Dead Wednesday by Jerry Spinelli

Author:Jerry Spinelli [Spinelli, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2021-08-03T00:00:00+00:00

Where are you?????

I cant do it all!!!!

NOW!!!!!­!!!!!­!!!!!­!

Yeah, Mom, I’m gonna give up the most unbelievable experience in human history for a toilet brush. He shuts down his cell.

“The salty crunch is gone and there’s no streetlights out here and the road no longer feels connected to the steering wheel. I’m more skating than driving. And I don’t know where I am. I’m all turned around.

“OK…” She takes a deep breath, blinks, swallows. She’s reliving it, she’s back in the car. “OK—the house is over there”—she flaps her left arm—“somewhere. I gotta keep that in mind. Keep my bearings. I know the name of his street. I know the address. I just need to keep turning left, and sooner or later I’ll circle back to it.”

She kicks a mailbox post. “But it’s not happening. The road keeps taking me right, and when it finally dead-ends at a crossroad at the bottom of a hill, I go sailing right through the stop sign because there’s no salt”—she punches him—“there’s no salt. You understand, Worm?” Another punch. He understands, but he can’t speak. “There’s no salt and no light and it’s all hills and the nose of my father’s car is sticking into a snowbank.

“I do the only three things I can. I put the car in reverse, I press the gas pedal, and I pray. It works. I back out. I’m on the road again, loster than ever. Up, down. Up, down. Never saw so many hills. I’m using the brakes as little and as gently as possible. I know about that. I’m even using the trick my father told me: for better traction I’m driving with the right tires off the road, where it’s crunchier.

“I’m feeling pretty good about my snow-driving skills when I find myself at the top of a hill that isn’t curvy at all. It’s perfectly straight. But long. My high beams don’t reach the bottom. I stop. My foot’s on the brake. And the car starts moving anyway. It’s on its own, weaving, pirouetting, dancing with the ice….” She laughs. “There shoulda been waltz music.” She waves her hands back and forth. “La-dah-dah-de-dah…turning and turning and going faster and faster, and I’m thinking, ‘Screw what they say, I’m hitting the brake,’ and I’m practically standing on the pedal with both feet, and now the car isn’t dancing, it’s decided it’s just gonna go straight down—backward—and suddenly right there on the windshield is the man in the yellow vest, and he’s crying and he’s saying to me, ‘Please…please…,’ and I’m turning the wheel like a NASCAR driver and pounding the brakes, and it works and now the car is turning…turning…and just as it finishes turning and the man in the yellow vest goes away, here comes the tree.”

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