. “They don’t want me, do they?”

  “No, that’s not true,” Lisa said quickly. “They’re really excited about you coming to live with them, but there was a wreck of some sort, and instead of Dale driving down to pick you up tomorrow, he’s going to have to push that back.”

  “What kind of wreck?”

  “I’m not sure, but you have to believe me that this doesn’t have anything to do with their wanting you up in North Carolina.”

  “When will I go?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I should hear from them tomorrow.”

  Tim got quiet, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He chewed the thin line of skin when he was nervous or scared or felt bad about something. He even did it in his sleep and sometimes woke up biting down.

  “Tim, are you okay?” Lisa said. “Is something wrong?”

  He walked into his room and sat on the bed, pulling the lawyer’s letter out and turning it in his hand. “No, I’m all right. Tell them they can take their time. And if they have second thoughts, I’ll understand.”

  “They’re not having second thoughts. Just get your stuff packed and be ready to go.”

  I already got my stuff packed, Tim thought. Took me two minutes. “I’ll be ready,” he said.

  Chapter 5

  A Dangerous Sport

  JAMIE SAT IN A PLASTIC CHAIR, a leg pulled to her chest, and watched people pace in the waiting room. Her dad had gone down the hall to make a call, and when he returned, he didn’t make eye contact, which was a sure sign that he was ticked. She wondered what he’d say when they got home, but at the moment it was just a waiting game to find out about Chad. The doctors hadn’t come out, and they shooed his mother out of the room soon after all the commotion.

  Jamie’s mom sat with an arm around her, not saying much. She’d given her a look and a “You okay?” That was about it, and it was fine with Jamie. She really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  The sounds of cell phone rings (tweets and buzzes and “We Will Rock You”) broke the uncomfortable silence. That and a TV mounted on the wall showing a game show. People stared at it, drawn like human moths to the glow of the screen.

  Why do they even have a TV here? Jamie thought.

  One man had his hand wrapped, and blood oozed through the gauze. He pointed at the screen and talked to it, giving the contestant advice. A man in the corner leaned forward with his elbows on his knees while his two children fought over toys in a play area. His boy held a bloody bandage over a wound on his head while he tried to put a couple of LEGO blocks together, and his daughter had discovered a dirty-faced doll.

  Butch Devalon wandered toward the front window and stared through long vertical blinds at the orange glow above the mountains.

  Jamie went to get a drink from the water fountain, and when she passed by him, she paused. “You haven’t heard any more, have you?” She knew he hadn’t because she’d been watching him the whole time, but it was the only thing she could
think of to say.

  “I don’t know what all the fuss was about,” he growled. “I guess they’re giving him the once-over, or maybe it’s a twice-over now. When those doctors get ahold of you, they’re like snapping turtles.”

  “How so?” Jamie said.

  “You ever see one of those at Lake Norman? A turtle will bite and hang on for dear life. Won’t let go for anything.”

  Jamie didn’t like the comparison of doctors to turtles, especially since they were trying to help Chad, but she wasn’t about to say anything.

  Mr. Devalon got a far-off look and spoke as if it didn’t matter whether anyone was around or not. “You kids think you’re invincible, that nothing can touch you. All it takes is one mistake. . . .”

  “Chad didn’t do anything wrong,” Jamie said. “You said yourself it was the tire—”

  “Mistake, accident, whatever you want to call it. It only takes one.”

  “Then why do you let Chad race?” she said.

  “Because it’s what he wants to do, just like you. It’s all he talks about or thinks about. If he’s not down at the garage, he’s at the track or working on some car. Or racing one of those video games.”

  “Maybe we’re going too fast—trying to move up and all,” Jamie said.

  The man frowned, and lines formed around his mustache and all over his face like an expressway around some big city. “Just remember this, standing here in a hospital waiting room. This is a dangerous sport, young lady.” He shook his head and stared out the window. “I shouldn’t have brought you in on this.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Thought it would light a fire under Chad.”

  “As if he needs that,” Jamie said.

  “He leaves a lot on the track. Gets tentative. Brakes when he ought to speed up. I wanted to push him, and I’ve never seen him race harder than when you’re on the track.”

  “He doesn’t want to lose to a girl.”

  “I guess. I can’t blame him. But look where it got him.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and index finger.

  “So you were using me to get him to speed up?” Jamie said. “Looks like it worked. But that means you never intended to give me a shot in the first place.”

  Butch Devalon shrugged, and a look of despair crept over him. Jamie had never seen that in all the years she’d watched him race. He always looked so confident and sure. It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him.

  “Maybe if Chad doesn’t make it back, I’ll have you—”

  “Don’t talk that way,” Jamie interrupted. “I’m surprised he didn’t want the ambulance to take a spin around the track before they brought him here. He’ll probably want to do the same on the way home.”

  Mr. Devalon smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I hope so.”

  Jamie turned and leaned against the glass, her arms folded. “Earlier you said you were going to nominate me for something. For what? What were you talking about?”

  Before he could answer, a swinging door opened, and a man in a white coat walked out. “I’m looking for the Devalons.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Devalon walked over and shook the man’s hand. It was clear the doctor didn’t watch NASCAR because he didn’t light up like most people did when they saw a driver. The doctor spoke in a hushed voice, but the waiting room was so quiet (other than the TV) that Jamie could hear. “Chad’s awake and talking now. If you want to see him, you can go on back.”

  “What was the problem earlier?” Mrs. Devalon said.

  “He passed out when he tried to get up too quickly. It may be that he was just light-headed.”

  “Can he go home?” Mr. Devalon said.

  “We want to run some more tests and keep him overnight. Only as a precaution. There may have been some internal injuries, and we want to make sure he’s 100 percent.”

  Chad would not like staying in any hospital room, even if they had cable and he could watch SPEED.

  No sooner had the Devalons left than the waiting room door opened and Cassie and her mother hurried inside. Cassie rushed to Jamie and hugged her. They went to the corner, where they were semialone, and Jamie told her friend everything that had happened.

  “You never told your parents about this, did you?” Cassie said.

  Jamie rolled her eyes. “And I’m gonna be in big trouble. I should give up my racing dreams and settle for a life of pizza delivery.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Cassie said. “Your parents will forgive you . . . after they lock you up for a year. Besides, you like pizza.”

  Jamie smiled. Cassie was super spiritual, but she also had a good sense of humor. She wiped her eyes and looked at her friend. “What happens if Chad isn’t okay? He could have been killed out there today.”

  Cassie nodded. “I’ve been scared for you ever since I saw you in those little cars at the summer shoot-out thing—”

  “Bandoleros.”

  “Yeah. I just don’t see how anybody can race and not think about God.”

  There it was. The God factor Jamie had been waiting for. In almost every conversation with Cassie and every time they went to the mall or out for something to eat at the Pit Stop, God came up. Not in a pushy way like someone trying to sell you soap or jewelry from a catalog but as a natural part of the conversation.

  “Cassie, do you ever not think about God?” Jamie said with a hint of a smile.

  Cassie remained serious. “I just think about guys like Chad and how far they are from God. I mean, I don’t care how many cars you have, how big your house is, or how famous your dad is—if your life ends, what good is all that?”

  Jamie knew they were talking about Chad, but she couldn’t help thinking about herself. She was going after all those things with her life.

  Butch Devalon returned to the waiting room as the youth pastor from church, Pastor Gordon, came in. Pastor Gordon walked up to him and shook hands.

  “How did he know about this?” Jamie whispered to Cassie.

  “I called him,” she said.

  “Our entire church has been praying for you and your family,” Pastor Gordon said to Butch Devalon. “I’d be glad to pray with you right now if you’d like.”

  Mr. Devalon’s gaze darted around the waiting room, and he let go of Pastor Gordon’s hand. “We don’t need that. Chad’s going to be okay.”

  “I understand,” Pastor Gordon said. “I just wanted you to know we’re here and we care.”

  “Yeah,” Butch Devalon said. And he walked away.

  Chapter 6

  The Nomination

  JAMIE OFFERED TO PICK UP Kellen on her way home from the hospital, hoping she could get on her parents’ good side. They wanted to stay a little longer at the emergency room and talk with Pastor Gordon, so they took her up on the offer. Pastor Gordon was his usual cheery self. The snub from Butch Devalon didn’t seem to bother him.

  Kellen was curious, wanting to hear every detail of the crash, but Jamie wasn’t in a talkative mood. She knew she treated him like a nuisance most of the time, but what were little brothers for?

  “What did you do at Derek’s house?” she said, trying to change the subject.

  “That’s not Derek’s house. Derek lives down the street. I was at Paul’s.”

  “Then what did you do with Paul? Play basketball?”

  Kellen rolled his eyes. “Don’t try to act interested, Jamie. I know you’re not.”

  “I am interested. I ask you about school all the time.”

  “Why did you pick me up?” Kellen said. “You in trouble with Mom and Dad?”

  Jamie stared at the road. How does he figure this stuff out?

  “I’ll bet Devalon offered you a spot on his junior race team or something, and they’re mad you didn’t tell them about it. Right?”

  “I’m not on any Devalon team. But thanks for not telling them about what he said down in Daytona.”

  Kellen looked out the window. “If it gets you killed, Mom and Dad won’t thank me.”

/>   “I’m not going to get killed.”

  The message light flickered on the answering machine as they walked inside, and Jamie hit the button. Five people from church had called to find out about the accident, but the last message was an older man interested in Jamie’s Legend car. She wrote his number down and hurried to her room when she saw her parents pulling into the driveway.

  “Why are you selling the car?” the man asked when she called.

  “I’m moving up to a bigger car. I need the money to buy one.”

  He said he would come by tomorrow to look at it, so she gave him her address. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs and a light knock on her bedroom door. It was her father.

  Jamie had always idolized her dad. She shared his love of racing and the adventure of climbing into a car and going as fast as you possibly could. However, she did not like the look on his face.

  “We need to talk,” her dad said.

  “I’m sorry I went behind your back and raced Chad’s car,” Jamie said quickly, running her words together. “I won’t do it again.”

  Her dad sat on her bed and ran a hand through his thick hair. Funny that her mom wasn’t here. Usually when they came down hard on her, they put up a unified front like some military maneuver. Operation Jamie.

  “Any change in Chad?” Jamie said before her dad could speak.

  “Looks like he’s going to be okay.”

  “That’s good, because it was scary seeing that crash, Dad.” When she got nervous or was about to be nailed for something, she talked faster. “I’ve never seen anybody alone on the track get into that kind of accident. Really messed the car up. I don’t think they can save it. Of course, with Mr. Devalon’s money it doesn’t matter. . . .”

  Her dad just stared at her until her words slowed and sputtered to a stop like an engine running out of gas.

  Then she revved again. “I thought you were going to leave for Florida tonight.”

  “Got a little sidetracked by what happened. Had to cancel.”