Payback Read online

  And I was just about to tell him with a few choice words that it was time for him to get out of my life permanently when I heard it. Bass throbbing from a really loud stereo. It made my heart pick up speed. Kind of like that scene in Jurassic Park where they hear the distant thumping and know the T. rex is coming during the storm.

  Only this T. rex was a black pickup truck, cruising slowly straight toward us. I froze. I could see Jeff’s face through the windshield as he got closer. He looked crazy furious.

  “Crap,” I said through a cottony mouth. “You said he was gone for the night.”

  “Sometimes he lies,” Eliot said. “Better drop your bike. It’s time to start running.”

  Chapter Nine

  I tossed my bike onto the shoulder of the road and followed Eliot. I couldn’t believe it. Me and Eliot Barnes on the lam. And if Jeff Walker caught up with us, the outcome would not be good. Eliot deked down a driveway into a backyard, and I was right behind him.

  We started hopping fences, one backyard into the next, ignoring shouts from neighbors who spotted us. I was breathing hard and almost positive that as soon as we reached the street again he’d be waiting for us with a crowbar in his hand. But when we got to the next street over, he was nowhere in sight. Eliot stopped dead, and I nearly slammed into his back.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled. “Keep moving! He’ll find us.”

  “No, something’s weird,” Eliot said, narrowing his eyes. “He should still be looking for us. We should be able to hear his stereo. Why is it so quiet?”

  “When it gets quiet in a movie, that’s not a good sign,” I said. “Let’s split.”

  “Wait. I bet he’s gone back to my place,” Eliot said. “He wanted us to run! He’s going to clean all his stuff out. Bet he figures we ratted him out.”

  “That can’t be good,” I said. “I’m leaving. Now.”

  “Hang on! At least call that cop friend of yours, okay? Let’s stop him. Come on, Dylan.”

  “All right already,” I told him, dialing Nicole again. I waited. “She’s not answering.”

  “Then let’s sneak back and check it out,” Eliot practically begged me. “Just to see if he’s really there. You do this stuff all the time, don’t you? You’re always in the paper.”

  “Are you crazy? I almost never do it on purpose.” As I turned to bolt, he grabbed my sleeve and hung on.

  “Please! You gotta help me out.”

  For some ridiculous reason, I decided to go with him. That burning curiosity of mine won out, I guess. I kept checking over my shoulder, just to make sure Jeff wasn’t sneaking up on us. A few minutes later we were standing on the corner a couple of houses away from Eliot’s place. Eliot was right. The black pickup was in the driveway. The tailgate of the truck was down. Jeff was cleaning the place out.

  “Call the cops again,” Eliot said, sounding desperate. “Hurry. I’m so done with that jerk.”

  I did. Still no answer. So I left a quick message. Eliot’s street address.

  “We can’t let him take off before the cops come,” Eliot said. “But I don’t want it to look like it’s my fault they came. So I’ll go in and distract him, and you let the air out of his tires.”

  “What? I’m not even sure how to do that,” I lied.

  Eliot pushed a pocket knife into my hand. “Unscrew the cap and press the knife tip on the pin in the middle of the valve. It should happen pretty fast. I’ll hold him off.”

  “But what if he hurts you in there?” I said.

  “I can take care of myself, dude,” Eliot told me.

  I stared at the welt on his face and the bandage on his hand. I wasn’t so sure he was right, but I knew I had to do this for Eliot Barnes. As crazy as he was making me, as mixed up and confused as I was about this guy right now, it had to happen. Because, after all, he’d taken that punch in the face from trying to help me out just the night before. So I ducked down and made a dash for the back of the truck, and Eliot ran straight through his side door and started yelling.

  My hands were shaking as I pried open the knife. I tried to untwist the valve cap, but it was stuck. My hands were sweating and I couldn’t get a good grip. I peered over the side of the truck. The back was already crammed with tons of the stolen stuff I’d seen earlier. The whole pile was partially covered by a big black plastic tarp.

  I could hear them yelling at each other inside. Mostly Jeff cursing and telling Eliot to get out of his way. And Eliot squawking about the money Jeff owed him. The stupid cap was still stuck. When I peeked again I saw Eliot in the doorway, frantically motioning for me to hide. And then I saw the back of Jeff, dragging a tire out the door.

  There was no place to hide, and I didn’t want Jeff to see me running. I dropped Eliot’s knife, dove straight into the back of the truck and crawled deep under the tarp. And did not move. I heard a huge thunk, and the whole truck shook. Jeff tossing in the tire. Then he slammed the tailgate. Crap! I sucked in a huge breath. Surely Nicole would show up any second now.

  “Get your butt in the truck,” I heard Jeff tell Eliot.

  Both truck doors slammed, the engine roared, and the truck shot out of the driveway. When I peered out from the flapping tarp, everything was a blur. Maybe a cop would notice Jeff speeding and pull the truck over. I even thought about jumping out if we ever stopped. But he just rolled through every stop sign.

  Scared didn’t come close to describing the way I felt. How was I going to get out of this stupid mess? If I tried to stand up, he’d spot me and drive even faster. Until either I fell out or he got me someplace where there’d be no witnesses. If I started waving and maybe grabbed a passerby’s attention, Jeff might spot me in his rearview mirror. I needed a plan, and I needed it fast.

  I tried calling Nicole again. What good would it do now if the cops showed up at Eliot’s address? Still no answer. So I left another message. “Look for the black Ford pickup on Main Street, headed south out of town. And hurry!”

  Then I got an idea. From under the tarp, I started tossing some of those designer running shoes out the back. But the drivers behind us just ignored it, as if flying running shoes happened all the time. We were getting closer to the edge of town, and I was almost getting desperate enough to jump. If Jeff made it onto the highway ramp, I’d be sunk.

  I felt around the dirty truck bed and found a big coil of yellow nylon rope. I tied one end to a tire, then flung the whole coil over the side. It started unspooling and flapping along the road behind us like a giant yellow tail. Finally, someone noticed. Unfortunately, it was Jeff. I could hear him cursing in the cab as he veered his truck toward the shoulder.

  There wasn’t a house in sight. Only trees and bushes and other cars whipping past and totally ignoring us. When Jeff found me hiding back there, I’d be toast. I grabbed a rusty wrench for protection and gritted my teeth, ready to do what I had to. But the truck suddenly started to fishtail. For a second I was sure we were headed for the ditch. And then I saw it. A blue Mazda headed toward town started to slow down as it passed us.

  I had nearly given up hope, but then it pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road and started heading toward us.

  Chapter Ten

  As the Mazda got closer I realized who was in the car. Nicole—finally. I could see her waving madly from the front seat. Her boyfriend, Greg, was hunched over the steering wheel like some intense Indy race-car driver. I figured she probably wouldn’t have her gun in the car, but at least she was a cop on a mission. Jeff started to speed up again. But the Mazda raced ahead, then cut in front of the pickup and started forcing him off the road.

  I didn’t even wait for Jeff’s truck to stop. It was still rolling along the roadside gravel when I flung off the tarp, vaulted over the side and hit the ground running. I headed straight into the woods, sidestepping tree trunks and dodging low branches. I didn’t dare slow down until I couldn’t breathe anymore. When my legs started feeling like a couple of lead weights, I leaned up against a tree, sucking in air. Be
hind me, Nicole was frantically yelling my name.

  “Dylan! Get back here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Was it really? By the time I’d limped my way back, a police cruiser was on the scene. Jeff and Eliot were already in the backseat. And I could finally breathe again. Nicole was leaning against the Mazda beside Greg, trying to smile. But her face was totally stiff and white.

  “God, Dylan,” she said, then wrapped me in a tight hug. “What were you thinking?”

  “Where were you, Nicole? I kept calling you!”

  “I was in a movie. My phone was off. When I got your message I headed straight back to town. When in doubt, call 9-1-1.” She was still hugging me hard.

  “But you’re my 9-1-1,” I said, squirming out of her iron grip.

  “I’m not always on duty. I actually have a life, you know.” She sighed.

  “Thanks for saving my butt,” I said.

  “Oh boy, I can hardly wait to hear this one,” she said.

  A while later a bunch of us were sitting around a table at Rocky’s Roadhouse. Cory, Ivy and Monica, plus Gran and Buddy, Nicole and Greg, and even Robbie were there. My mom kept looking over at me and shaking her head from behind the bar. I’d pretty much single-handedly devoured two pounds of wings and a heap of sweet-potato fries. I did let Monica have a couple of them. By the way she kept staring at me, I figured she was way past my dumb blunder from Friday night.

  Nobody could believe the craziness that had happened to me. And the reporter and photographer from the Bridgewood Weekly had just wrapped up their latest interview. Yep, I’d made the paper again.

  “That poor Eliot,” my gran said to Nicole. “I can hardly believe he’s been living by himself all this time. What will become of him now?”

  “Well, at age seventeen he can legally live alone,” Nicole told us. “And the justice system should go easy on him, since he’s the one who helped us bust Jeff Walker. Apart from that, there’s not much anyone can do.”

  “It’s a shame he has no friends. Isn’t it, Dylan?” Gran said, looking over at me. “Sure would be nice if he had someone in his life that he could count on.”

  I wished Gran would stop talking about it. Now everyone was staring at me. As if I could help fix Eliot’s problems.

  “He knows he makes all the wrong choices,” I told them. “But he won’t even try to help himself. And I can’t figure out why he kept following me around anyway.”

  Nicole sighed. “Sometimes abused kids can’t detach themselves from abusers, and the cycle never stops. Maybe for once he felt more like a winner than a loser by hanging out with you, Dylan. Because you were nice to him.”

  “Actually I wasn’t that nice,” I admitted. “And I kept trying to ditch him. You know, he told me he can’t even find a job.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty crappy,” Cory said. “But maybe he just needs someone to give him a chance.”

  No doubt about it, Eliot Barnes wasn’t easy to like. And he sure knew how to make all the wrong moves. But it seemed like he wanted to change his life. I touched Robbie’s arm.

  “You know how come summer I’ll be back working at Granitewood Lodge, Robbie? You’ll be needing a new ice cream scooper, won’t you?”

  Robbie grinned at me. “Say no more, Dylan,” she said. “I can always give Eliot a shot if he’s interested. And maybe he won’t throw ice cream on the floor like you do.”

  “Low blow,” I said, and everyone laughed and started making fun of me.

  When I heard the door to the roadhouse creak open, I looked up. And there he was. Yep. Eliot Barnes, standing in the doorway, waving me over. But then he ducked right back outside again.

  “Be back in a sec,” I told Monica, then hurried to the door.

  He stood there looking all awkward.

  “So what’s up, Eliot?” I was finding it hard to stay mad at the guy.

  “Just wanted to drop this off.” He handed me a package wrapped in brown paper. “Thought maybe you could use it. And I fixed your tires.”

  There was my bike, leaning against the wall. “How did you even know I was here?” I said.

  “Your mom works here, right? Thought I’d check.”

  “What the heck is this thing?” I opened the package and lifted out a flat slice of tree trunk about the size of a Frisbee. With words carved into it, outlined with a heart. I smiled.

  “Seriously? You carved this yourself?”

  “Yeah, I don’t always use my pocketknife for slashing tires,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “Sometimes when I’m bored I sit around and whittle stuff.”

  I stared at his still-bandaged hand. “Must’ve hurt while you were carving, huh?”

  “Nah, it’s not so bad. I’ve had worse.”

  I shook my head. This kid never gave up, good or bad. Well, hopefully he was done with the bad stuff once and for all.

  “Thanks. It’s perfect,” I told him. “You were right about my gran’s wallet, you know. She found it in Buddy’s car.” Eliot raised one eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “And thanks for fixing my tires too,” I added.

  “No problem. It’s payback,” he said. “Because you helped me out. I thought this could help you out.”

  He smiled at me, then looked at the ground. He probably wasn’t used to smiling much.

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “Look, do you want to come in, maybe hang out for a bit?”

  “Nah. Got to get home and start cleaning up my place. Maybe some other time though.”

  Another quick smile, and then he was gone. I stood there for a second, holding the disk of wood. It was now or never. I’d just give it to Monica and explain later. I went back inside and walked over to the table. I set the wooden circle down right in front of her.

  “What’s this?” she said, looking up at me and frowning.

  “Read it out loud,” I told her. “I had it made just for you. By a local carver.”

  “Really?” She started grinning as soon as she picked it up and read the words aloud. “Wooden it be great if you wood be my date? Oh my god, Dylan! This is so awesome.” And then she jumped up and wrapped her arms around me.

  I took that as a yes.

  Deb Loughead is a regular contributor to the Orca Currents series. The Snowball Effect, Caught in the Act and Rise of the Zombie Scarecrows also feature Dylan and his friends. Deb lives in Toronto, Ontario. For more information, visit www.debloughead.ca.