Fastback Beach by Shirlee Matheson Read Free Book Online Page A

morning the hot rod was gone.
    â€œAnd you think Miles had something to do with it?” Mom asks softly, looking at Ned.
    â€œI don’t want to believe it, Mrs. Derkach,” Ned says. “It’s just that the people he’s friends with … I thought he might be involved or know something.”
    â€œI swear I don’t know anything aboutit.” I’m shaking all over, making what I just said sound pretty feeble.
    â€œHave you any ideas who we might contact?” the policeman says.
    Larry the Lark. He’s got to be involved. I know he’s jealous of the time I’ve spent working on the rod.
    â€œI don’t,” I say. “But I swear I’ll find that car.”
    â€œIf you’re involved you will have violated your probation. A
very
serious matter.” The officer lets that sink in. Then he adds, “We’ll be contacting your probation officer, Ms. Kirkpatrick, whose car was
also
stolen recently. Interesting coincidence.”
    â€œWhat’s going to happen?” Mom is near tears.
    â€œFirst we’ll take Miles to the station for a written statement. Then we’ll put an APB out for the missing vehicle. It shouldn’t be hard to spot!” the cop replies. And that’s it.
    We leave the house. Ned and I get in the backseat but don’t look at each other. I’ve never felt so terrible.
    At the station I compose the best essay I’ve ever written. I explain how we worked on the car, how important it was to both of us. I write down everything except my last conversation with Larry. I don’t mention any friends at all.
    But that doesn’t stop me from thinking about them. It doesn’t stop the pictures that form in my mind of the car being stripped and sold for parts. They’d get a lot of money for the racing gear, the Stewart-Warner gauges, Hurst shifter, Sun Super tach and the wheels and tires.
    Then I form a different mind picture: they’re all partying at the beach, taking turns at the wheel, throwing up rooster-tails of sand as they dump the clutch and race the engine until it screams. I see them jumping Fast-back’s dunes, cutting donuts on the beach, weaving in and out of sand and water.
    I sign my statement and hand it to the cop. He looks at it, shrugs and tosses it onto his desk. Just like a teacher, he can tell at a glance when a paper really says nothing.
    â€œWe’re not charging you, Miles, but you are a suspect. You understand?”
    I nod.
    â€œOkay, let’s go. We’re taking you home.”
    Again Ned and I get into the backseat of the cruiser. We say nothing until the car stops at Ned’s house.
    â€œMiles, your friends are not your friends if they did this,” Ned says to me.
    I look away out my side window. “I know.”
    He doesn’t need to say any more. Pictures of the low-slung coupe bouncing and scraping over grass-tufted dunes move through my mind like a horror video in slow motion.

Chapter Fifteen
    Mom and Jeff are at the door when the cops bring me home. I fight an urge to turn and run. I’ve got an idea.
    First I apologize to Mom for bringing on this trouble and then I try to convince her of my plan. “I want to go out to Fastback Beach,” I say. “I know I’ll find someone or something there. Can I please have the Honda? I’ll be careful.”
    It works.
    As Mom goes to find her keys I hear a car drive up. I look out. It’s a brand-new Caddy. Kenny jumps out. I hear her say, “Thanks, Mom,” and she comes running up the steps. I don’t need to fill her in. Mrs. Barnier already has.
    I tell her what I’m going to do. “I’m coming,” she says.
    On the way out, my foot wants to stomp the gas pedal but I don’t need any more attention from cops.
    It’s a cool day with a wind. As we come off the highway and over the crest of the hill we see a bonfire blazing on the beach. A group of people stand