No Right Turn by Terry Trueman Read Free Book Online Page A

the Honda, the rush of beating them and of them appreciating and respecting the ’Vette. “I know what you mean.”
    â€œOh yeah?” Don asks, looking at me kind of funny.
    I stutter, “I mean, I get what you’re saying.”
    Don nods.

TEN
    â€œHi, is Becka there, please?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Becka’s been called away on a matter of national security. She’s been arrested and—”
    I hear a loud grunt and a muffled, brief struggle.
    â€œHello!”
    I recognize her voice right away, having played it over in my head maybe ten billion times since we met.
    â€œHi, Becka, it’s Jordan, the Corvette guy—”
    Her laughter interrupts me. “I know who you are. How you doin’ ?”
    I ask, “National security?”
    She asks, “Do you have any little brothers or sisters?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou’re so lucky, you have no idea—they’re so cute when your mom first brings them home, but then they start walking and talking and learning to answer the phone.”
    I laugh.
    Becka, in a voice so sweet that I feel almost dizzy, says, “But enough about my tragic plight. How are you and how’s the ’Vette?”
    I’m ready for this. “I’m good, great really, but the ’Vette’s in the shop.”
    â€œBummer,” Becka says. “When do you get it back?”
    â€œUhhh … I’m not sure really.... Maybe a week.”
    â€œGeez,” Becka says. “What’s wrong with it?”
    I have an entire explanation that involves motor mounts and valve covers and the alternator—suddenly it all sounds like way too much, so I just say, again, “I’m not really sure.”
    Becka laughs. “Does it appear to be a gas or an electrical problem?”
    At first I think she’s serious, but now I remember that I asked her the same thing that first night we met.
    I laugh. “You think maybe I might be out of gas?”
    â€œI don’t know—stranger things have happened.”
    I love this, I love her voice, her sense of humor; Becka Thorson is kidding around with me ! It seems impossible.
    Finally I suck it up and spit out the reason for my call. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out.”
    â€œStop it!” Becka snaps.
    I stutter, “Ex-excuse me?”
    Becka quickly says, “Not you,” then pulls her mouth away from the phone and yells, “Billy, you’re such a dead man!”
    I hear a boy’s laughter in the background.
    Becka says to me, quickly, “Call me later in the week; I’ll be able to talk better after I’ve finished hiding my brother’s body. I can drive if your ’Vette isn’t ready—you drive the next time. By the way, did you know that nobody at school even knows you have a Corvette?”
    Surprised, I ask, “What?”
    â€œYeah,” she says, obviously a little distracted, probably planning her brother’s murder. “Don’t you ever drive it to school?”
    I stammer, managing to mumble, “I … uh … no, it’s not insured for daily driving.”
    I’m not sure if this even makes any sense, so I change the subject. “How do you know about me at school?”
    She laughs. “I have my sources, although I have to admit you’re a bit of a mystery—most kids don’t know you.”
    I ask, “Is that right?” Then, quickly, “You still want to go out, though?”
    Her final words as she hangs up are “Call me tomorrow.”
    I can’t believe my luck.
    I phone Wally, because I’ve promised him I’ll keep him up to speed on the Becka situation.
    I say, “She told me to call her back.”
    Wally says, “Good, that’s a good sign.”
    I laugh. Trying to be funny, I say, “You really think so?”
    Wally, sounding totally serious, says, “Well, it means she probably doesn’t