THURSDAY 4:15PM
The truck straddled the painted white line, taking up two spaces in the Student Center parking lot, its menacing silver grill daring anyone to object. And what a magnificent truck it was: a gleaming black F-250 with a King Cab, tinted windows, skid plates, both the Off-Road and High-Capacity Towing packages, and an LED light bar. MSRP: $79,735. The truck and a no-show job were a gift to Rick from an alumnus and booster who owned the local Ford dealership.
The engine roared to life, its eight cylinders rattling like a machine gun. Tires squealed and students jumped out of the way as Rick turned left out of the lot and accelerated onto the street.
Vince flipped on the radio. A deafening blare of twangy pop country erupted from the truck’s six speakers.
Rick pointed at the stereo. “You want to turn that thing down?”
Vince dulled the noise.
“So, what’s the deal with you and that chick?”
Vince bit his lip. Rick was always on the lookout for some weakness to exploit or mock. “No deal. Miranda helps me with some papers for English.”
“No deal? Is that why you were mooning over her back at lunch?” Rick grinned wickedly. “Pretty sure there’s a little more than paper writing going on here.”
“I wasn’t mooning.” Vince jabbed his finger at Rick. “And Miranda’s nice.”
“Nice?” Rick shook his head in disgust. “God Almighty. We’re on the football team, and you want nice. We can have whoever we want, whatever we want, whenever we want. And you settle for nice.”
“What’s your point?”
“What’s your point?” Rick mimicked Vince in a high-pitched voice. “Hi, I’m Vince. Will you go out with me?” He contorted his face into an over-exaggerated frown.
“That’s not how I sound.”
Rick opened the center console, retrieved a can of beer, popped the top, and took a swig. “No, dude, that’s exactly how you sound. Quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. I say this not only as a teammate, but as your friend.”
Vince scowled. Some friend. “Do you know anything about Miranda’s boyfriend? Maybe you could ask your sister to find out?”
“Jesus H. Christ! Will you listen to yourself? This is not high school.” Steering with his knee, Rick pulled out his phone and texted, eyes flicking between the screen and the road. “Fortunately, I have the cure for what ails you.”
“And what crazy idea is that?”
“I know a girl. She is crazy, plus a lot of other things. I’m delighted to say she’s definitely not nice. And she’s got a friend. For your sake, I hope she’s also—”
Rick’s phone chirped. He glanced at the text and smiled. “You’re in luck. We’re going to pick them up.”
Without slowing, Rick spun the steering wheel. Tires screeched, and Vince’s momentum slammed him into the door. As Rick executed the U-turn in the middle of traffic, cars in both directions blew their horns, and angry drivers cursed him.
A five-minute drive took them to South Campus. Under the leafy green trees lining Harrison Street outside Marcy Hall, Rick pulled into a handicapped spot and texted: here
* * *
Priya Modi guided her white Audi Q5 down the street, careful to stay below the speed limit and watchful of pedestrians. She turned right at the corner onto Harrison and frowned. A black truck occupied the handicapped spot outside her dorm. The truck was comically oversized; it looked like it could be responsible for climate change all by itself.
Priya let out a long, weary breath. The college really needed to add more handicapped spots. She contemplated the close to half mile walk from the parking garage back to her dorm and absentmindedly reached down and ran her hand across the ceramic prosthetic extending beneath her left knee.
As her car crept closer to the truck, she noticed the license plate was standard. She squinted but didn’t see a placard hanging from the mirror, and the driver was still in the truck. Her resignation turned to anger. She pulled up to within ten feet and leaned on the horn.
The driver of the truck rolled down his window, stuck out his arm, and made a motion for Priya to pass by. She kept leaning on the horn. The driver hopped out of the truck, a beer can in his hand, and swaggered toward her car. Big guy with a neck like a tree trunk. Probably some kind of athlete, which would explain why he was acting like a jerk.
He stopped at the driver’s door, trying to peer through the Audi’s tinted glass. She rolled down her window.
The jerk spread his arms wide. “There’s plenty of room. Go on by.”
“You’re in my parking spot.” Priya pointed at the truck.
“Your spot?” He laughed. “I don’t see your name on it.”
“It’s right here, you Neanderthal.” She tapped the blue-and-white handicapped placard hanging from her rearview mirror.
“What’s your handicap? You look okay to me.”
Priya was stunned. She didn’t have a response. She couldn’t believe this colossal idiot was arguing over her rightful parking space.
The jerk jabbed his finger at her. “Did your foot-doctor daddy forge your application for handicapped access in between submitting phony claims to Medicare?”
Priya wouldn’t dignify this cretin with an answer. She was glad she hadn’t said anything before. She raised the window and leaned on the horn.
The skies darkened. A few raindrops splattered on the windshield.
He leaned against the Audi, crossed his arms, and shouted. “Keep at it! The more you honk, the longer I’m going to stay in that spot!”
“We’ll see what the school police have to say about this.” Priya tapped the phone mounted on her dashboard, snapped video of the truck, then angled the phone at Rick. She touched the controls on the steering wheel.
First, the Audi's speakers rang, then a female voice answered, “Van Buren University Campus Police.”
“Hi, I’m at Marcy Hall, and there’s a black truck parked illegally in the handicapped spot.”
“Let me check if there’s an officer in the area.”
A blonde and a brunette exited the dorm and approached the truck. The blonde, wearing a white tee and jeans, waved at the jerk.
“You’re in luck!” he shouted through the closed window. “We’re out of here.” He guzzled the rest of the beer, crushed the can, and dropped it on the hood of the Audi.
“Hold on, I think the truck is leaving.” Priya leaned on the horn again.
* * *
With deliberate slowness, Rick walked back to the truck, gave the blonde a quick embrace, and climbed into the driver’s seat. The girls slid in the back, the blonde behind Rick and the brunette behind Vince.
“Glad you could make it, ladies.” Rick reached into the console for two more beers, passing them back. “Enjoy.” He gunned the engine, a puff of black exhaust enveloping the Audi, screeched tires, and pulled into the street.
“Brianna,” Rick addressed the blonde sitting behind him. “Introduce me to your friend.”
“I’m Jackie.” She wore a lavender sweatshirt with an embroidered unicorn and her hair in a high ponytail.
“Brianna, Jackie. In the passenger seat is Van Buren’s starting tight end, Vince Murphy.”
Vince turned in his seat. “Hi Brianna, Jackie. Nice to meet you.”
Rick silently mouthed ‘Nice to meet you’ and cringed.
The rain fell harder.
“Where are we going?” Briana rested her head against the window.
“It’s a beautiful thing.” Rick shifted gears. “Wherever we are, that’s where the party is.”
Jackie leaned forward. “Can you be a little more specific?”
“Ah, an intellectual.” Rick guffawed. “Brianna warned me you were smart like that.”
“What did you get me into?” Jackie whispered to Brianna.
“Relax.” She leaned close so the boys couldn’t hear. “I can handle Rick.”
Rick tapped the steering wheel. “We’re going to Engine Eighty-Nine. It’s a bar off Wolfe on the far side of town. Hot food. Cold drafts. Good tunes. And plenty of room to dance.”
“I don’t have ID.” Jackie threw herself back in the seat.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re with us. The owner is a big football fan. Another perk of being on the team. No one will hassle us.”
They were off campus now, on a two-lane road, passing farms, heading toward town. Thick clouds obscured the mountains. The sky was almost black. Sheets of rain pelted the windshield. Rick flipped the wipers to maximum speed. Visibility was close to zero.
“Maybe you should slow down.” Jackie pulled the seatbelt shoulder strap across her body and buckled in.
Rick heard the click. “Scared? You have to push through. Fear is a barrier to success. Like weakness. Coach explained it to us.”
“Sounds like warmed-over pop psychology to me,” Jackie said.
Brianna glared at her. “What are you doing?”
Rick raised his voice. “Who invited you anyway?”
“Back off, Rick.” Vince put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The lady is entitled to her opinion.”
“Yeah,” Jackie crossed her arms. “I’m entitled to my opinion that you should really slow down.”
“Brianna?” Rick made eye contact with her in the rearview mirror.
“Better safe than sorry. I vote we slow down.”
Rick erupted in laughter. “Fortunately, this truck is not a democracy, and we’re not ruled by timid girls.” He stepped on the accelerator, and the truck lurched forward.
A bolt of lightning flashed to their right, striking an empty field. A cacophony of thunder engulfed them a moment later.
“Three thousand feet!” Jackie yelled.
“What?” Vince turned to look at her.
“That last bolt struck three thousand feet away.”
“How can you tell?”
“I counted. Three seconds between the flash and the thunder. Sound travels at a little over a thousand feet per second in the air. That’s about three thousand feet or three-fifths of a mile.”
“Jackie, are you some kind of science nerd?” Rick growled.
“No, just curious about things.”
Vince faced the backseat. “What’s your major, Jackie?”
Rick moaned and grabbed another beer. “We can’t get to the bar fast enough.”
“Look out!” Brianna screamed.
A set of headlights on the wrong side of the road bore down on the truck.
Rick slammed on the brakes. Brianna reached for her seatbelt. Jackie shut her eyes. Vince braced himself against the dashboard. Rick spun the wheel hard to the right, sending the truck into a sideways skid. The oncoming tractor-trailer clipped the Ford, sending it careening off the road, where it slammed into a telephone pole, coming to rest on its side in a ditch.
As the eighteen-wheeler continued on its way, the wind and the roar of thunder drowned out the blaring of the Ford’s horn.