The Last Exit to Normal Page 14

  I didn’t understand it. He’d taken twice as many shots as I had and I’d watched his face. He hadn’t even winced. I decided skeet shooting was a sport that would be great if it didn’t hurt so much. “Thanks.”

  “Going bird-hunting next week. Interested?”

  I sighed inside. “Sure.”

  He pointed at me with his beer. “Shoulder hurt?”

  “Naw.”

  He laughed. “Good deal.” He finished his beer, crumpled the can, then threw it in the bed of the truck. “Let’s go.”

  Two hours later, after a hot bath and dinner in my room because I didn’t want to be around Dad, my shoulder was already turning purple. I lay on my bed when Edward knocked. “Entrez.”

  Edward came in, holding the phone. “For you.”

  I took it with my left hand, since my right arm wouldn’t really move. “Hello?”

  “Hi.”

  “Hey, Kim.”

  She cleared her throat. “Are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  “Because of my brother.”

  I frowned into the phone. “I had a great time. Shot some skeet, you know? I got a few, too.”

  “He told me.” Then she paused. “Ben, I’ve got to apologize to you. I’m totally mad at Dirk for what he did, and I had no idea.”

  “What?”

  “He gave you a box of double-aught magnums to shoot with. I’m sorry.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that what you were shooting was over twice as powerful as what he was shooting. It’s also why you only hit a few. There’s only two lead slugs in each shell, as opposed to around fifty or sixty small ones in his.” She paused. “I’m surprised your shoulder isn’t broken.”

  I groaned. Now I knew why Dirk had laughed after he asked me if my shoulder hurt.

  She was hopping mad. “He thought it was a good joke. You know, breaking the kid into shooting. I could kill him.”

  I smiled. It was a good joke. “Paybacks are a bitch.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Besides not being able to move my shoulder, I’m perfect. Wanna arm-wrestle?”

  “No, but he’ll apologize when you see him next. I told him he had to.”

  I laughed. “Hey, I took it like a man, didn’t I?”

  She laughed this time. “He said you actually did okay. He was surprised you went on for as long as you did.”

  After we hung up, I oozed farther into the bed, the only working part of my body, unfortunately, my brain. I thought about Kim and Dirk and Uncle Morgan and all the things that had happened in this Podunk town so far, and then, Ron Jamison sprung into my head.

  Why had he followed me and Kim? To me, it went beyond the smart-ass townie giving the new kid a hard time. It went into the creepy and weird. What was he doing? Had he planned on scaring us for a good “boo!” but decided not to? Then I wondered how he knew we had plans to meet at one in the morning. Not exactly a common hour for him to be walking by and seeing us sneak out, that was for sure.

  I decided there was a possibility that somebody in the hamburger joint had heard me ask Kim to meet and they’d told Ron the plan. I hoped it was that, and nothing more than Ron Jamison having a major malfunction with me.

  CHAPTER 17

  The next day went by with the misery of my shoulder reminding me that Dirk Johan was a very evil and mean country boy. I popped ibuprofen all day long as I worked on the fence, and by midmorning I’d actually stretched out enough to function. Besides being bruised, it wasn’t that bad.

  After lunch, Edward and Dad came out the back door and hopped in the minivan, with Edward calling that they were going to some town or another to look at restaurant furniture. Dad said nothing, just got in and fired up the car, and they pulled away.

  Then Miss Mae came out. “Ben!”

  I turned, two nails in my mouth and the hammer in my hand. “Yesh?”

  “I need bacon. Three pounds’ll do.”

  I looked back at the fence. “I . . .”

  “We had a deal. You’d do errands for me.”

  I spit the nails into my hand. “I haven’t even gotten the truck going. That’s not fair.”

  “Deal is a deal, and I don’t remember you saying it started when you got the darn thing going. Get on to the butcher shop and put it on account. And get me one of those lemon pies I like. The little ones. I’ve got a craving.”

  I sighed. “Fine, I’ve got to get more nails, too.”

  “Go to the hardware store and tell Mrs. Gunderson to put that on account as well.”

  I set the hammer on the table, took off my work belt, and walked down the driveway as Miss Mae marched back into the house. Fifteen minutes later I was at the hardware store, weighing out two pounds of nails, when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Getting everything all right?”

  I turned, and Greg stood there. He wore an apron with “GUNDERSON’S HARDWARE, TACK AND FEED” emblazoned on it. “Hey. I didn’t know you worked here.”

  He shrugged. “Part-time, summers. My aunt and uncle own it.”

  “Cool.”

  “Puts gas in the Beast and gets me around, anyway.”

  “Your Bronco?”

  “Yeah. Mr. Hinks set up a deal for me last summer at an auction in Big Springs. Breaks down like clockwork. This week it was the alternator.”

  “That sucks.”

  He glanced at the nails. “Building something?”

  “Fence. I’ve become Miss Mae’s work slave since we got here.”

  He laughed. “I know the feeling. She hired me last year to rototill her garden. After the third time, she decided I’d done it right.”

  “Her bark is worse than her bite. She’s nice as long as you do things her way.” I held up the bag of nails. “I’d better get back. I’ve got to figure out how to get her truck running later, but I’ve got to get that fence finished.”

  “That Chevy in the back?”

  “Yeah.” I explained our deal.

  “Work on engines much?”

  “No. Figured I’d pop the hood and start wiggling things.”

  He hesitated. “I’m off at four. Need a hand?”

  I adjusted my hat, wondering if this would turn into some “get the new guy” trap. But I was absolutely brain-dead when it came to mechanics. “Sure.”

  “Cool. I’ll come over.”

  When I got back, I set the bacon and the lemon pie on the kitchen counter and lugged myself to the fence. My shoulder had tightened up while I was gone, and I worked the kinks out for another couple of hours, until four rolled around.

  I cleaned up, then went out back, taking five minutes to figure out how to pop the hood. I at least wanted to make it look like I knew something other than turning the ignition. The keys sat on the dash. I jammed one in the keyhole and turned it. Nothing. Not even a click.

  I got out of the cab and sat on a stump, smoking a cigarette. I’d decided to quit smoking because Kim didn’t like it, but it was turning out to be a hard thing to do. A few minutes later, Miss Mae banged out the back screen and hollered, “You got a visitor!”

  I stood, walking to the back door as Greg came out. I led him to the truck. “Thanks for coming,” I said.

  He carried a toolbox in one hand and a battery in the other. “No problem. I like working on ’em when I don’t have to buy the parts.”

  I pointed to the battery. “What’s that for?”

  “That truck has been sitting there for over two years. The battery is shot. Guaranteed.”

  “How much do I owe you for it?”

  “Nothing. I just got a new one for the Beast. This one’ll do you for a bit.”

  “Cool.”

  He opened his toolbox and took out a wrench, bending over the grille and taking the old battery out. I lifted the battery he’d brought and set it next to him. He put it in. “See, the red wire is always hot; black is the ground. Get ’em mixed up and you’ll blow the alternator.”

&n
bsp; Greg finished connecting the wires and told me to get in and crank it. I did, and the engine turned over, grinding several times before he signaled me to stop. I hopped out. He bent under the hood again. “Fuel filter is probably gunked up.”

  Fifteen minutes and some small talk later, Greg had a small cylindrical thing in his hands. It had two holes, one on either end. He put one end to his lips and blew. It barely gurgled. “Plugged. Not all the way, though.”

  “We need a new one?”

  “Naw. We can clean it.” He took a spray can out of his toolbox and sprayed into either end, then plugged the holes and shook. He set the filter down. “We’ll let it sit for a few, then wash it out with gas.” He looked around. “Got a can around here somewhere?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get it.” I went to the shed, grabbed the mower can, and brought it back. Greg sat on the stump and put a chew in his lip. “You like it here?”

  “Sure. It’s not that bad.”

  He looked at me. “Kim’s a nice girl.”

  “Yeah.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have a beef with that. Just wanted to be clear on it, is all. It was nothing serious between us, anyway.”

  I definitely didn’t want to talk about it. “Cool.” Just then, we heard somebody coming down the driveway, whistling. “Hey, Greg!” he called.

  Greg sighed, then stood up, calling to the whistler, “Yeah, Ron! Back here.”

  Ron appeared around the side of the shed a moment later. He looked at us, then smiled. “Looky here. We got some engine work going on?”

  Greg picked up the gas filter and shook it. “Yeah. Getting this thing running.” He sprayed more stuff in it.

  Ron nodded. “Hey, Ben. How’s it hangin’?”

  “Hey, Ron.” Greg flushed the filter with gas several times.

  “How’d you know I was here?” he asked.

  Ron smiled. “Eyes and ears everywhere, cousin. Your mom told me.”

  I watched as Greg blew through the cylinder again. This time it whistled. He spit gas residue from his lips. “Should be good, Ben.”

  I stepped forward. “Here, I can get it. I saw how you took it off.” He handed the filter to me, and I bent to it.

  Ron made a clicking noise with his cheek. “So’d the old lady give this clunker to you, Ben?”

  I struggled with the gas lines, soaking my hands and the ground. “No. I bought it. Or am buying it.”

  He laughed. “That’s one A-list bitch you got in there, that’s for sure. She wouldn’t give a knob job to a woodpecker on a cold winter’s day.”

  Greg interrupted. “Ron, come on. Knock it off.”

  “Dude, just saying. Calm down, man. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I talked from under the hood. “She can be that way.”

  Ron laughed. “For sure, man.”

  I laughed, and it wasn’t in a jovial way. “She doesn’t like you.”

  He smirked. “See, that’s the thing. What’s not to like about me? I’m the nicest guy around.”

  I thought about the cemetery. “Greg, these clamps just go on like this, right?”

  Greg looked under the hood. “Yeah. We’ll make sure they don’t leak when we get it fired up.”

  Ron was on a roll. “You guys look sort of cute together under there. Might make a good couple. You think, Greg?”

  Greg ignored him.

  I wiped my hands with a rag, then threw the gasoline-soaked thing at Ron. He caught it reflexively, and I smiled. “Thanks.”

  Then he dropped it, wiping his hands on the ground, his eyes flint. “Sure, man. Anytime. So, I heard you lopped off Weirdo’s antlers.”

  I shrugged. “That’s the thing with rumors. Never know what the truth is.”

  Ron hooted, slapping his leg. “For sure, Benald. Man, that kind of shit is right up my alley. Wish I thought of it first.”

  Greg checked the spark plug wires, asking Ron what he’d come by for. Ron made that sound with his cheek. It reminded me of what old men did when they winked at you. “Just thought I’d drop on by the house to see what you were up to, and your mom told me where you were. There’s a party at the Pond tonight.”

  Greg struggled with a wire. “Busy. Sorry.”

  Ron frowned. “Come on, Greg. You always used to want to do shit, and now you’re like some dork or something. Lighten up.”

  Greg straightened, wiping his hands on another rag. He looked at his cousin, and his expression wasn’t necessarily friendly. Then he shrugged. “I’m busy.”

  “No prob, man.” He turned to me, smiling. “Hey, Benald, you want to come? Have a few beers and meet some people?”

  I turned away, grabbing a wrench and checking the battery cables for no reason. I couldn’t tell if he was making a peace offering or setting me up. “I’ll think about it.”

  Ron made to go. “Cool. Lame-ass here can tell you where it is, if you’re so inclined to join us. Adios.”

  A few minutes after Ron left, Greg finished up checking what he called the “points” under the distributor cap. “Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”

  “What’s his deal?”

  “Ron?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s okay. He just gets a mouth on him sometimes.”

  “Obviously.”

  Greg shook his head. “He was pissed because of the Ronald comment you made when you first met. He hates being called that. That’s why he was a jerk at the diner.”

  “Guess he can dish it . . .”

  Greg laughed. “But can’t take it. That would be Ron. Once you get to know him, he’s decent.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Something bugged me about him, and it wasn’t just the cemetery. The way his eyes slid over things. Especially Kim. “Why aren’t you going to the party tonight?”

  Greg shrugged. “I don’t know. Same old same old. Drink too much, sick all the next day. It gets stupid after a while.”

  I nodded. I could understand that. “Should I hop in and try it?” I asked. Greg gave the affirmative on that, and I did so. I pumped the gas a few times and turned the key, listening to the engine struggle. Greg leaned over the grille and sprayed some stuff into the carburetor, and the engine fired up. I gave it gas and it bellowed smoke. I grinned. “Awesome!”

  He came around to the driver’s door, all business. “Let it run for a second. The carb needs to burn the gunk out. It’ll stop smoking in a few minutes.”

  I hopped out and helped Greg pack his tools. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  He picked up his toolbox. “Sure. Anytime.”

  I was excited. The truck rumbled behind me as Greg walked to the driveway. Then he turned. “Hey, Ben?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t go to that party tonight, huh?”

  I looked at him, trying to read what he was saying. “Sure. No problem.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The next day, I had a visitor.

  “She says I should say ‘sorry.’ ”

  I looked at Dirk, standing there with his hands in his pockets at our front door. I laughed. Kim stood at the curb, glaring at her brother’s back. “Dude, no problem. You got me.”

  “She’s been making my life pure hell for two days.”

  “I’ll bet.” I waved to her. She waved back, but the glare didn’t leave.

  “We do that to new guys. You know, initiation.”

  “Understood, Dirk. I still had a good time.”

  He looked at me. “You up for bird-hunting? No tricks. I promise.”

  “Did she make you invite me?”

  He smiled. “Hell, no. She can do just about anything but get in the way of bagging birds.” He shuffled. “I figured I owed you for the other day.”

  I thought about it. “Sure.”

  “I’ll drop by. Thursday morning. Five o’clock.”

  “Sounds cool. See ya.”

  When Dirk had gone, Kim came to the door. I kissed her. “Hey, lady. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I k
now. I wanted to.”

  “I got my truck running yesterday. Wanna go cruising tonight? We can make out under the stars.”

  She brightened. “No, but my dad wants you over.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Yes. For dinner.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Don’t tell me you had plans?”

  I smiled. “No. Sure, that sounds fine.”

  “Don’t worry. Dirk is staying out at Uncle Morgan’s now. I made him come to town to apologize.”

  “Wow, you do have some power.”

  She giggled. “Don’t cross me, Ben Campbell, or you’ll find out, too.” She kissed me. “Five-thirty. Don’t be late.” Then she was gone and I was watching her hips move down the walk. I’d kissed the lips connected to that butt. Awesome.

  I turned around and Dad was standing there. “Quite the social calendar you’ve got going.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Things getting serious with Kim?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re going hunting?”

  “Yes. Got a problem with that?”

  “You’ve never been hunting.”

  “When in Rome.” I looked at him, using his words: “People do things differently here, right?”

  He looked at me. “I don’t like this, Ben.”

  I turned and walked up the stairs. Hell, I didn’t know what he was talking about. Probably hunting and everything between him and me and how he felt about it, but I wasn’t interested. I’d found something I felt like I was finally fitting into, and he could accept it or not. Just like he’d told me: “Deal with it.”

  I knocked on Kim’s door at five-thirty sharp, after Miss Mae looked me over and made me go change my shirt. “I’ll have no slouch representing my family.”

  I changed, and she approved. “Better. Now mind your manners and have a good time.”

  Then I did something I never thought I’d do. I kissed her cheek. “I will.” Then I was gone. I didn’t walk, though. I drove. Four houses. Because I could. Mrs. Johan answered the door. I hadn’t talked to her but a few times out at the Morgan farm, and she seemed nice. Round-cheeked and plump, she had the same blue eyes as the rest of her family, and she wore dresses just like Miss Mae, but a little bit more modern. “Hello, Benjamin. Come in.”