Three Times Lucky by Sheila Turnage Read Free Book Online Page B

dash and roared back into the race, tires screaming.
    Sam stomped over and grabbed a soda from the cooler. “What’s wrong?” Dale asked. “Why’s Lavender mad?”
    “Oh,” Sam fumed. “It’s probably nothing. That rear left tire don’t look right and your brother’s so damn stubborn. …” He took a deep breath. “Don’t pay any attention to me, Dale. Lavender’s right. I worry more than your mama does.”
    The crash came three laps later. Lavender skidded sideways through the fourth turn, his back tires billowing smoke. The crowd rose like a thousand openmouthed puppets played by the same string, and I held my breath as Lavender hung sideways on the track—sliding, sliding, sliding—cars swerving miraculously by. Finally the number 45 car clipped his bumper, spinninghim headfirst into the concrete barrier by the stands.
    The night fell into slow motion as Lavender’s car somersaulted down the wall, bounced right side up, and wobbled to the infield. I found myself running toward him before I knew I was standing.
    Dale sprinted past and lunged through the driver’s window. He and Sam pulled Lavender free, but he lay still in their arms as the EMTs rushed toward them.
    A half hour later, Lavender sat in the rescue truck door, Doc Aikin turning his arm in the flat, yellow light. “It’s a wonder you walked away from that crash,” Doc said. “You could use some stitches in this arm. You got insurance?”
    Lavender winced. “Are you kidding? Just tape it up, Doc.”
    Doc nodded. “I’ll give you some antibiotics, then. As for your head …” he said, tilting Lavender’s head back and shining a pin-light in his eye. Again.
    “What’s wrong with his head?” Dale asked, his voice wavering. He had barely spoken since Lavender came to sputtering and kicking on Doc’s gurney.
    Doc’s a walrus of a man, tall as Lavender and twice as wide, but he gave Dale a kind smile. “He may have a concussion,” he said. “It’s too soon to tell.” He fished his card out of his wallet and stuck it in Lavender’s shirtpocket. “He needs to rest. But if he can’t stay awake or starts throwing up, you call me and I’ll meet you at the hospital. Pronto. Insurance or not. Understand?”
    Dale and I nodded like dashboard dogs.
    “Now, Lavender, where are you headed from here?”
    Lavender was watching Sam winch what was left of the race car onto the flatbed truck. “I thought I’d take my crew home and go by Sam’s …”
    Doc followed his gaze. “Nope. No alcohol, no women. Especially no twins.”
    Dale touched Lavender’s hand. “You could stay at the house,” he said. “Just for tonight. Mama would be glad of it, and Daddy … probably wouldn’t mind.”
    “Excellent,” Doc said. “Here’s my offer, then. Go to your mother’s with my appointed deputies here, or go to the hospital.”
    “Deputies?” I repeated, standing tall. “Are badges involved?”
    “It’s your choice, Lavender,” Doc said. “What’s it going to be?”
    Lavender frowned. “I guess one night at home won’t kill me,” he muttered.
    “Good. Of course you’re not driving with a head injury, so …”
    I felt it coming: a phone call to the Colonel, begging him to collect us up like a pack of slick-nosed kids. Ihad to act fast. “Actually, Doc,” I said, “those big-haired twins over there are pining to drive us home. Crissy can take us three in the GMC, and Missy’s wild to drive the flatbed if Sam’s too upset. Those twins are willing, plus they’re sober out of their minds from sipping Diet 7UP all night. Don’t take my word for it. Give them a blood test. I don’t mind.”
    It worked like a charm.
    “You sure you know how to drive this truck?” Lavender asked Crissy a few minutes later as she slid behind the wheel of the GMC. “Because she’s a classic, and—”
    “Ready!” I shouted, plopping down beside Dale and leaning against the cab. Crissy ground the gears, and we lunged into the night.
    Dale and