Two Schools Out - Forever

117

"Black Ranger to Feather One," Total said softly. "Coast is clear. Come in, Feather One."

"Total, I'm right here," I whispered. "We don't even have walkie-talkies."

"No, but we should," Total whispered back. "I should have one, and it could-"

I put my hand over his mouth, looking at the mountains of rusted metal, ancient appliances, and empty car husks that stretched for acres around us. I signaled over my shoulder, and Fang, Gazzy, and Nudge scampered past me and crouched next to a bunch of doorless refrigerators.

There had been only one guard, who looked as if he couldn't guard his way out of a paper bag. We'd left him in front of his oil-drum fire clear on the other side of this enormous junkyard-chop shop. Or at least I assumed it was a chop shop, given the suspicious number of relatively late-model cars that were tucked away in an airport hangar-sized building.

Which was where we were heading.

"Okay, now, the last time we were in a car...," Fang whispered in my ear.

"That was different," I said impatiently. "Anyway, we're not going to steal a van."

"What are we going to steal this time?" Iggy whispered. "Can I have a turn driving?"

"Oh, ha ha," I said drily, and he smothered a snicker.

"That one," I whispered, pointing to a low, sleek, sporty number.

Which turned out to have no engine.

In fact, every one of these stupid cars had some huge problem with it: no steering wheel, or no wheels, or no dashboard, or no seats. An hour later I was ready to smack something in frustration.

"What now?" Fang asked in a low voice, crouching next to me. "Public transportation?"

I gave him a sour look.

"Max?" Nudge's voice was uncharacteristically quiet. She brushed some long curls out of her face. "I've been thinking."

Oh, here we go, I thought tiredly.

"If we take the seats out of the Camry, and the wheels off the Bug, and the battery out of the Caddy, and then we get the steering wheel from the Accord, and we drop that engine back into the Echo and hook up a new air filter, we could just take the Echo and be good to go." Her big brown eyes looked at me anxiously. "Don'tcha think?"

"Whoa," said Total, sitting down.

"Uh," I said.

"There's its air filter right on that table," she added helpfully.

"Since when do you know all this?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"I like cars. I always used to read Jeb's annual car issue from Consumer Reports. Remember?"

"Huh. Well, I guess that sounds like a plan, then," I said. "Everyone clear on what to do?"

Even the loser guard would have heard an engine starting, so we had to push the Frankenstein car out through the junkyard gate and a couple blocks away before we could even see if any of this worked.

When we were far enough away, Fang slid behind the steering wheel, and I applied my talent to hot-wiring the car.

The engine actually fired! True, it sounded rough, and the car backfired several times like rifle shots, but we were running, baby.

"Everybody in!" I said.

Which was when we discovered the final problem.

Little Echos aren't designed to hold six, count them six, larger-than-average-sized children.

And their wings.

And a dog.

"This is like a clown car," Total grumbled from my lap in the front seat.

"Why does the dog get to sit in your lap?" Gazzy asked plaintively, as we rattled and banged down the dark streets. "How about a kid?"

"Oh. 'The dog.' Very nice," said Total.

"Because you're not allowed to have people on your lap in the front seats," I explained. "It's not safe. If a cop saw us, we'd be stopped for sure. You want Total back there?"

Everyone in the back screamed no at the same time.

"Let's just deal, people," I said. "Only for a little while. We're going to stop as soon as we find a place to sleep."

"'The dog,'" Total muttered, still mad.

"Shh," I told him.

"Are you saying you're not a dog?" the Gasman asked. He was tired. We were all tired and hungry and cranky.

"Okay, you two," I said sternly. "Enough! Everyone quiet, okay? We're looking for a place to sleep. Just chill."

Fang glanced back in the rearview mirror. "Does anyone want to sing 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall'?"

We all screamed no at the same time.