The four of us jogged to the crippled Oldsmobile, while other vehicles continued to zoom by on the westward interstate.
“Now what?” I asked Tina. “You got a car to stop, but it only has three tires. That’s not going to get us to Mount Rushmore very fast.”
“It’ll have a spare,” Tina said. “Cars always have spare tires. We’ll help put it on, and in exchange for our good deed, the nice driver will give us a ride west.”
It would have been a good plan, but we quickly learned that the driver was not nice. Nor did he have a spare tire. Nor was he interested in giving us a ride anywhere.
“Ahoy, ye little scallywags!” shouted the man, as soon as we drew close. He was standing beside the blown-out tire, one hand on his bony hip, the other tracing through his stringy hair. His pants were a bit too short, his shirt a bit too long, and the expression on his face a bit too ornery. And for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why the man was talking like a pirate.
“It be yer fault fer standin’ around on the highway like vultures! Ye be causing me to swerve and wreck me tires.” The man was ranting, his angular face sneering at the four of us. “Look what ye’ve done to me carrrrr!”
Looking through the back window of the car, I saw a kid in the passenger seat. He looked a little younger than me—maybe ten or eleven.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Tina began. “We’d be happy to help you put on the spare.”
“There be no more spares in this here vessel!” shouted the driver. “The tire that blew? That was the spare!”
I sighed. Tina had gotten us into a mess by making a tricky wish. Now she would scream whenever she sat down, and it would be for nothing, since the angry driver couldn’t take us anywhere.
I quietly backed up until I was right beside my genie. “Ridge,” I whispered. “I wish I had a spare tire for this car.”
My hourglass watch clicked out, and I casually held it behind my back to conceal it from the man, although Ridge had explained that the Universe would shield our magic from suspicion.
“You can have the tire,” said Ridge, “but for the rest of the week, you’ll have to salute every time you see a white car.”
“Salute?” I asked.
In response, Ridge clicked his feet together and raised a stiff hand to his eyebrow in a classic military salute.
“What if I forget to do that?” I asked.
“You won’t,” he answered. “It’ll be like Tina’s scream. If you accept the consequence, the Universe will make sure you salute. You won’t even be able to control it. It’ll be a reflex.”
I nodded to show I understood. Saluting white cars wouldn’t be too bad. I was about to accept the consequence when Ridge decided to add a little hypothetical situation.
“What if you find yourself dangling from a branch over a pool of alligators in the jungle. One arm is broken, but the other is clinging for dear life. Then a white car drives by, and the Universe forces you to salute, causing you to fall to your death.”
“There are so many things wrong with that example, I don’t even know where to begin,” I said. “Why would there be a branch dangling over a pool of alligators? And how could a white car drive by if I’m in the middle of the jungle?”
Ridge shrugged. “I’m just talking it through with you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
I took a quick peek at my hourglass and barely hissed out, “Bazang!” before the sands expired.
Instantly, I felt a huge weight fill my backpack. Such a large weight that I was thrown backward and pinned to the ground. My backpack also ripped, and smashed peanut butter sandwiches flew everywhere.
“Why did the spare tire appear in my backpack?” I asked, slipping out of the straps and leaving my ruined pack in the roadside dirt.
Ridge shrugged. “You should probably be glad it didn’t show up in your pocket.”
A short distance away, Tina was arguing loudly with the angry driver, and I saw the boy inside the car watching with intensity.
“I only offered to help,” Tina was saying. “You don’t have to be so rude about it!”
“Yar!” cried the stranger. “When I was a lad I spoke with respect to me superiors! Yer motley crew can walk to the grave and I’d sing a serenade as ye go!”
“Excuse me,” I said, walking over to them. But the heated argument would not be so easily interrupted.
“Looks like you’ll be walking with us!” Tina retorted. She pointed inside the car. “What kind of father drives his kid clear out here without a spare tire for emergencies?”
“Don’t ye be speakin’ to me son!” said the driver, putting his hand over the window to block the boy’s view. “We be two birds of a feather.”
“Excuse me!” I shouted, stepping between Tina and the pirate speaker. “I happen to have a spare tire.”
“You do?” Tina asked.
“Ye do?” asked the man.
I pointed to my ripped backpack in the dirt, surrounded by peanut butter sandwiches. “It would be crazy to leave home without one,” I said. Ridge was pulling the spare out of the pack and trying to tip it upright with all his strength. “We’d be happy to put it on your car, if you could give us a lift.”
The strange man paused in thought for a moment. “Where be ye headed?”
“Mount Rushmore,” I said, pointing west. “Or as far as you’ll take us.”
“A popular destination,” answered the man. “Ye have yerself a deal.”
I looked back at Ridge, who had finally managed to tip up the tire, only to have it roll down the roadside. Luckily, Vale moved in, halting the runaway spare with her foot.
It would have been easier if Tina or I had wished the tire on, but we were being stubborn again, both feeling like our latest consequences were in vain.
If you had been the driver, you would have been grateful for our help. You might have even thought we were guardian angels, waiting on the roadside with a perfect spare tire in a backpack, ready to install it and send you on your way. You certainly would have helped us install the tire.
But not this guy. He stood by, arms folded, and watched four kids figure out how to install a spare tire. My skin crawled under his stare. It was almost like his eyeballs could shoot little invisible darts that made me feel worthless.
Twice during the gritty work, I stopped to salute a passing white car. It was the strangest sensation to lose control over my body. Just as Ridge had described it, the gesture was completely automatic. One moment, I was down on my knees in the gravel, the next moment, I was leaping up, my heels clicking together and my hand jetting up to my brow.
“That should do it,” said Tina, stepping back from the tire. Her hands were completely black and her face was smudged from where she’d brushed at the sweat.
I looked up, hoping to finally get the thanks and acknowledgment we deserved for our good service. The man was nowhere in sight. I glanced into the car and saw the back of his greasy head just settling into the driver’s seat.
With a few cranks, the car turned on. I reached for the handle on the back door, but before my fingers made contact, the man sped away, his new tire kicking up rocks and dirt on us.
I heard him laugh as he merged onto the freeway. His window was down and he reached out one bony arm, shaking his fist as he taunted. “Yar! That’ll teach ye! The world is full of suckerfish! Maybe next time ye won’t be one!”