Lucky Jonah by Richard Scrimger

Lucky Jonah by Richard Scrimger

Author:Richard Scrimger [Scrimger, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Canada, Childrens, Cultural, Fiction, GLBT, Identity Crisis, Middle Grade, Young Adult
ISBN: 9781443410717
Google: _x6oCgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1443410713
Publisher: HarperTrophy
Published: 2016-05-02T23:00:00+00:00


DAN’L

CHAPTER 25

The feeling doesn’t last long, but I plan to remember it to my dying day. For the first time in my life, I am behind the wheel of a car. No, not a car. A dream.

Technically, it’s a Dodge Viper—bright red paint, black leather upholstery, and a speedometer that goes up to 330 kilometers an hour. Yes, 330. I know. Even the wiper blades move fast. The rain has no chance. The automatic shifter on the floor oozes with power. The dashboard gleams and flashes. The sound system pumps out block-rocking beats.

And me? I’m wearing driving gloves that are as soft and supple as a second skin, and a black leather vest with fringes. The mirror shows me in a cowboy hat with a long brim and a low crown. My chin is long and firm. My eyes are covered, despite the grey day, by the coolest sunglasses in history. Oh, and I have a cell phone looped around my ear. I look about eighteen. Either I have a heckuva summer job, or I’m rich. I am, for all intents and purposes, a Master of the Universe.

I can move all my muscles with ease. Whew! Do all old people feel as bad as Elegrooter? I hope not. Nana sounds chirpy when Mom and I visit the Golden Years Villa, even if she doesn’t know our names.

So I’m driving the world’s fastest car, wearing incredible clothes, and not hurting. To think I would have settled for being Nikolai. This me is way cooler.

There is a minor hiccup when I try to stop for the red light at Hibernia Street. I hit the brake hard, and the car skids. I had Magnus’s reflexes, and Elegrooter’s, and now I have this guy’s. Master of the Universe but a lousy driver. The car keeps skidding. Oh-oh.

Time slows down, and I see the future spooling away like a dropped roll of toilet paper. I’ll skid into the intersection and get T-boned by a teenager taking the family dog to the vet. Trapped, I’ll need the Jaws of Life to get out, and then the dog will bite me—and turn out to have rabies . . .

The intersection is empty. I end up with the Viper’s nose pointing up Hibernia Street. I give the accelerator a touch with my foot, just enough to take me to the next intersection. The light’s red, and I stop easily. When the light changes, I turn right again. Legally this time.

Oh, yeah.

The rain is letting up. I shut off the windshield wipers first try.

“Hey!” I say aloud. Getting a bit of confidence back. “Hey, I can do this.” I have a husky voice, I find. And a bit of an accent, like I’m from the South. (Ah kin do this.)

Man, I am the bomb.

I want this life. My new one. My real one.

“Kinda cool.” I say it out loud and smile into the mirror. Whoever I am, thank you.

Could I stay in this life forever? Is that what Gord



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