Driver's Ed by Caroline B. Cooney Read Free Book Online Page B

shadows.
    Anyway, I’m not really doing this. They’re really doing this. I’m just here. It isn’t as if we’re taking money. Or hurting anybody.
    A car was coming. Its engine splattered the silent night.
    Fear filled her mouth like a spoonful of peanut butter, sealing her shut, preventing speech and breathing.
    â€œDon’t worry about the car,” said Nicholas. “You can do anything you want. Nobody ever stops.”
    â€œWhat if it’s cops?” whispered Morgan.
    Nicholas mocked him. “It won’t be cops, little boy. Who would patrol here? Just keep on working.”
    Headlights exposed them against the black pavement. Remy felt as if she were on an operating table, naked, her heart lying open.
    It’s just a road sign, she said to herself. It’s hardly even wrong.
    The car did not slow down, but shot past as if it had no driver, was a robotized vehicle on its way to another world.
    The sign came down easily. The bolt had not been hammered up after all, and the wrench did the job. Remy was amazed at how large the sign was. It didn’t look like much when you drove by. Nickie carried the tools while Morgan took the sign. Nickie popped the Buick’s trunk. When Morgan dropped THICKLY SETTLED down, Christmas-tree needles from last year jumped up off the carpet pile.
    Nickie got back in the driver’s seat. Morgan opened the door for Remy and she almost got in, but sitting in the middle meant touching Nickie. She nodded for Morgan to go in first.
    Nickie saw. He drove off with a screaming spurt, undoubtedly leaving tire marks.
    Remy told herself that nobody was going to photograph the tread stains. Nobody would investigate who had taken THICKLY SETTLED . They would just put up a new THICKLY SETTLED .
    She tried not to think about what could have gone wrong, reminding herself that nothing had.
    T he Buick surged onto the highway, seventy miles an hour by the time it got to the top of the entrance ramp. Morgan sucked in his breath. Nickie was a very aggressive driver. He expected the world to move over for him, and so far it had. It did again. Morgan let the air back out of his lungs.
    â€œSo, Miss Marland,” said Nickie tauntingly. The edge of his voice was like a paper cut. “What’s your pleasure?”
    A sentence Morgan’s father used at political gatherings when he wanted action. Morgan had a brief picture of Dad’s reaction if he could see his son now.
    Remy’s grip on Morgan tightened. Morgan felt the fine, thin bones of her fingers. She was afraid of Nickie.
Don’t worry, Remy, I’m between you and Nickie. I’ll take care of you. I know what a gutter rat he is. We’ll never waste our time with him again
.
    He could never say these things to Remy anymore than he could ever talk to his father. But he could act on them.
    â€œActually,” Remy said, “there is a Morgan Road.” He knew her eyes were blue, but in the dark there was no color. Just intensity. “We could get the street sign of Morgan Road,” she whispered.
    Morgan’s heart left earth so fast, he jet-lagged. She wanted a Morgan Road sign? How much could he read into that? His lips and cheek did brush her hair. Soft as a down quilt, as if he could bury himself there. Morgan’s fantasies smothered him.
    â€œWhere’s Morgan Road?” said Nickie. “We canprobably just unscrew it. That’s the way street-name signs are. It’ll be up high to stop us, but we can stand on the roof of this baby. This is a strong car. Use it like truck.”
    Neither passenger heard a word.
    R emy loved taking MORGAN ROAD .
    Fearful as she was of cop cars, neighbors, or wandering German shepherds, she wanted the expression in Morgan’s eyes to continue.
    All her reading and all her observations had convinced Remy that you could never tell. You could not look at a boy and see if he cared about you.
    Wrong.
    One look at Morgan Campbell