Chapter 18 Boys, Booze, and Car Accidents #2
My jaw dropped. “How in the hell did those get there?”
“I borrowed your car this morning before you got back from Sarah’s.”
“That’s the most fireworks I’ve ever seen outside of one of those roadside tents.” Grant pointed at the ski lodge. “We’re not shooting them off there, are we?”
“Do I look like an arsonist?” Realizing we weren’t going to answer him, he kept going. “We’re going to the train bridge!”
“No shit.” Tom sounded impressed. Back when we were always getting into trouble, Tom was the mastermind. “That’s why we’re parked over here? In case we have to run?”
“When we have to run.” Jamie grinned and started grabbing bags of premium fireworks.
“How’d you afford these?” I asked when he handed me a box full of what we called the “rich people” bundles.
“Huh?” Jamie kept digging in the trunk and putting bag after bag on us like pack mules.
“I said, how did you afford these? I know what you make working on Uncle Rick’s crew.”
His lips twisted back and forth, but he finally spilled. “I got them from Sarah.”
At the mention of her name, my heart stuttered. “Go on.”
“She wanted to make sure you had fun on your one night off, even if she couldn’t be here.”
Grant peeked in the bag he was holding. “Damn. Is Sarah rich?”
“No. Her parents are.” Jamie slammed the trunk closed, drawing my attention.
“She’s cut off. Where did she get the money for this?”
Jamie stared at me, struggling with whom he was more loyal to. “I can assure you she didn’t spend a dime. Why don’t you ask her about it next time you see her?” Pleased with how he handled me, his smile was back as he led us to the train bridge, a NEMO institution.
Every new freshman was brought there and told to stand facing the train as it whooshed underneath their feet. Being a Kirksville native, it didn’t hold the same charm for me, but it was the site of many an adolescent mishap.
Case in point. I’d asked Laura to be my girlfriend at the train bridge sophomore year of high school.
As we walked onto the vacant bridge, a shrill whistle filled the air as a train rushed by, blowing hot air in our faces. We got to work grouping the fireworks, laughing, and taking pulls of the cool but not cold liquor Jamie had in the trunk.
“You think I could get a job at the Wel?” Grant asked me, his back to where Tom and Jamie threatened each other with bottle rockets.
“Probably. We’re always short-staffed.”
“Cool. I really need to get out of my dad’s before I kill him.”
“Still an asshole?”
He nodded. “Still an asshole.”
“I’ll give John your number. I can talk to Uncle Rick, too, if you want.”
We tapped our cans together. “Thanks. And sorry for giving you trouble about Sarah. I’m happy for you. It’s awesome you’re finally giving someone a chance.”
Ah, he was drunk. Grant got downright sappy with the right amount of alcohol.
“I appreciate it. What about you?”
He chuckled and chugged the rest of his beer, crushing the can when he was done. “What about me?”
“Did you meet anyone while you were in Germany?”
“There was one guy, but he got deployed and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“That sucks.”
He shook his head. “Nah. It wasn’t anything serious, just something to pass the time. After Anna, I’m not interested in anything that even looks like commitment. I’m only twenty-three, ya know?”
Anna was the girl he dated our senior year, and when they had a pregnancy scare, his response was to enlist. She wasn’t pregnant, but at that point, it didn’t matter. He said he had always planned to join, but the timing was pretty shitty.
“For sure.” I grabbed two more beers for us and leaned against the rail. “Believe me, I didn’t expect to meet someone so soon, but man.” I took a big gulp, trying to find the right words. “There’s something about her that—”
“Reminds you of your mom?” He burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join him. As gross as it was to admit, now that he said it, I saw the similarities.
“Shut up.”
“What? Your mom’s hot.”
“Don’t talk about our mom, Grant!” Jamie hollered from the other side of the bridge, and Tom started laughing as he walked over to us.
“Grant’s right.”
“It’s time to give up the dream, guys. Mom’s dating some doctor from the hospital.”
“No shit. You met him yet?”
I flicked the tab on the can. “Not yet. She wants to be sure before she introduces us. You know we’ve only ever met one of her boyfriends.”
“And we promptly got rid of that fucker.” Jamie said proudly as he knelt to straighten the firework wicks.
“You got rid of him. I didn’t think he was so bad.”
Jamie blinked up from his work. “He didn’t shower and lived at that hippie commune.”
“Yeah, he was smelly, but nice.”
Shaking his head, he dismissed me and stood with finality. “They’re ready!”
Grant, Tom, and I passed a bottle of Old Crow, ready for the show.
Jamie walked over to us in a straight line, grinning. “If I did this right…” He set the fuse on the ground and lit it. The fire ate it up until it reached the point where the wicks were connected, then splintered in a dozen different directions. When the first pop sounded, we all cheered.
The dark summer sky lit up in blues, reds, and whites.
Star bursts, sparkling shapes, and shimmering rainfalls of light crackled above us—our very own Fourth of July light show two weeks early.
The smell of burning was more comforting than burning sulfur should ever be.
My eyes watered from the smoke, but I didn’t dare blink.
It was like being a kid again, not wanting to miss a moment.
Jamie came and stood next to me, throwing an arm around my shoulder.
I kept my attention on the sky. “This is fucking awesome.”
“Yeah.”
The four of us stood spellbound and pretty tipsy as the colors lit our faces in bright bursts of color.
Every explosion was more amazing than the last until the sky went dark, leaving behind curls of white smoke.
As if on cue, a train rumbled up behind us, its whistle blowing before swirling the smoke and firework debris around us as it sped by.
I looked at the guys, all of us smiling with wide, excited eyes.
Jamie picked up the cooler and said, “We should—” but gravel crunching and a siren accompanied by red and blue lights cut him off. “Run!”
Off we went, down the road where we’d parked, conveniently in the opposite direction from the cop car. He’d have to drive down a bit to turn around to catch up with us.
Tom’s drunk ass tripped on something and fell. “Go on without me!” he panted, lying flat out on his stomach. Leave it to Tom to prefer an arrest to just getting the fuck up.
Grant, without missing a beat, doubled back and scooped him up, running with him safely in his arms.
Huffing and puffing, we managed to reach the unlocked car. Grant dropped Tom to the ground, Jamie handed Tom the cooler, and we all piled inside. Jamie gunned it, gravel spraying behind us, and we all cheered, slapping the inside of the car and whooping it up.
As we caught our breath, Jamie said, “We need some getaway music.” Without Bluetooth or any other modern musical choices, we were stuck with whatever radio stations you could get out there.
He flipped past a couple of country songs and a station playing classical music.
He stopped searching when we heard the chorus of “Come on Eileen”, and the guys in the back immediately sang along with Jamie as I stared out the window.
There was only one person this song made me think of, and she was responsible for one of the best nights of my life a few times over.
High beams came over the hill behind us. When they didn’t switch them off, Jamie cursed.
“What’s this guy’s problem?” Tom asked, looking out the back window.
The truck sped up, leaving just feet between its front bumper and the Lincoln. Jamie glanced in the rearview mirror as he hit the gas. “Asshole.”
As the words left his mouth, they tapped our bumper.
“What the fuck!” I yelled, gripping the oh-shit handle.
Another bump, and we all stared out the rear window.
“Do you recognize the truck?” Grant shouted, shielding his eyes to see farther.
Tom shook his head violently. “I can’t even see what kind of truck it is.”
The engine behind us rumbled loudly.
“Sixty-three is just over this hill. Maybe we can shake him.”
“Con, I’m going as fast as I—”
The psycho behind us kissed our bumper, sending us into a fishtail. Jamie expertly corrected, changing lanes into oncoming traffic. The giant truck followed.
Ahead were a pair of dim headlights, and I nearly threw up all the trunk liquor I’d downed.
“Jamie, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to make a right up here.”
“What about them?” I jerked my hand toward the car coming right for us.
“I’m turning before they even reach us.”
A car horn blared, cutting through the upbeat pop song as we sped toward a head-on collision.
“Hold on to your asses!” Jamie yelled, then made a dangerous left-hand turn onto a private drive.
Blood whooshed in my ears, drowning out the panicked shouts of my friends. “You said right!”
“Is now really the time?” he screamed.
“Uh, guys. He’s still behind us,” Grant said, now turned fully in his seat.
Tom looked out his window and pointed to a far-off barn. “Go that way. Mr. McClusky always leaves his gate unlocked.”
Jamie gunned it, and we bounced along. My teeth rattled as he hit every hole on the dirt road. I swallowed back bile as I silently prayed for the lunatic behind us to leave us alone.
We rounded a sharp turn, and the truck rammed into the right side of the Lincoln’s rear bumper. In the time it took me to take a breath, we were flying over a ditch and crashing into the trunk of an enormous tree.
The cooler flew into the front seat, slamming into the back of Jamie’s head. Airbags exploded from the dashboard, hitting me in the face. My seatbelt cut into my chest, and pain exploded through my body.
Smoke billowed from under the crushed hood.
“Are you guys okay?”
Jamie lifted his head from the airbag. “I think so.”
“Tom?” Grant said, his voice sounding worried.
There was a guttural noise from the backseat, but I couldn’t turn to see.
“What the fuck was that?” Tom groaned.
“They’re gone,” Grant said. There was the click of a seatbelt, and he said, “Let’s get out of the car and call 9-1-1.