Part 14 (1/2)

Once again, Iggy's pale hand hovered over the keyboard. He concentrated and punched in five numbers.

Nothing. My heart sank down into my stomach.

Then the machine started whirring, and soon a stack of twenties shot out.

”Yes!” said Fang, punching the air. ”Freaks rule.”

”Grab it and go!” I said as Nudge began pulling out bills and stuffing them into her pockets. We were turning to run when the machine beeped again.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR BUSINESS. PLEASE TAKE YOUR CARD.

”Okay, thank you, you,” I said, grabbing the card. Then we ran back to the woods. Well, we ran and and flew. flew.

54.

For some reason, I didn't feel too bad about taking that guy's money. Maybe because he seemed like such a jerk. We were like his karma getting back at him.

I don't know. I do know that I wouldn't have stolen even a jar of peanut b.u.t.ter from Ella and her mom. Never. Nothing. Never. Nothing.

”Too bad we couldn't get more,” Fang said, counting the money.

”Let's go back to the gas station and buy a bunch of food,” Nudge urged.

I shook my head. ”People there may have already seen us. We've got to get out of here.”

While we'd hidden in the woods, a red van had pulled up behind one of the stores. A young guy had unloaded some stuff from the back of it, then headed inside. Before the door swung shut, we saw him punch a time card.

So he was at work for at least a couple hours, till his first break.

And there was his van, just sitting there.

Fang and I looked at each other.

”Money from a jerk is one thing,” I said. ”A car from just a guy is something else.”

”We'd only need to borrow it for a few hours,” Fang said. ”We could leave him some money as a rental fee.”

”Are we stealing that car?” the Gasman asked. ”Let's.”

I frowned. ”No. We're sort of thinking thinking about about borrowing borrowing it.” On the one hand, I really didn't want to become a teenage criminal. On the other hand, every minute that ticked by was another minute closer to Angel's being the number one dissection lesson for a bunch of rabid geneticists. it.” On the one hand, I really didn't want to become a teenage criminal. On the other hand, every minute that ticked by was another minute closer to Angel's being the number one dissection lesson for a bunch of rabid geneticists.

”That's like Grand Theft Auto,” the Gasman said helpfully. ”I saw it on TV. It's popular with kids.”

”Better 'borrow' it soon,” advised Iggy. ”I hear a chopper.”

I made an executive decision. And yeah, I know-my karma's going to come back and get karma's going to come back and get me, me, too. too.

In movies, people always ”borrow” cars by yanking some wires out from under the dash and connecting them. But the real way it works involves a screwdriver and the starter thingy, under the hood. My personal ethics prevent me from giving you more information. That'd be just what I need: a rash of car thefts across America, committed by dedicated readers.

I don't think so.

Anyway, I did the engine thing while Iggy sat in the driver's seat, pressing the gas. The motor grumbled into life, I slammed the hood, and we jumped into the van. My heart was pounding at about two hundred beats a minute.

Then I just stared at the controls.

”Oh, my G.o.d,” said Fang. ”None of us has ever driven.”

It wasn't like him to have missed this important detail.

”I've seen people drive on TV,” I said, trying to sound confident. ”How hard could it be?” I knew about the whole neutral, park, drive thing, so I put it into D. D.

”Okay, guys,” I said. ”Here goes nothing.”

55.

You might not know this, but cars have a separate parking brake, not just the foot pedal one. That brake is often not immediately obvious to the naked eye.

Attempting to drive a car before you find and release the parking brake is like trying to drag a Saint Bernard into a bathtub. But enough on that.

”Okay, okay, we're doing okay,” I said twenty minutes later, after I finally found and released the parking brake. I felt like I was at the helm of a huge, clumsy runaway elephant.

I was sweating and about to jump out of my skin with anxiety about driving, but I tried to look way confident and calm. ”I mean, it's not as good as flying, but it beats the heck out of walking!”

I smiled bravely over at Fang to see him giving me a steady look. ”What?”

”Could you take it easy on the hairpin turns?” he said.

”I'm getting better,” I said. ”I just had to practice.”

”I didn't know a van could go up on two wheels like that,” Nudge said. ”For so long. long.”

”I don't want to barf in a borrowed car,” the Gasman said.

I pressed my lips together and focused on the road. Ingrates. ”We need to turn east in about five hundred yards,” I muttered, peering out the van window.

A half mile later, I pulled over and rested my head against the steering wheel. ”Where the heck is the road? road?” I bellowed in frustration. ”There's no freaking road road there!” there!”

”You're going by your own directional senses,” Fang pointed out.