The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [43]
How much?
Well, Vince would be the guy to tell you for sure, because he’s the one who kept track, but I believe at that time the two Funds combined with our regular savings would have equaled about six thousand dollars. Which is totally, mind-bogglingly crazy, but we did run a pretty tight little operation, like I said before.
“Well, we should probably worry about getting rid of Staples before we worry about what seats to buy, because if we don’t do that, then there won’t be a Cubs game for us at all,” I said.
“I think this new plan will work, though. It’s kind of like my grandma says, ‘There ain’t no use whining like a sharecropper when it’s raining raisins and acrobats.’”
“Gross,” I said, but laughed anyway.
“Okay, Mac, I’ve got it,” Vince said.
“What, you know a better way to take out Staples’s operation?” I asked hopefully.
Vince smiled. “No, no. I’ve got a Cubs question that’s sure to crown me champion. Ready?”
I nodded and rubbed my temple.
“On what day and against what pitcher did Ernie Banks get his five-hundredth home run?”
“Ooh, tricky . . . I know that it was May twelfth, nineteen seventy, against Atlanta, but the pitcher . . . That’s not really a fair multiple-part question, Vince. It’s like two separate questions!” I said.
“Hey, remember that time you hit me with a double question on Ron Santo?”
He had a good point. I resumed rubbing my temple and closed my eyes.
After a few moments I smiled. “Pat Jarvis.”
Vince shook his head in defeat. “I really thought I had you that time.”
“All right, I better go. It’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember, we’re leaving around seven in the morning for the lake cabin,” I said. My parents rented a lake cabin a few weekends every year and they usually let me bring Vince with.
“Okay, Mac, see you.”
Outside I hopped on my bike. It was fall, so it was already dark even though it was only eight o’clock. That made it especially creepy being this close to the Creek. I cut through an alley across from Vince’s trailer park because it was a shorter route to my house. That’s when two headlights popped up behind me.
I turned and looked back; some car was turning into the alley. Perfect timing, I thought as my eyes squinted into the bright lights. I turned into someone’s back driveway to let the car pass through because there wasn’t room for a bike and a car in the narrow alley.
But it didn’t go. It just sat there at the entrance with its lights on and its engine running. I wondered if it was waiting for me to go through first. I decided that must be the case and rode back into the alley. Then I heard gravel crunch behind me as the car started driving forward.
What was this jerk doing?
The car’s headlights flicked a much brighter shade of whitish blue and blinded me. I heard the engine rev and the car surged forward even faster. I remembered the note from the locker saying I’d be roadkill if I didn’t hand over Fred. My heart began beating so fast and so high in my chest that it felt like I was choking on it.
I turned and pedaled, pushing as hard as I could as the car gained on me. There were six-foot wooden fences on either side of me. Nowhere to go but the end of the alley or the underside of the car. My lungs pumped and my calves burned.
I heard the car just a few feet back now. I was a dead man, I knew it, but I put on a burst of speed and cleared the alley, turning right as sharply as I could onto the sidewalk. My bike slid underneath me and I fell on top of it onto the grass.
The car exited the alley and screeched to a halt as it tried to turn right with me. It was going too fast and fishtailed out into the middle of the street. Under the streetlights I could see that it was an older red sports car with faded black racing stripes on the hood. The windows were tinted and I couldn’t see who was driving it. But I didn’t really have time to examine any closer, because the car suddenly lurched forward and then turned to face me.
I quickly got