The Winner's Game(42)
Mom grabs a folded newspaper from the coffee table and points to a small article, circled in pen, which verifies her claim. “We’ve got thirty minutes to get there, so if Ann is driving, we’d better not waste any more time standing here.”
As quick as we can, Bree and Cade race out into the sun and climb in the backseat of the Walrus. Mom and I each take our places up front, with me behind the wheel!
“Remind me again why there are no seat belts,” says Bree.
“When this car came out, I don’t think they’d been invented yet,” Mom replies in all seriousness. “But don’t worry, the Walrus is made of solid steel. If anyone hits us, they’ll wish they hadn’t. That’s the only reason I’m letting Ann drive at all.”
“Well, at least it’s an automatic,” I say as I familiarize myself with the buttons and gadgets up front.
“Afraid not, dear,” Mom snickers. “They used to put the shifter up there to keep it out of the way. ‘Three on the column,’ they called it, because it’s only got three gears and because the shifter is on the steering column. It takes a little getting used to.” Mom gives brief instructions on the gear pattern, as well as how to use a clutch. For practice, I shift through the gears several times with the engine off, and then finally turn it on.
The car lunges forward and immediately dies.
“Foot on the clutch, dear. Always when stopped, foot on the clutch. And the brake.”
Behind me, Cade whispers, “I really think we’re gonna need seat belts.”
“Hey, I’m doing my best.” I turn the key again, and this time the Walrus stays on. With the car in reverse I ease off the clutch. To everyone’s surprise—especially mine—the thing backs up without incident. Going from first gear to second while moving is a little rough, but by the time we’ve gone the six blocks to the main intersection, I’m really getting the hang of it.
The right turn onto the main street looks like it should be a cinch, but every time I think I should go, a car comes buzzing by. “Now or never, Ann,” Mom finally says.
On her command I pop the clutch and punch it, sending everyone lurching, but somehow the maneuver lands us safely in the eastbound lane. “There.” I sigh mightily. “Easy.”
“How’s your heart?” Bree asks, “Because mine is on fire.”
“Don’t ask.”
As we approach the next block, a pedestrian near the strip mall catches Cade’s eye. “Hey, Ann,” he says, pointing. “Isn’t that what’s his name?”
I nervously look to my left, and then refocus on the road ahead. One quick glance in the mirror confirms that my cheeks are taking on the burgundy tone of the Walrus’s beautiful exterior.
“Uh-oh,” says Mom as she catches a glimpse of the young man walking on the sidewalk.
“It’s nobody,” I say awkwardly before she can ask. “Just some kid from the candy store.”
“A rich kid,” remarks Cade.
“No, that’s his last name. Remember?”
Bree is still craning her neck, gawking at him as we drive away. “You actually met a boy? And you got his name? All without me?”
“I didn’t ‘get’ his name. He just came right out and told us his name was Tanner. End of story.”
“I didn’t get a great view,” Bree continues. “Is he cute?”
“Let’s just drop it, OK? Yes, I met a boy. I’ve met lots in my life. No biggie. Now, stop distracting me while I’m driving, or you’ll get us all killed.”
Bree giggles but doesn’t say anything else.
After a long silence, Cade asks Mom if she knows what the movie is about.
She turns in her seat so she can see them in the back. “Didn’t you read the whole ad? It’s about some kids who get caught up in a modern-day pirate adventure. It should be right up your alley, Cade.”
A pirate movie? Oh great…here comes Pirate Boy…
“Arrgg,” bellows my brother, right on cue. “That be perfect for Cap’n Cade!”
Mom laughs, but Bree is quick to pounce. “Not cool. The pirate thing was cute for like one minute, and then it was totes obnoxious.”
“No more obnoxious than ‘totes,’” I say casually.
“Avast,” Cade tells Bree indignantly. “Ye called me ‘cute.’”
“I said you were obnoxious.”
“Aye. Obnoxious be more piratey.”
“‘Piratey’ isn’t a word,” I point out. “Just be quiet, OK, Cade? We don’t want you to be a pirate. Not today.”
“Arrgg,” he repeats under his breath. “Just ’cuz ye be boring, don’t mean we should all be boring.”