Pitch (2 page)

Pulling my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans I consulted it one last time. It was surprisingly easy to find out how to hot wire a car on the internet. One site even had step by step instructions complete with pictures. “You have the screw driver and wire strippers?” I asked Travis. He reached behind him to pat the orange backpack he had slung over both shoulders. “Okay,” I said, cracking my knuckles. “Let’s do this.”

Two weeks ago we had picked out the car. It belonged to a man who lived in the third house down on the left, a split level rancher with scary little garden gnomes scattered all over the lawn. According to his mailbox his name was Mr. Livingston. He drove a 2003 black Toyota Corolla. According to Kelly Blue Book it got thirty five miles to the gallon and was a top safety pick. Whatever the hell that meant.

Side by side Travis and I walked down the sidewalk, trying our best to look like two regular teenagers out for a stroll at eight thirty on a Tuesday night. From somewhere across the street a dog was barking. A woman yelled and the dog shut up. Halfway to Mr. Livingston’s driveway a car pulled up behind us. I felt Travis tense and tightened my grip on his arm. The car’s lights flashed as it swung wide into the other lane and shot past, tires squealing.

“Jackass,” I said.

“Do you think they know what we’re doing?” Travis asked nervously. The poor guy was already sweating bullets. I squeezed his arm.

“Calm down. This will be fun.”

“Fun?” he squeaked. “You think stealing a car is
fun
?”

I sighed. “Need I remind you that you agreed to this over a month ago? And besides, we’re not stealing. We’re just… starting. It’s not like we’re going to drive it anywhere.”
Probably not
, I added silently.

“What if we get caught?”

“Then I’ll take the all the blame, just like I told you yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. You know Travis if you didn’t want to come you didn’t have to. I’m not twisting your arm or anything.”

“Uh,” he said. “You kind of are.”

I looked down to where my fingers were making little red marks on his skin and immediately let go. “Oh. Sorry.”

He rubbed his arm and managed a weak smile. “It’s okay. A little nervous too, huh?”

“I’m not nervous,” I scoffed. “This is going to be easy.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone sitting in jail said too.”

I shot him The Look. He made The Face but stopped talking. We walked right past Mr. Livingston’s driveway, just like we planned, and went to the next street up before we turned around and walked back down. Two teenagers. Out for a stroll. Dressed all in black. Nothing suspicious here.

The Toyota was sitting right in the middle of the short, slightly sloped driveway. I slinked up to the driver’s side and Travis hovered just over my right shoulder, his breath hot on my neck.

“Okay,” I said, mostly to myself. “Okay. First step is to get into the car without setting off the alarm. Travis, hand me the wedge and the coat hanger.” I held out my hand expectantly. Flexed my fingers. “Travis? Travis!”

“I don’t think it’s locked,” he whispered. “The little nub is up.”

“Of course it’s locked. What idiot doesn’t lock their car?”

“We’re not on the West side, Lola. No one locks their cars here.”

I clenched my teeth and counted to three. “Travis, just give me the damn wedge and –”

Instead Travis reached past me and opened the door. His teeth flashed white in the encroaching darkness. “See?” he said triumphantly. “Told you.”

I bumped him out of the way with my hip. “Whatever. So Mr. Livingston is an idiot. It’s not as if he – damn it!” I cursed.

“What? What? What is it? Is someone coming?” Travis flattened himself against the side of the car and dropped to the ground. It would have been funny if I wasn’t so angry. 

“He left the keys
in
the ignition!” Stupid yuppie East siders. They deserved to have their cars stolen.

“That’s too bad,” said Travis, making no attempt to disguise his relief. He stood up and made a grab for my elbow. I snatched my arm out of reach.

“No,” I said stubbornly. “We’re not leaving yet.”

“Lola... If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking –”

“I think we said we were going to steal a car,” I interrupted. “And that is exactly what we’re going to do. Now get in.”

“Get
in
?” he gaped. “Uh uh. No way. You said we were just going to hot wire it, not drive it. You promised.”

I felt an irrational surge of anger. This wasn’t turning out anything like I thought it would. We were supposed to break in the car, start it, and drive off into the sunset like a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. Why?
Because I can
.

Except now the car wasn’t locked, the stupid keys were in it, and my partner in crime had turned chicken.

Flipping my long hair behind my shoulder I slid smoothly into the front seat and turned the key. The car started with a quiet purr and my anger kicked over to adrenaline. It pumped through my veins, a better high than any stupid cigarette could give me.

 Rolling down the window I leaned out and grinned at Travis who stared down at me in slack jawed disbelief. “Want to go for a ride, sugar?” I said in my best southern drawl.

“No.”

“Get in, Travis.” It wasn’t a request.

“We are so going to jail,” he whimpered before he ran around the back of the car and more or less fell into the passenger seat. I grinned recklessly as I put the car in reverse and started to glide down the driveway.

“They don’t put straight A students with full scholarships to Princeton in jail, my friend. You’re safe.”

“I don’t want you to go to jail either,” he said.

I glanced over at him. His face was white as a sheet and he had both hands braced against the dash board, but he was doing it. He was here. I sighed. Damn it.

“What are you doing?” he asked as I tapped the brakes and slid the car into drive at the bottom of the driveway. “Lola? What’s going on?”

“We drove a stolen car, didn’t we?” I said, beyond disgruntled. “Now we’re putting it back. Safe and sound. You can add it to your –”

A huge crash from inside the house cut me off mid sentence. Heart pounding, I pulled the car back up to exactly where it was before and killed the engine. Travis and I hunched low in our seats. I saw the whites of his eyes flash as he turned his head to look at me.

“What was that?” he hissed.

“Why are you asking me?”

“We have to get out of here. We have to run. We have to run away and never say a word about this to anyone.”

I sucked on the inside of my cheek, considering our options before I said, “We can’t go yet.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because, dummy, if we open up the doors the little lights will go on and he’ll know we’re out here.” It wasn’t something I had thought about until just this minute. I guess part of me always imagined that Mr. Livingston of 233 Turner Street wouldn’t be home when we tried to steal his car. A stupid presumption, since if he was gone chances were he would have taken his car with him.

I sat up just enough to see the front of the house. None of the lights were on, which was weird, because I knew I had heard something fall over inside. Maybe he had a dog. Or a giant cat. Maybe he wasn’t even home.

“What are you waiting for? Just turn the lights off,” said Travis.

I drew in a deep breath. I had really been hoping to avoid this part. “I kind of… uh… don’t know how.”

“Lola,” he said in an oddly strained voice. “What are you talking about?”

Oh boy. “I’ve never exactly driven a car before and I don’t know where the switch is,” I admitted. Honestly, it was a miracle I had gotten it down the driveway without hitting something. Travis should have been happy. 

Silence. And then…

“WHAT?”

“Shut up!” In the darkness I found his mouth and slapped my hand over it. It was a good thing it was dark inside the car so Travis couldn’t see my face was the approximate color of a tomato. “I wasn’t planning on actually driving it anywhere,” I said. “Are you going to be quiet now?”

He shook his head, which I took to mean ‘yes’, and I slowly withdrew my hand.

“You’re insane,” he said the second his mouth was uncovered. “Absolutely nuts. You told me you got your driver’s license six months ago.”

“I lied. I don’t even have my permit.”

“Don’t even… No permit… Crazy…” He continued to sputter out random words while I snuck another look at the house. Still no lights. That decided it. Mr. Livingston was either asleep or not home. A pet must have knocked something over which explained the loud noise. We were in the clear.

“Let’s go,” I said. I opened up the door and shut it silently behind me, holding extra long to the handle so there wasn’t even a click as it went back into place. The lights inside the car popped on, just like I thought they would. I glared at Travis through the window and tapped my wrist, a clear signal that time was ticking away.

Travis, being Travis, scrambled across the center console and spilled out of the driver’s side door. He landed hard on his hands and knees. Grabbing his elbow, I hauled him up to his feet. He dusted himself off and straightened up, still angry, but at least capable of talking coherently again.

“I hate you,” he said succinctly.

“Where is your backpack?” I asked, ignoring him.

His head swiveled around as he tried to look over his shoulder.

I sighed. “You left it in the car, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“Go grab it. I’ll keep a look out. Then we are – did you hear that?” I broke off with a frown. I tilted my head to the side and closed my eyes, trying to pin point the direction of the sound.

“Hear what? I don’t hear anything.”

“It sounded like… A cry for help,” I decided. My eyes opened. I frowned at Travis. “You really didn’t hear that?”

“I
told
you I didn’t hear –”

But Travis never got finish what he going to say as a blood curdling scream the likes of which I had never heard outside of a horror movie tore through the night.

CHAPTER TWO

I Knock on a Door

“Did you hear
that
?” I asked Travis.

“We have to c-call the police,” he stuttered, looking physically ill. I didn’t blame him. I was feeling a little queasy myself. A human being doesn’t make a noise like that unless they’re in some serious pain. 

“And tell them what? We were about to steal some guy’s car when we heard him scream? No way,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s dumb.”

Travis staggered over to the side of the driveway and sank down on his haunches. “Bad idea,” he said to himself. “I knew this was a bad, bad idea. Lame, man. Really lame.”

“What if we call your mom?” I suggested.

Genuine terror filled Travis’s eyes. “No way. Absolutely not. I would rather go in the house myself.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it. Let’s go. I’ll knock on the front door and you go around back and look in the windows. We can’t just leave without doing anything.”

Travis might have been a chicken, but he was a chicken who knew right from wrong. “I would rather steal the car,” he said glumly.

“Saving a guy’s life from a psycho axe murderer is
so
much cooler than stealing a car. We’ll be famous. Mr. Livingston will probably give us a reward or something.” With one hundred dollar bills dancing in from of my eyes I started walking towards the front door. It wasn’t far from the driveway and the stone walkway was illuminated with ground lights, making it easy navigate. I heard a loud sigh and then the noisy shuffle of Travis’s sneakers as he caught up to me.

“This is such a bad idea,” he said. “What if there really is an axe murderer or you know, a robber or something?”

“Then I’ll use my cell phone and call the police.”

“Why not call the police now?”

“Because we’re right here.” And we were. The front door loomed in front of me, a silent taunt to go ahead and prove my mettle. I raised my fist to knock. Hesitated. Glanced at Travis. “Go around back and see if you can see anything.”

He looked at me like I was nuts. “Don’t you know the first rule of not getting killed by a crazy axe murderer? You
never
split up.”

Since Travis was the horror movie guru, I decided to take his word for it. “If someone opens this door,” I said out of the corner of my mouth, “and pulls me inside you better have my back. Got it?”

“Got it.”

I felt his hand press reassuringly against my shoulder and I took a deep breath.

 
Why are you knocking on a stranger’s door after you just heard screaming coming from inside, Lola?
asked the rational side of my brain.

Because I can
, said the reckless part.

I knocked on the door.