AT JUST PAST DAWN, a small group of teens stood around in the empty parking lot of Stony Brook Middle School, stomping their feet on the leaf-strewn blacktop to try and stay warm. They clutched cups of Starbucks coffee for warmth, yawned, and generally fought to keep their eyes open at an hour that was so crazy-early the sun was barely peeking over the treetops.
“Why are we doing this so early?” a kid with a hoodie pulled tight over his head asked nobody in particular. “On a Sunday. It’s crazy.”
A tall guy with blond hair cut so short he looked bald was the only one who didn’t seem annoyed to be there or bothered by the cold. He leaned against a jet-black Mustang like he owned it, with his arms casually folded across his chest.
“No problem, you can sleep in next time,” he said to his friend with no sympathy. “We’ll visit you in the hospital.”
“You know why we’re doing this now,” another guy said impatiently. “We’ve got the whole block to ourselves.”
A girl with a bold streak of purple in her long dark hair glanced at her cell phone.
“We’re in the window,” she said. “Church got out ten minutes ago. If we don’t go soon, traffic’s gonna start picking up again.”
“He’s not coming,” the kid with the hoodie said, annoyed. “I knew he wasn’t coming. I got out of bed for nothing. I’m gonna find that little weasel and pound him until he—”
The tall blond guy threw his hand up to silence the hoodie kid.
“Shh,” he commanded.
Everyone listened. The only obvious sound was the swirling prewinter wind rushing through the trees.
“What?” Hoodie snarled, impatiently. “A storm’s coming. So what?”
The blond guy smiled. “Storm’s already here. He’s driving straight into it.”
That’s when they all heard it. The rumbling. What at first could only be sensed by the blond ringleader was now obvious to everybody.
“That’s him,” the girl with the purple streak said with a mischievous grin. “It’s on.”
Another car turned off the road and into the parking lot where the group stood waiting. The throaty growl of its engine drowned out the steady sound of the chilly wind.
“Oh yeah,” the blond guy said with satisfaction. “It’s definitely on.”
“Theo!” I exclaimed.
He had answered his cell phone. Finally. I ran out of the kitchen and went straight up the stairs for his bedroom. I didn’t want Harry to hear what I had to say.
Lu was right behind me.
“Where have you been?” Theo asked anxiously. “I’ve been calling you all morning.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I said. “My battery died. Lu’s here too.”
“She wasn’t answering either,” Theo said. “But it’s okay. It’s over. You’ll never believe where I am. Joe drove us out to—”
“It’s not you, Theo,” I said.
“Uh…what?” Theo asked, off-balance. “What do you mean?”
“It’s your father,” I said bluntly. “Your mother, too, for all I know. They’re the ones in trouble.”
I got nothing from the other end of the phone but silence. I guess I should have been a little gentler about the way I broke the news to him, but there were more important things going on. I waited for him to process the information, though I was afraid we were running out of time.
“Theo?” I finally said to make sure we hadn’t been cut off.
“What’re you talking about?” Theo said with confusion. “My birthday present was a helicopter ride. Joe and I are at the Stony Brook airport. It’s a red helicopter! I’m looking at it right now. That’s the red thing that crashes. It’s gotta be. It has nothing to do with my father.”
“A helicopter!” Lu exclaimed, leaning over my shoulder. “You’re not going up in that thing, are you?”
“Of course not!” Theo said. “I refused, but it didn’t matter. The pilot had already canceled the flight because of all the wind.”
I felt Lu tense up next to me. I knew exactly what she was thinking.
“The pilot canceled the flight?” I asked. “You didn’t ask him to do it?”
“I didn’t have to,” Theo replied. “It’s way too dangerous to fly.”
“Then it’s definitely not about that helicopter, T,” I said. “It can’t be. If the pilot canceled the trip, it means you had nothing to do with changing things. You were never meant to go up. That wasn’t your future. Nothing’s changed. I’m telling you—I saw your dad on FaceTime two minutes ago. He was wearing a bright blue shirt. I thought the image in the crystal ball was you, but it was him. Whatever’s going to happen, it’s gonna be to him.”
“But how? Why?” Theo exclaimed. “It wasn’t his fortune.”
Lu yanked the phone out of my hand.
“What did the fortune say, Theo? Life as you know it will end on your fourteenth birthday. If something happens to your father, to your parents, life as you know it will definitely change.”
“Yeah, and what was the last word?” I asked, leaning into Lu to get to the phone.
“Humility,” Theo said.
“Exactly!” I exclaimed. “Humility. It’s not about you, T. We’ve been so focused on you, we never thought of who else might be affected by that fortune.”
Theo didn’t say anything right away. I knew he was tugging on his ear, thinking. Calculating.
“Where are they?” he finally asked.
“They went to a diner for breakfast after church,” Lu replied.
“The Silver Star,” Theo said, suddenly all business. He had clicked into Theo-logical mode. “It’s about a half mile from Saint Paul’s. We always walk there after Mass. They’ll be headed back to the church to pick up the car.”
“So we can get to them at the church?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Theo said. “But what are we gonna tell them?”
“Who cares?” I yelled. “Let’s make sure they’re safe first.”
“We’re at your house, Theo,” Lu said. “Harry’s here too. We’ll get him to drive us to the church.”
“I’ll go straight there with Joe,” Theo said. “We’re still way out at the airport. You’ll get there before I will.”
“We’re leaving right now,” I said.
“Marcus? We can’t let this fortune come true,” Theo said, his voice cracking with emotion.
“We won’t,” I said with false bravado. “Go!”
I took the phone and ended the call.
“What’re we gonna say to Harry?” Lu asked.
“We’ll tell him we need a ride to church.”
THE THROATY GROWL OF the powerful car engine was a rude disruption to the quiet suburban morning. The Corvette Stingray pulled into the school parking lot and rolled all the way to the far end, where the group of teens stood waiting. It stopped with its nose only a few inches from the grille of the black Mustang, intruding on its space. Menacing.
The kids stood around, most with their arms folded, trying to look badass. The driver killed the engine, and the neighborhood went eerily silent.
The driver’s door of the Corvette opened, and a kid not much older than sixteen popped out. He had a thick shock of neon-orange-dyed hair that stood up on his head like he’d been hit with a solid jolt of electricity. Though it was chilly, he only wore an age-faded black AC/DC T-shirt and jeans. He shot up out of the car with so much energy it was like he’d just pounded down a gallon of coffee followed by a liter of Mountain Dew. His jaw was constantly working on a wad of gum.
“Yeah yeah!” he shouted exuberantly. “Didn’t think you clowns would show!”
“You’re calling us clowns, with that hair?” the kid with the hoodie said, scoffing.
The group of teens stared back at the new arrival intently, as if trying to intimidate him. Or to prove his crazy attitude wasn’t threatening them.
“You’re late,” the blond kid said. “Street’s gonna get real busy real soon.”
“Won’t matter,” the wild-eyed kid said. “This won’t take long. Where’s your driver?”
The girl with the purple streak in her dark hair stepped forward.
“Does your daddy know you took his car?” she asked.
The orange-haired, wild-eyed kid furiously worked his gum, glanced down at his ’Vette, and laughed.
“Ooh, disrespect!” he exclaimed. “From a girl with a grandma ride.”
A few of the kids chuckled but quickly stifled themselves.
“It’s not about the ride—it’s about guts,” the girl said.
The wild guy gave her a big Joker-like grin. “Yeah yeah. Let’s find out who’s got ’em.”
The two stared each other down. The girl was laser-focused; the guy looked ready to burst out laughing.
“Start right here,” the blond kid said. “Side by side. Take it to the far end of the parking lot. Straight-ahead sprint. Turn right onto the road. That’s your track. From there keep making left turns until you do a full circle. Finish line is the entrance to the parking lot.”
“I know the course,” the wild-eyed guy said.
“So do I,” the girl added.
“Then let’s fly!” the orange-haired kid exclaimed with a giddy laugh.
The kids all whooped and cheered, forgetting how annoyed they were at having had to get up so early on a cold Sunday morning.
The Mustang was already in position. It was backed against a fence with its nose pointed toward the hundred-yard stretch of empty parking lot. The orange-haired kid ducked back into his Corvette and gunned the engine to impress (or intimidate) the others. He backed up, swung the car around, and eased into position next to the Mustang.
The girl fired up her engine. Its deep roar matched that of the ’Vette. These were two very powerful, very fast muscle cars. They couldn’t idle there much longer or the sound would surely wake the neighbors. This was a quiet neighborhood…
…that wouldn’t be quiet much longer.
The cars sat side by side, rumbling, aching to launch and run.
Two beautiful machines.
A jet-black Mustang.
And a fire-engine-red Corvette.
“Can you go a little faster?” I asked Harry. Pleaded, actually.
“What’s the hurry?” he asked.
“It’s cold,” Lu said. “Maybe we’ll see them walking back from the diner. We can give them a ride.”
I was sitting in the passenger seat, and Lu was in the back. Harry turned around and gave her a confused look.
“They make that walk in a foot of snow,” he said. “A little cold won’t kill ’em.”
“Let’s hope not,” I said. “Hurry, please.”
All I wanted to do was get to the McLeans and surround them in some kind of protective cocoon. Between me and Lu and Theo and Theo’s two brothers, we’d make sure that nothing happened to them. I kept telling myself we had control. The future wasn’t set. That’s not how life worked. But we had the advantage of knowing what might happen. Sort of.
It was a gift from the Oracle Baz. We couldn’t waste it.
MR. AND MRS. MCLEAN finished their breakfast, paid the bill, bundled up, and left the Silver Star diner for the half-mile walk back to Saint Paul’s Church. It was a pleasant walk along suburban sidewalks that they’d made a hundred times before…a tradition they had started long before their boys were born.
The wind kicked up, sending a blast of cold air their way. The two had to lean against each other for fear of getting knocked sideways.
“Whoa!” Mr. McLean exclaimed. “Where did that come from?”
He put his arm around his wife to ward off the piercing cold blast.
“I don’t like this,” Mrs. McLean said. “It’s dangerous to be flying around in a helicopter with this wind.”
“I hear you,” Mr. McLean said. “Russell knows what he’s doing. If it’s too risky, he won’t go up.”
“Would you please call?” Mrs. McLean asked. “I want to know they’re safe.”
“We’ll call from the car. I don’t want to be out in this wind either.”
They trudged on, bundled against the cold, holding tight to one another to stay warm as they made their way back to the church.
IN THE SCHOOL PARKING lot a quarter mile from Saint Paul’s Church, the two cars sat next to one another, their engines revving.
The orange-haired kid behind the wheel of the red Corvette waved playfully to the girl in the black Mustang. “Yeah yeah!” he exclaimed with a wild laugh.
The girl ignored him. One hand gripped the wheel, the other the gearshift. She was focused and ready to go.
Most of the other kids had run to the entrance of the parking lot. Their job was to stop any car that might be coming their way as the racers turned onto the street. It was the only safety precaution planned. Once the racers were on the course, they were on their own.
The blond kid stood five yards in front of the two cars. He looked to the ’Vette and put his hand to his ear.
The Corvette’s driver responded by revving his engine.
The blond kid gave him a thumbs-up, then looked to his friend behind the wheel of the Mustang. He made the same motion.
The girl pumped her gas. Her engine roared.
She too got a thumbs-up. The blond kid stood with his arms at his sides. Slowly, he raised them both until his hands were directly overhead.
The drivers gunned their engines again.
They were ready.
It was on.
The blond kid hesitated for a long two seconds and…
“Go!” he shouted, and dropped both arms.
The drivers jammed their gas pedals to the floor and released their clutches. With a squeal of rubber on blacktop, the cars lurched forward, shooting by the blond kid who stood stock-still for fear of getting run over. He was quickly enveloped in a cloud of pungent smoke from burned rubber. Once the cars sped by him, he spun to watch as the two vehicles screamed away, side by side, each gunning to be the first out of the parking lot.
The Mustang was on the right, the same direction they would have to turn. If they hit the exit at the same time, one of them would have to back off and let the other go first, or it would be a violent end to a very short race.
The other kids stood on the street, cheering the drivers on.
The cars accelerated toward the exit, neck and neck.
Somebody had to blink.
It wasn’t the kid in the Corvette. With a maniacal laugh, he spun the steering wheel and made the turn without slowing or downshifting.
The girl in the Mustang had no choice but to hit the brakes. She slowed, and the Corvette shot across her front grille, headed out onto the road.
The tone was set and the race was on.
Most everyone who lived nearby in the quiet neighborhood had no idea of what was happening on their streets. Some might have heard distant squeals or engine sounds, but none paid attention. Most were still in bed asleep. It was the exact reason why these kids had chosen this course. They’d scouted it. They knew it was not only a perfect mile-long course that was easy to follow, but the chances of anybody getting in their way were slim to none because of the hour and the quiet time between early-morning Masses.
They had the course to themselves.
Except for the couple who were walking toward the racecourse, huddled together, bundled against the cold, with no idea of what was headed their way.