Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [29]
Grandpa had given us one of those jump start batteries a few years back. The family car was pretty pissy about starting, especially in the winter, and we’d gotten a lot of use out of the thing. Trudging through the drifts in the backyard, I managed to crack open the frozen shed doors and load up the battery and cables. Then I realized I couldn’t carry them on my bike. I went back into the trailer, strapped on my boots, and began trekking to Sage’s house.
Sage lived in one of Boyer’s few subdivisions, with newish houses owned by people who worked in Columbia. It was a nearly three-mile hike. Even with my track experience, lugging the heavy battery nearly killed me.
I had always pictured Sage’s house as some sort of gray, imposing structure, a place where laughter went to die. After all, her parents wouldn’t allow her to date, didn’t let her wear makeup until recently, and kept her away from public school. They had to be humorless Puritans, right?
When I found Sage’s house, I was almost convinced that I’d gotten the street number wrong. It was a blue ranch house, probably less than five years old. But what caught my eye was the gaudiest display of Christmas decorations this side of Branson.
The struggling saplings in the yard bent under the wads of tinsel and lights. An inflatable snowman billowed in the front yard, powered by a portable air compressor. Two ugly wire reindeer flanked the front door like some kind of hellhounds. There were enough lights on the roof to rival Busch Stadium.
I hauled the battery up the driveway, which was lined with giant plastic candy canes. These people weren’t dour religious nuts. They were tacky at a level you usually only saw at Graceland.
I found Sage in the garage smashing aluminum cans for the recycle bin. She dazzled me with her braces when she saw me approaching.
“You’re a lifesaver, Logan. I told Mom and Dad I’d keep an eye on Tammi, but she really wanted to go for a drive with Rob. Now we’ll both get in trouble if Dad finds out they weren’t here all night. The keys are in it. You get it started, and I’ll make you some hot chocolate.” She winked at me as she headed into the house.
As I unrolled the cables, I felt like John Wayne rushing in to save the day. It was a good feeling, and not just because of the sprig of plastic mistletoe I’d noticed over the front door. I just liked the idea of helping Sage. Liked knowing that she’d been in trouble and I’d been there for her.
The truck was so old that it was almost, but not quite, a classic. I knew enough about cars to know that it was one of those models that would suck a battery dry if you tried to start it wrong. I hooked up the cables and crossed my fingers.
The engine roared to life when I turned the key. I gunned the gas. I could see why Rob wanted to drive this beast. They didn’t make ’em this big anymore. Maybe I could convince Sage that we needed to charge up the battery by taking a quick drive.
“Logan Witherspoon, you’re my hero!” said Sage with only a little sarcasm. She was leaning on the driver’s door, a mug of cocoa in her hand.
“Take you for a spin?” I asked, grinning.
“Get out of there,” she chided. Disappointed, I left the engine running and hopped out.
Sage handed me the chipped I GOT BLOWN IN THE WINDY CITY—CHICAGO, ILLINOIS mug. I sipped the watery hot chocolate as Sage went back to crushing the cans.
“So, how was Christmas?” I asked.
She shrugged, not turning toward me. “It was okay.”
The truck coughed and shuddered but didn’t die. “This will take a few minutes. Want to go for a walk?”
Sage turned to me and shook her head. “Logan, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not supposed to have anyone over. I don’t know when everyone’s going to be back, and I don’t want them to catch you here.”
I set the cup on a workbench and pretended to check the cables. Sage had made me a beautiful gift but couldn’t or wouldn’t hang out with me. Sometimes she acted like I was great, but she had this weird phobia about