Read Online Ariel by Steven R. Boyett - Free Book Online

warmed. "Do well at your tournament, hon."
    I smiled. "Don't I always?"
    "I wouldn't know. You've never brought home a trophy."
    "'Bye, Mom."
    "I'll see you when I get home."
    I hung up, put on my ugly brown and green coat, and stuffed its non-matching tie into a pocket so I could carry the briefcase and card file outside. I hoped Grace wasn't pissed off; she'd gone out of her way to pick me up as it was.
    Accouterments dumped into the back seat, Grace put the car in gear and we headed out. "Where is everybody?" she asked, commenting on the empty driveway.
    I ticked them off on my fingers. "My brother has a soccer game in Miami Springs. My parents—my mom, I mean—is at work. I'm going to a debate tournament. I think our dog's out on the back porch. My father's dead."
    "Not funny."
    "So solly."
    The rest of the drive to our high school was spent in silence. Grace parked in the senior parking lot because it made her feel superior; we were both freshmen.
    At the cafeteria Grace and I spotted our school's other three teams.
    "Master debaters," I announced, "we are here!"
    Bill Thurgood looked up to regard me blandly with his pasty expression. "You'll pardon us if we don't stand up," he said.
    I gave him my best diabetes-inducing smile. "I thought you were standing up, Bill." Bill was short.
    Jim Allen, the club president, handed us a dittoed sheet still smelling faintly of alcohol. "We've got a bye in the third round." I pointed out the shadowed box to Grace.
    "You've also got a round right now in two thirty-six. You're negative team."
    "Wonderful."
    The team was waiting for us when we got to 236. We set up quickly, shook hands all around, and got started.
    The lights went out just as I concluded my rebuttal speech. It was four-thirty. We opened the shades to brighten the room and resumed the debate.
     
    * * *
     
    We had an hour-long break between first and second rounds. Grace and I went out to her car, planning to grab dinner at Burger King.
    The car wouldn't start.
    "Did you check the tires?" I asked.
    "Funny." She turned the key in the ignition once more, pumping the gas pedal with her high-heeled foot.
    "Alas, poor Falcon ," I said mournfully. "I knew it well."
    She shot me a hateful look. "Don't you know anything about cars? I thought all guys were supposed to."
    "Fortunately, I am not the typical high school male. This is everything I know about cars: you put the key in and turn it. Through some mystical process I'll never understand, the engine starts. If you want to go forward you press your foot down. If something goes wrong you fix it."
    "And how do you fix it?"
    I shrugged. "You call a mechanic."
    "Gee, thanks." She pulled the key out of the ignition. "I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that this is your way home tonight, too."
    "Yes, it has. Look, your engine's not even turning over. It's probably your battery. Maybe we could get a jump from somebody."
    "Yeah, okay. Good idea." Her tone said that she didn't think it was such a good idea, but that she had no better one.
    I got out and walked over to another car with two guys sitting in the front seat. They looked familiar; I think they were from Killian High. I explained our situation to the driver and asked if he could give us a jump. Grace had cables in her trunk.
    "Sorry," he said. "I can't get mine to start, either."
    I frowned. Looking over the roof of his car I saw three people trying to push-start a Volkswagen at the far end of the parking lot. "Have you looked under the hood yet?" I asked him.
    "No. It's probably the same problem you've got, though. Dead battery."
    "Or a missing one." I pointed at the Volkswagen. "I wouldn't put it past somebody to come by here and steal batteries out of some of the cars."
    He got out and opened the hood. The battery was still there. "Well, that answers that. Let's try something." He opened his trunk and pulled out a set of jumper cables. After attaching them to the battery's terminals he held the loose ends and touched