Road Trip Read online

  “Where’d you get the money?” The other day Mom said we couldn’t stretch the budget to afford the new laptop I want. Lately we’re eating more leftovers and she runs around turning off lights in empty rooms. She’s been trying to talk to Dad about the bills over dinner, but he puts her off. They don’t think I notice that he’s been sleeping in the guest room lately.

  Dad’s phone rings. He looks down and tilts it toward me so I can see Mom’s picture and phone number on his screen. The second he hits the answer button, I hear her: “… getting ahead of yourself … wish you had told me first …”

  Dad shrugs and starts to get out of the truck to take the call. Before he shuts the door, I hear him tell her, “We’ll work it out.”

  I wonder if Mom’s stomach is as jumpy and tight as mine.

  Okay, I never gave much thought to what Dad did for a living or whether it made him happy. Still, the fact that he quit his job and bought a crack house to fix up is a little terrifying. And kind of selfish.

  I watch him pacing in the Colonel Munchies parking lot, phone to his ear. He’s doing a whole lot of listening. When he catches my eye, he makes his right hand into a beak and taps his fingers and thumb together so I understand: Mom is talking his ear off. He gestures at me to take the phone. I shake my head; no way am I getting in the middle. Even though I’m curious to hear what she has to say.

  I grab a half-empty bag of red licorice from the dash, and Atticus and I share breakfast while we wait for our folks to figure this one out.

  I adjust the radio to a news station. We listen to international events: same old, same old—economic sanctions, military invasions, overthrown governments. “By comparison, our day is relatively peaceful. It’s all a matter of perspective,” I explain to Atticus. He yawns and looks unimpressed by my wisdom. “Yeah, you’re right,” I admit. “When you have to compare your day to wars and market collapses in order to find the upside, you aren’t in good shape.” We each chew another piece of licorice and watch Dad head back to the truck.

  He climbs into the cab, a big phony grin pasted on. “She thinks a road trip is a great idea.”

  Sure, she does: Mom likes her space when she’s mad, and I bet she’s mad enough to hope Dad stays on the road all summer.

  I’m a little surprised she didn’t insist he bring me back home. Even for Dad, this business idea and sudden trip is off the rails.

  “Uh, one more thing,” Dad says in the voice that makes my stomach do that alley-oop thing. I wish I hadn’t just snarfed all that licorice. I might spew it all over the inside of the windshield. Depending on what he says. “We’re going to have to live close to the bone for a while. Until the profits start flowing in.”

  “And …?” This affects me how? is what I’m thinking, but that’s too selfish to say.

  “We might have to cancel hockey camp next month.”

  He did not just say that.

  We’ve been talking about hockey camp since I was five years old and got my first pair of skates. I’m finally good enough to hold my own with the other players on the A squad, and I pulled straight As all year. That was the deal: when I turn fourteen, if I get the grades, then I can go to hockey camp for six weeks.

  “I know you’re bummed, and it kills me to even think I might have to let you down, but for the time being, even with your mom working and me putting everything I’ve got into the new business to make it a success, there’s a possibility I might not have the cash in time to send you.”

  “Mom would never let me down like this. What did she say about hockey camp?”

  “She agrees that we can’t afford it right now.”

  “So neither of you care that I killed myself to get those grades. For nothing.”

  No wonder Mom didn’t make me come back home. She didn’t want to face me after breaking her promise.

  “You have to look at the bright side: there’s still a chance everything will work out.”

  “How big a chance?”

  He ignores my question. “And it’s definite that you can go next summer. You’ll be able to go every summer once the business starts turning the kind of profit I know it will.”

  “Our deal was this summer.” Even I can hear how whiny I sound. Too bad; he deserves it.

  “You’ll work with me. It’ll be great. No one else you know is going into business renovating houses with their dad.”

  “I don’t build houses. I play hockey.”

  “That’s why we’re going on this trip—to spend some quality time together, talk about the business, and get you the dog.”

  “You think a dog is going to make up for missing hockey camp?”

  “A dog makes up for everything.”

  “Not even close.” I feel disloyal to Atticus saying that, but I’ve never felt so … resentful.

  Atticus, who’s sitting between Dad and me, is looking back and forth as we speak. He can tell something bad is happening—his ears are back and he’s panting a little.

  Dad’s still talking but I’ve stopped listening, I’m so mad. The ice is the only place I feel comfortable, and my teammates are the best friends I have. They’re all going to camp. The summer is going to be miserable and lonesome. Nothing to do, no one to hang out with.

  Dad’s voice changes and I start listening again. “I hate to say it, Ben, but I’m a little disappointed in your attitude.”

  “You’re disappointed?” That’s rich. My parents double-cross me and he criticizes me for being bitter.

  Before I can ask him how I’m supposed to tell my team that I’m not going to camp with them like I said, Mom calls. Again. This time he waits until he gets out of the truck and shuts the door before he answers.

  This trip stinks like rotten eggs and untreated sewage and little green olives with the red things stuffed inside. The last thing I want to do is be stuck in a pickup with my dad for two days. But watching him talk to Mom on the phone, I realize I’d be more miserable at home with her, because she’s mad at Dad and worried about money and would make me paint the garage.

  At least I’ll get my own border collie if I go with Dad. I’ve been wanting that—a dog that belongs just to me—for a long time. I have a list of possible names: Zamboni, Puck, Carom, Stanley …

  And nothing says I have to talk to him or listen to him tell me about the business. I’ll go, but I won’t like it. No reason to be on my best behavior if hockey camp is out of the picture. And no matter how many maybes or mights he throws in, my gut tells me I’m not going.

  I glance out the window and snap a picture of Dad talking on the phone—I might as well photograph all the elements of this trip—when I see the clerk from the store come out to grab a smoke. He looks kind of rough around the edges, like Theo.

  Theo.

  Perfect.

  ATTICUS

  I’m glad the boss and my boy were talking. But I don’t think my boy wants to talk to the boss anymore. Then it will be too quiet in the truck and the boss will play outlaw country music on the radio loud and my ears will hurt. It’s better when they talk.

  Talking is always a good thing.

  Even the new house is a good thing.

  I saw the house the boss bought. And I saw the way his eyes smiled and his shoulders lifted when he walked through it. I don’t know why he didn’t try harder to tell my boy that he bought the house three months ago. Or that he worked on it at night and on the weekends and it’s for sale and there’s an offer already. The boss can’t stand sitting around waiting to see if it works out, and that’s why we’re going on a trip.

  The boy didn’t notice that the boss was always gone and always tired.

  I noticed.

  The Criminal Element

  Theo’s a guy I know from school. He should have graduated this year, but he’s missing a few credits. Our guidance counselors hooked us up because I’m a volunteer tutor and Theo needed someone to help him stay focused. I don’t actually tutor him, since he’s a few years ahead of me. We just get together
to study. It must be working, because he’ll graduate next semester.

  When I first met him, he scared the crap out of me—he’s got a shaved head and an eyebrow piercing. I’d heard about him around school. They weren’t the kind of stories that scream future study buddy.

  Getting to know Theo is one of the coolest things that ever happened to me.

  I do all right for myself, friend-wise, but no one’s knocking people down to hang out with me. Or they weren’t until word got out that Theo and I were tight. My stock rose after his street cred rubbed off on me. That’s what I like to think. I noticed a lot more people sitting at my lunch table after everyone heard I was friends with Theo, and the guys on my hockey team keep asking if Theo’s going to come to a game. This is what friends of rock stars and professional athletes must feel like.

  Plus, Theo’s just cool. No one else I know can talk about the subtext and dramatic irony of the play he’s reading and the community standards for curfew violations and truancy. He’s been in some trouble, but he’s a good guy. Atticus loved him right off the bat.

  Dad got a bad first impression of Theo when he overheard me telling my friend Todd that Theo had told me one of his buddies had been picked up for vandalism. Dad thought I was talking about Theo. He calls Theo “the hoodlum.” I never bothered to correct him, because I liked the idea that Dad thought I was hanging out with a juvenile delinquent. Besides, Dad hasn’t been around much lately.

  Theo is exactly what this trip needs.

  I dial his number. Theo picks up on the fifth ring, drops the phone, swears a blue streak, and says, “Five-fifty-six. In. The. Morning. This better be good.”

  “Sorry about the time. It’s Ben. Got two words for you: Road. Trip.” As part of his “I’m really serious about graduating” plan, Theo has been doing nothing but studying for months, and he’s itching to taste freedom now that summer vacation has started. He lives with his older brother. I don’t know where his parents are, so it’s not like his folks are going to say no. Theo says his brother’s only rule is “Don’t smoke in the house.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “We’re on our way. Swing by your place in five.”

  “Good to go, dude.”

  I love Theo. I really do.

  Dad does not. Which is what makes Theo essential for the trip.

  The second Dad opens the truck door, I blurt out, “Theo’s coming with us.”

  Dad doesn’t say a word, just rests his forehead on the steering wheel. Welcome to my world, Dad. Now we’re both miserable.

  “How about a different friend? What about Todd? Let’s bring Todd. Todd doesn’t have a record and I’ve never seen his butt crack because his pants hang down too low, and Todd doesn’t scare old ladies and little girls at the mall. Let’s give Todd a call and drop the Theo idea. Whaddaya say?”

  “Nope. Theo.”

  “Is it even legal for him to leave town? Won’t his electronic ankle bracelet go off and alert the cops, put him in violation of some court-ordered restriction?”

  “You exaggerate. Theo might seem rough, but he doesn’t have an ankle bracelet and he’s expecting us. We should get going.” I point to the clock. “Weren’t you the one in the big hurry?”

  I can tell Dad wants to argue, but he’s dying to get on the road.

  “Fine.” He slams the truck into gear, zips onto the road, and floors it. “But I am not—repeat not—posting bail for that kid if he robs a convenience store or mugs a senior citizen along the way.”

  “Understood. I don’t think theft is his thing anyway.” Dad flinches. I smile. “Take a right here. Third apartment building on the left.”

  Theo’s standing on the street corner, smoking. He flips the butt away as Dad pulls up next to him, and climbs into the cab. Even though it’s a big interior and Theo’s in the backseat, his nicotine fug is gagging. Atticus wrinkles his nose and sneezes. Theo’s taking off his jacket. He’s wearing a sleeveless T-shirt. Excellent. No way Dad’ll miss the homemade tat on Theo’s arm. I turn to snap his picture and Theo flexes his bicep so that the tattoo really pops.

  “Ben.” Theo pounds my back as we pull away from the curb. “Ben’s dad—how’s it hangin’?” Awesome. Disrespectful to Dad and a bad influence on me in five words.

  “You can call me Mr. Duffy.” Dad’s gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. This might not be a totally horrible trip after all. I open a bag of barbecue chips and settle in.

  “Can I smoke?” Theo asks.

  “No,” Dad says. “Not in the truck, not on the trip, not in front of my son.”

  “Got it. You one of those health nuts?”

  “Just opposed to carcinogens.”

  “Sure.” Theo shrugs and I’m a little disappointed he doesn’t put up more of a struggle.

  I hand Theo the bag of chips to take his mind off the nicotine fit he might be having and he starts crunching away. I pass back a can of soda, hoping he’s the kind of guy who does big burps. That’ll slay Dad. But Theo isn’t a belcher.

  “So, Theo,” Dad says suddenly and in such a relaxed and friendly tone that I glance over in surprise. He winks at me, his Mr. Insurance Salesman, I’m-your-best-buddy wink. I bet he learned it at a convention. It means he’s trying to work the situation to his advantage. He’s probably hoping he can charm a confession out of Theo that will justify dumping him on the side of the road. I hope Theo hasn’t got that kind of confession in him. I’m not sure how much of a past he’s jammed into eighteen years. He doesn’t like to talk about himself. “Tell me about school. Ben says you’re really pulling your grades up.”

  That’s an exaggeration. Theo passed all his spring courses, but his GPA isn’t anything to get excited about. And I’ve never talked to Dad about Theo’s grades. I don’t have a good feeling about this. Theo is supposed to make Dad’s head explode trying to put up with him, not become his new best friend.

  “Well, I don’t know about that, but I stopped screwing around and got serious about school.” Theo is obviously trying to impress. Dad nods, obviously impressed.

  Man, nothing is going my way this morning.

  “Impressive,” Dad says. “What about after you graduate?”

  “I’m planning to go to a community college to take care of my prereqs and get some decent grades. Then I’ll be able to apply to the university.” Dad’s nodding like crazy, which is all the encouragement Theo needs to continue: “My guidance counselor said that with a GPA and a history like mine, that’s the best plan. If I had known I was going to have to bust my butt this hard, I’d have taken high school more seriously, not skipped so many classes and so much homework, not to mention all the other stuff I pulled.”

  I knew Theo probably wasn’t the kind of person who’d wind up in the middle of a street fight or the back of a cop car like Dad thinks. But I had no idea he could charm a parent this way.

  My phone buzzes. Mom. I let her go to voice mail and then text her the picture of Theo’s tattoo with the message “We’re bringing my friend Theo.” Mom’s not as freaked as Dad about Theo, but he’s not her favorite person.

  “Got a job lined up?” Dad and Theo are still mapping out Theo’s future.

  “Not yet, but I’ll have to find work because there aren’t any scholarships for a guy with grades like mine.”

  “I’m glad you came with,” Dad tells Theo, grinning at me with an evil look in his eye. “Ben wanted to ask Todd, but I encouraged him to invite you instead.”

  Atticus barks. Sounds like “Liar” to me.

  “So, what’s the story with this trip?” Theo asks.

  “Going to rescue a dog,” Dad answers.

  “Cool. I like dogs. Why take a road trip to get a dog, though? Can’t you pick one up around here?”

  “This one needs us.” Dad hands Theo his phone. “Read the email I got. Read it out loud. So Ben can hear it.”

  “ ‘This six-month-old border collie was found on the side of the freeway, skinny and dehy
drated, his paw pads scraped and raw from the asphalt. Due to overcrowding, it’s urgent we find a home for him as soon as possible.’ Wow. Rough start for the little guy.”

  “You can say that again,” Dad says. “I had border collies when I was growing up. One saved my life, pulled me out of the street, kept me from getting hit by a car when I was a kid. Promised myself I’d never be without a border collie.”

  “Oh, hey, a picture.” Theo holds it up for me to see.

  Border collies, I swear, can smile, and this one has a big dopey grin that breaks me right down the middle. Especially to think that such a sweet pup had been dumped and left to fend for himself.

  Theo’s still reading: “ ‘Approximately four million dogs and cats are put down each year because of overpopulation.’ Man, I had no idea.…”

  I swipe at my burning eyes and glare at Dad. “I’m making this trip for the dog; spending time with you isn’t going to fix anything between us.”

  “So noted.”

  “How long are we going to be gone and where are we headed?” Theo ignores the bad vibes between Dad and me. “I left a note for my brother that I was taking off with you guys; I should text him a few details.”

  “A couple days, there and back,” Dad answers.

  “Don’t let him fool you. We’ll be lucky to roll back into town by Labor Day,” I snort.

  “Ben thinks I’m too impulsive to be trusted on a road trip,” Dad says.

  “Well,” I say, “maybe it wouldn’t have been a bad thing if you’d prepared a little before taking off.”

  “How?”

  “Get the truck serviced?”

  “The truck runs fine. It’s just a simple trip. It’s almost boring.”

  I feel a shiver run down my back. Dad is lots of things, but he’s never boring. I hope I’m wrong to be worried. There’s nothing I can do about it anyway except buckle my seat belt and hope for the best. I sit back and throw an arm around Atticus. He looks out the window like he’s the one driving.

  “Yup.” Dad takes a swig of water from the bottle in the cup holder. “Nothing but smooth sailing from here on in.”