Twenty Grand by Rebecca Curtis Read Free Book Online

didn’t say anything, but I felt safe because I thought the doors were locked. My sister had a determined look on her face. I thought she was determined we would get away. As soon as she stopped at the light, both homeless men walked toward the car. I felt scared, but I thought what would happen was that they’d try to open the door and be humiliated, because the doors would be locked. The door next to me opened. I wanted to close it but if I did it would shut on the man’s groin and I knew that would make him mad. He got in the car. The other one got in the front.
    These are the kind of locks where you have to push them down really far, my sister said, pushing one down really far to illustrate. We were still at the red light.
    Thanks for not slamming the door on me, the homeless man next to me said. That would have hurt.
    No problem, I said.
    You know those handicapped buses? he said.
    I nodded.
    Well, he said, now they have doors that open up really suddenly, so all the handicapped people trying to get inside get knocked on their asses.
    I nodded. He wasn’t handicapped but I guessed he was probably friends with a lot of handicapped people, because he was homeless.
    The light turned green and my sister took off. She was going really fast now, and finally we were beginning to drive through the town. We were flying along the dark two-lane road that passes the town hall, the old fire station, and the abandoned ski area, and the leaves of all the old trees were hanging above and blocking the sun overhead, a pale sun going down. The homeless man up front was having a conversation with my sister about something that had happened to him when he was homeless. The one who’d been next to me was moving around the car.
    Look, I said to my sister, even though she was clearly having a conversation with someone else, we’ve got to get rid of them.
    How? she said.
    Both men looked at me. The tall one, who was telling my sister a story, had stiff red hair all around his face and a long wrinkled white nose. He was thin and wearing jeans and a red plaid shirt. The one who’d been next to me had a squat yellow face, yellow hair, and tiny lips the size of baby lips.
    I crawled to the front of the car. Look, I said, to the one with the red hair, we have things to do.
    We do? he said.
    No, I said. My sister and I have things to do.
    Oh, he said.
    So we’re dropping you off, I said.
    Okay, he said. He rubbed his long white nose. Then he pulled his red beard.
    My sister looked back at me. She said, Is it okay if we drop them off near the home?
    No, I said. No way. We’re not going near the home. We’re dropping them off downtown.
    So she turned around and drove back downtown, slowed by the village store, and pulled over in front of it. They got out. They didn’t look at me. They just stood as if waiting, facing the road, with their hands in their pockets.
    Drive, I said to my sister, and she drove. We’re getting out, I said. We can’t stop for any more lights.
    All right, she said.
    We need to go fast, I said.
    All right, she said.
    I was worried. Already time had passed, and at any minute I expected to see squad cars blocking the road and signs telling us to stop, or telling people to stop us; and it might have been, although I hoped it wasn’t, already too late to get onto the interstate.
    Don’t worry, my sister said, and she began to drive fast and circle through the town.
    I want to get out of town, I said.
    All right, she said.
    But up ahead was the light, the same one as before, and the homeless men were waiting by it.
    Don’t stop, I said.
    All right, she said. But I do have to slow down.
    I locked the door. The lock was the kind where you push one and they all go down, and this time I pushed the lock all the way down. But when the car slowed down at the light, just at the moment when I expected the homeless men to be humiliated, they opened the doors and got in.
    The locks