Chasing AllieCat (18 page)

“Me too,” Stevie said.

“Me, too,” Megan chimed in.

“Holy crap, what did I start?” Joe muttered.

“Nope.” Janie held out a Tupperware bowl of cookies. “We already ate. You guys stay with us. Let Joe and Sadie go if they want.” Janie actually winked at me. I wondered what got into her to be nice to me, but I wasn’t going to ask.

I caught Susan’s eye and pointed toward the food stands, and she nodded back.

“We’ll be back,” I told Timmy. He didn’t protest. His mouth was jammed full of chocolate chip cookie.

Joe and I walked around the perimeter of the crowd. Stands selling cotton candy, footlongs, kettle corn, elephant ears, tacos, homemade taffy. Anything we wanted, as long as it had at least thirty grams of fat per serving. We each bought a Polish sausage and a Coke. We sat and ate at some benches, out of sight of the family and all the little kids who would want what we had if they saw us.

A guy with brown spikey hair who looked vaguely familiar came hurrying over, dragging his girlfriend by the hand. The girlfriend wore lots of eye make-up, a white halter top with her tummy sticking out over her shorts, skinny legs below with no muscle tone, and a look of absolute boredom on her face.

“Sadie. Nice job today,” the guy said.

I swallowed a big bite of sausage and bun. “Thanks.”

“I’m Rob. I was in your race. You passed me on the switchback. Remember?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have recognized you,” I said. “But thanks.”

“Hey, what was the deal with that Allie girl’s dad?” Rob asked. The girlfriend rolled her eyes.

“No idea. Really.” I stood up. “Hey, Joe, come on. The orchestra’s starting Mozart. Last song before the 1812 Overture. We gotta go so we don’t miss the cannon. Excuse us. See you, Rob.”

“Nice brush-off,” Joe said.

“Allie’s dad is the
last
thing I want to talk about.”

We skirted around the outside edge of the crowd on our way back to the family. Near the gravel mountains, behind all the lawn chairs and blankets, a hayrack was hooked to a pickup. A canopy covered the rack, with about a dozen people and several coolers among the hay bales. All the guys leaning on the rack were shirtless. They nodded and grinned at us. One of the guys whistled, and Joe put his arm around my shoulder as we passed.

We turned the corner and grinned at each other. “Everybody thinks you’re hot. See?” Joe said into my ear. “This is fun.” We weren’t watching where we were walking and almost ran smack into two guys without shirts.

“Watch it,” the one wearing a Schlitz cap said.

“Sorry,” Joe said.

“Well, well. It’s the little nosey bitch who won’t get off the road,” the other one said. He was wearing a Vikings hat. It was the reptilian ponytail guy.

The rednecks.

I stopped dead, frozen. The last people I expected at a concert. And now, now I knew what I hadn’t thought about since the race—hadn’t fully realized until this moment, when everything about these guys came rushing back. These two asshole rednecks had been riding ATVs with Cecil Baker. They were
friends
with Allie’s dad.

“Watch where you’re walkin’. And you”—the Schlitz cap redneck poked a finger at me—“you and Miss High-and-Mighty Strong Arm Miss Allison Baker—keep your noses out of where they don’t belong.”

“If you know what’s good for you,” the reptilian guy threw in. The driver elbowed him hard in the ribs, and he collapsed inward at the blow. “Jeez, ya don’t have to get violent. I’m just sayin’—”

I felt myself shrinking back, instinctively clinging tighter to Joe’s hand.

The driver went on, “Mr. Cecil Baker has a message for his daughter, if you would deliver it, please. He’d like his daughter to come home.” Here his tone changed to sickly sweet. “He misses his baby.” His sick smile evaporated. “Now you tell her that. Ya hear?”

“And,” the reptilian guy straightened up again to say, “you tell her Cecil Baker is
not
going back to the slammer. Period. No matter what anybody says to frame him—”

“Will you
shut up
!” The driver elbowed him again.

“Back off.” The voice was so authoritative, it made me jump. “Leave her alone.” I looked up. Joe. Joe, my new boyfriend, released my hand, pulled himself to his full height, and was chest-to chest with the ponytail guy. “
You
leave my girlfriend alone, or you’ll really, really wish you had.”

My mouth fell open. Joe, who was a self-proclaimed wuss, Joe, who apologized for not being fearless, Joe, who had just asked my little brother if I could be his girlfriend, Joe, my new boyfriend, stuck his finger in the driver’s face. “You touch her again, or threaten her on her bike, you’ll be dead. You understand? Now
back off
!”

If the rednecks’ eyes had flashed fear when confronted with Scout and Thomas, now their eyes flashed surprise and shock. The element of ambush took them off guard so completely that they only stammered as Joe grabbed my hand and we walked right past the two jerks.

“
Back off. You’ll really wish you had,”
the rednecks called after us, trying to mock Joe, but the words bounced off our backs as we strode away.

We headed into the crowd until we’d gotten a safe distance away.

“Joe.” I yanked on his hand. “I can’t believe you. I mean, I can hardly believe you said that to those assholes. How—why—how could you do that? Talk about guts.”

“I don’t know,” Joe said. “I’m shaking now.”

“You were awesome.” I squeezed his hand. “And now we know they’re Allie’s dad’s friends.”

“And now we know for sure that Allie’s not at her house, wherever that is.”

“What do you think they were talking about? Frame Cecil Baker? He’s already been in and out of prison,” I said. “Those guys are so nuts, they don’t even make any sense.”

Joe said, “Do you think she recognized them? Back when they ran you guys off the road?”

“No. I’m sure she didn’t. She would have said something, don’t you think? I mean, the way she came storming into the Last Chance.”

Joe started to chuckle. “That was my introduction to Allie.” He smiled down at me. “And to you, for that matter, besides at the truck stop.”

At that moment, the cellos started the sad, somber notes of the
1812 Overture
. The big-boy uncles would shoot their cannon soon.

“We better hurry,” I said.

“Or,” Joe said, “we could stand right here and listen and watch.”

We looked over at the aunts and little kids. They were absorbed in the music and watching the cannons. They weren’t looking our direction.

The uncles were very busy with their toys.

“Okay,” I said. “We can see everything from here.”

Uncle Thomas was checking something on the cannon. Then the Union soldier guys, in their blue coats, stood at attention, trying not to wiggle like little boys.

The music sounded like a hymn, and then it grew into this horrible, wonderful, awful collision of notes that really sounded like a battle. This song was written by Tchaikovsky, the same guy who wrote
The Nutcracker.
I knew
The Nutcracker
because I was in ballet for six years, until I got the guts to tell my mom I’d rather ride my bike after school than take dance lessons.

I loved this music, but I didn’t very often admit that to anybody. I slid my hand up under Joe’s arm and stood on tiptoes to say in his ear, “I love this song.”

Joe squeezed my hand against his ribs. “I’ll pay attention then.”

At the height of the music that painted a battle scene, Scout brought a match (no cigar this time) to the powder hole, and though I didn’t want to move my hand away from Joe, I did. I watched Timmy and the other little cousins sit up straight. We covered our ears, as did lots of people around us, and we watched the flare and the shudder, and flame shooting from the cannon barrel. The
boom
crashed inside my eardrums and in my sternum, even through the palms of my hands, and even with an oatmeal cannonball.

In spite of my eardrums, I could hear the music roaring bloodshed and gunfire, drums, strings, and deep brass, as the cannons went off again and again. They filled the air with explosion, smoke, and dust. I looked at Joe, his hands over his ears, and I yelled, “Joe, you know what? What you did tonight? Standing up to those guys? You’re anything but a wuss.”

He grinned and took his hands off his ears. He practically had to yell for me to hear. “Nobody gets to treat you like that and get away with it.”

And with the cannons crashing around us, and in the middle of all the dust and music and smoke, and in sight of Susan and Janie and Timmy and God and everyone, Joe took my chin in his hand and lifted my face to his. And he kissed me. And we didn’t get interrupted.

My knees were already weak from terror, exhaustion, the race, adrenaline coming and going all day, and now this last run-in with the rednecks. When Joe brought his lips to mine, I was sure they would give out entirely. If he hadn’t had his arms wrapped around me, I thought I might have landed on the dusty quarry floor. I didn’t know lips could feel strong. But they did. Soft and strong all at once. But then his tongue flicked against mine and he pulled me tighter, and I forgot all about my knees.

The cannons roared and thundered, the dust rose, the music swelled around us, and his mouth melded to mine. And I felt it everywhere.

Twenty-Six

Ice Cream

The Fourth of July, continued

Nobody saw us kiss. Everybody was too busy watching the cannons and listening and covering their ears to pay any attention to us. Timmy included.

Timmy and Stevie begged to ride home with us from the concert. I would have liked fifteen minutes alone with Joe, but Joe looked at me, shrugged, and said, “Okay. Come on.” The little guys jumped up and down, so I felt guilty for not wanting them to come.

Driving home, I sat in the passenger seat like before, but now it felt different. If I was Joe’s girlfriend, should I sit next to him? I looked at the spot on the seat right next to him, where girlfriends usually sit in front seats, and the magnetic pull to be close to him was electric. I slid a little closer. As much as my seat belt would allow.

I’d had a boyfriend last year, Kevin, but he’d just asked me, “You want to go out with me?” and it meant we talked on the phone, sat together at basketball games, and danced at school dances. We watched movies in his basement three times, and he only gave me a quick peck on the lips each of those evenings. Mom wouldn’t let us be alone together if she could help it. “Too young,” she’d said. We were both fourteen when we started dating, fifteen when we broke up.

This was different.

And I wondered if I was a selfish, horrible person to be feeling all this when Allie was hiding somewhere. I had no idea where, and I wasn’t even sure why, except now I thought it must have something to do with scary leather-dude dad. But here I was, basking in the glow of Joe’s attention, wanting nothing more than for him to touch me again, the whole world looking more vibrant because Joe liked me, and because I’d raced and done okay, and all the while, Allie was in some subterranean hideout under my feet. What was wrong with me?

But, I tried to tell myself, Allie was the strong one, strong enough to hold up, even holed up.

Going up the last hill to Scout’s, Stevie leaned forward and squealed, “Look! Fireworks!”

Bottle rockets flared above the trees, a bouquet of illegal color from the junk woods. Colored sparks showered down toward the road and Joe slowed to avoid them. Somebody must have cleaned out his car right there: bottles and paper and cans and Dairy Queen containers heaped by the shoulder of the road. Joe and I shook our heads at each other.

When we pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, firecrackers crackled in the woods like popcorn popping.

“Can we do firecrackers?” Timmy asked.

“Nope,” I said. “Too dangerous with so many kids around. We’re going to go watch the big fireworks later, though.”

Timmy ran after Stevie into the house. They came running back out, whooping before we’d even gotten to the steps. “Sparklers! Look, Sadie!”

Scout produced eight boxes of sparklers, and the boys and Megan swirled arcs and circles of color in the yard and wrote their names against the sky.

I cornered Scout and told him about the rednecks at Rockin’ in the Quarry. And about how Joe stood up to them, without telling exactly what Joe had said.

“Good man, that Joe,” Scout put a new unlit cigar in this mouth. He winked at me. I wondered if he knew, or guessed. My uncle was no dummy.

Aunt Susan’s homemade ice cream had finally frozen, so Joe and I dished up ice cream for the kids, dropping a Hershey’s Kiss upside down in each cone. Firework explosions from the trailer court made a constant backdrop of noise and flashes through the kitchen window. Joe tilted his head toward the sound. “Reminds me of the concert. Like we’re in a battle zone.”

“Take the ice cream outside to eat it,” Janie hollered from the living room.

“Yes!” Stevie and Timmy bolted out, balancing ice cream.

“I’m so scared for Allie,” I said. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Me neither.”

Outside, Megan screamed. A blood-curdling, scared-within-an-inch-of-her-of-her-life scream, and Joe and I looked at each other.

“Cecil!” I dropped the ice cream scoop and we ran.

Around the corner toward the garage, Megan stood, ice cream cone upside down, as a little garter snake swirled like a green ribbon across the sidewalk.

“Oh!” I felt myself deflate with relief, felt the tension drop a few notches, and I could hear Joe let out his breath behind me. He stepped around me, nabbed the little snake behind the head, and carried him, curling and writhing, to the edge of the trees.

Megan’s lip pooched out. Her ice cream had splatted onto the sidewalk. “It stuck out its tongue at me!” she screeched.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what snakes do. But ya know what? They’re a lot scareder of you than you are of them. That’s why they stick out their tongues. ’Cause they’re so scared. If you don’t touch them, little snakes like that won’t touch you.”

Joe came back. “Little garter snake squiggled away in the grass as fast as he could go,” he said to Megan. “He was terrified. He’s never heard so much racket.”

“Then maybe he won’t come back.” Megan looked at Joe, then at me, skeptically but wanting to believe us. “He was scareder?” she asked.

“He sure was,” Joe said.

Finally relaxed enough to realize her ice cream loss, Megan screwed up her face to let out a wail, but I interrupted the dramatics. “Want new a new cone? We’ll get you a brand-new one.”

She nodded.

“Peapod!” Joe yelled. “Ice cream for you.”

Peapod came galumphing, happy and wagging, and found the ice cream with one sniff. He plunked down on the sidewalk, straddling it with his forelegs, and lapped it up with his giant tongue. I patted him on the butt and we went back inside.

When the last little kid ran outside with an ice cream cone, Joe said, “I guess my imagination is working overtime. I thought for sure—”

“Me, too.”

He kissed me on the temple. Susan walked into the kitchen and missed it by about half a second.

Everybody finished ice cream and trooped inside to wash sticky fingers and put on long sleeves against the inevitable mosquito onslaught at the big fireworks display, held up on the Minnesota State University campus.

The phone rang. Scout looked at Joe and me, and answered it in the kitchen. He kept looking at us. “Yes … I see … of course … thank you.” He stood quietly by the phone for a moment, then motioned us outside. “That was a nurse at the hospital. It seems that Father Malcolm is taking a turn. His vitals look worse, but he seems to be waking up.”

“Why did they call here?” Joe asked.

“I asked the nurses to call if there was any change. And the doctors said it was okay to put us on the call list.”

“Great,” I said. “Thanks.”

“You have any idea where Allie is?”

“Only an idea,” I said.

“And that is … ?”

“I think at A-1 Bike Shop. Mike knew where to find her, and that’s where she wanted me to meet her, so it’s the only place I can guess. And now we know for sure that she’s not at home.”

“My guess,” Scout said, “is that you’re right. I think maybe you should go together, pick her up, and trek up to the hospital. I don’t think she should be alone out on her bike tonight. And I think it would be good for her to see you, and good for Father Malcolm to see her.”

We stared at him.

“And I’d catch holy hell if I ditched the family right now to go with you, or else I would. Deal?”

Joe and I looked at each other. “Okay,” we said in unison, but without much confidence.

“Got your cell phone, Joe?”

Joe nodded.

“Call me when you’ve got Allie. Call me when you get to the hospital. Call me when you leave, okay? No funny business. Keep me posted. If there’s an emergency, I’ll come on the double. We’ll take two vehicles and Thomas can handle the women and kids. Fireworks are at ten. Just bring Allie along when you come back. Do her good to hang out with all of us crazies for the show. She’ll think her own situation isn’t quite so bad. Maybe.”

“You didn’t meet Cecil,” I reminded him.

I called A-1 Bike. I knew Allie wouldn’t answer the phone, but if she was in there, she might hear a message on the answering machine. “Allie. Joe and I are coming to pick you up. Back door of A-1. Five minutes from now. We got a phone call from the hospital about Father Malcolm. We’ll knock at the back door.”

So we set off.

We parked behind A-1, where Allie had told me to come at four o’clock. It was dark, dark, in the alley, but there were quite a few cars, probably for the bar two doors down. We sat in the car for a couple minutes. Nothing looked too suspicious, so we got out, locked Joe’s car, and walked up the rickety wooden steps to A-1’s back door.

We went into the entryway, like she’d told me to do. A dim light burned above us, cigarette butts littered the edges of the floor, and a stairway led up into the darkness. We knocked at the steel door in front of us.

Ferocious barking erupted inside, behind the door. We jumped back, from instinct. The dog, whoever it was, sounded like he could tear us limb from limb, and the barking was interspersed with snarling and dog nails against the door. We knocked again, and the snarling increased.

“Allie?” I called, softly but trying to be heard over the dog. We could tell when somebody came up and touched, or was holding, the dog. The scratching stopped and the occasional barks were muffled. “Allie!” I called louder. “It’s Sadie. And Joe. Allie?”

The door cracked open. “Sadie? Get in here.”

The dog’s mouth was all I could see, and it reminded me of a skill saw. The shop was dark except for the neon bike signs on the back wall and in the front window. I didn’t like the idea of stepping into the dark toward that mouth, but Allie hissed, “I’ve got Siren. Get in here.” She shoved the door open another couple inches.

Joe and I squeezed through the door, and Allie motioned to shut it. Joe pushed it closed.

“Shh,” Allie said to the dog. “Siren, be quiet.” The dog sat down immediately, docile, and let his tongue hang out. He looked up at Allie with nothing but adoration.

“Siren?” I said, my eyes adjusting to the dark.

He wagged at me.

“He didn’t know it was you,” Allie said. “Joe, bolt the door, will you?”

Joe bolted it.

“We know that dog,” I said.

“He followed you away from the hospital,” Joe said.

“And he was hanging around when the police came after we found Father Malcolm,” I said. “So, this is
Siren
.”

Allie nodded and rubbed Siren’s head. “He won’t hurt a flea. Except if that flea hurts me.” She grinned.

“Jeez, he looks like he’d rip our heads off,” Joe said.

“He’s probably capable,” Allie said. “He hates my dad. Probably thought it was him knocking. Siren, meet Sadie. And Joe.”

I forced myself to reach out my hand, palm down, and Siren licked it. I touched his head and he wagged. Joe gave him a pat, too.

Allie let go of his collar. He came over and sniffed my knees and Joe’s shoes, and then he went back and leaned against Allie’s leg.

“Has your dad been here?” I said. “And what are
you
doing here? Have you been here all the time?”

“My dad? No. Me, yeah. Seemed like a safe place. And Mike let me stay.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you hide from us?” I asked.

“Because you met my dad today. Mike told me,” she said. “And you could tell him you didn’t know where I was. Right?”

We nodded.

“And I figured you’re a lousy liar. If you’d known where I was, my dad would have gotten it out of you somehow. Trust me on this one. I figured he’d find you eventually, since his asshole friends that chased us know we’re friends, and the only way you’d be safe is if you really didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know what else to do. And I had to stick around town to win the race, so I’d have enough money to run away.”

“You
did
know those rednecks.”

“I don’t
know
them, but I recognized them.”

“Allie, did you know your dad was there? At the race?”

“Nope. Not ’til Mike told me. I didn’t see him. But I figured he would show up, knowing I wouldn’t miss it.”

“So tell us. Why in the heck did you take off after you saw Father Malcolm?” I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start.

“Wait,” Joe said. “Father Malcolm! Allie, he might be waking up … or dying … while we stand here.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“That’s why we’re here. The hospital called Scout. The nurse said he was ‘
taking a turn.
’ Getting worse but sort of waking up. Scout said we should come get you and go see him.”

“Holy smoke. Okay, let’s go. But I need to leave town tonight. Before my dad figures out where I am. He probably already knows. I bet he followed you. I’m sure he’s been watching you, once he figured out who you are.”

Joe looked at me. We both thought about the woods this morning when Peapod growled, but we didn’t say it out loud.

“Allie, I’m so confused—”