Roland’s POV
The two of them talked nonstop the entire time. My heart pounded in my chest as I followed five paces behind him.
I didn’t like surprises. My dad’s death was a surprise, my mom’s death was a surprise, my first foster home was a constant surprise, getting moved every few months became surprising until I got used to the pattern. Surprises were never a good thing.
“Okay Roland we’re getting close,” Mary said, her smile still not dipping. “Would you be comfortable closing your eyes?”
Blood loss. Infection. Car crash. Brain tumor.
“What’s happening,” I whispered, trying to keep my heartbeat at a steady rhythm to fight off the panic that will surely set in soon.
“We’re taking you to the surprise,” Andrew said, his voice becoming more calm but the excitement still hid in his voice.
“I did the homework,” I said as my hands began to shake. I force them it balls at my side, my nails digging into my palms.
Drowning. Starvation. Heart failure. Snake bite.
“I started talking to Andrew.”
Infection. Malpractice. Stab wound. Heart attack.
“That was the deal. That’s what you told me to do.” I stop walking. “You can’t make me leave. I won’t go back to foster care. I’ll run away again and if you send me to jail…” I didn’t know what I’d do if they sent me to jail but I’d think of something to make them regret it. Andrew cut me off before I could finish coming up with my threat.
“Oh honey,” Mary said, her smile rapidly draining from her face as she took a step closer. I take one back to keep the distance. “It’s nothing like that. I promise. We legally have to give you a 30 day notice before we move you so you can notify anyone you wish to know since you still are a minor. And just like you said, you’re following the rules, you’re doing everything right. You aren’t going anywhere unless you tell us you want to be transferred.”
I don’t believe her so I look to Andrew. His smile is gone now too.
“We found you a car to work on. It’s parked by the front office, under the streetlight out there in the gravel. It’s a 2008 Jeep Wrangler, you can barely move the steering wheel even when the car is in drive and the previous owner said before that it shook uncontrollably.”
I stare at both of them for a while, I was never good at telling if people are lying but both of them didn’t seem guilty.
“You promise?”
“I promise Roland,” Mary said, her voice sounds so genuine. “I will never lie to you. You aren’t leaving camp today. We will give you a 30 day notice if that changes. And until you change your mind about being here I will do everything in my power to keep you in this camp.”
My heart was still pounding and my nails didn’t move from my palms but I nod anyway as I follow them.
Both of their moods significantly damped after that as they whispered to each other but before long we were standing in front of the office, a black wrangler sitting exactly where they said under the streetlight.
My heart still didn’t ease but I did force my nails away from my hands.
“You said the steering locked up when driving,” I asked as I walked to the car. I don’t wait for a response as I open the door and pop the hood. My eyes scanned the engine of the car that seemed normal before moving to the belt which was a little worn but nothing enough to cause concern.
“Yea and before that it was wobbling real bad. Are they connected?” I shook my head.
“No, wranglers are prone to wobbling. They call it a death wobble, the front axles aren’t good at not rubbing against the router which grinds them both down until it shakes like that. The steering is probably the power steering gone out. It’s also a common problem. People think these cars are invincible so they treat them like shit and then get surprised when they break. Idiots.”
“You looked at it for three seconds and you already know what’s wrong with it,” Mary said with a sigh. “I don’t know anything about cars. I thought this was going to be a bit more of a challenge.”
“Technically I didn’t have to look at it to know that,” I mumbled as I took the dip stick out to check the oil. It was black, far too old. I can’t even start the car until I drain the old stuff or I’ll end up damaging the perfectly good engine. “I need two gallons oil, mid grade, a new axel and router for the death wobble. As for the steering there’s a lot of reasons why that went out. Low fluid, broken lines, loss of power so bad wires. I’ll need to get a closer look for that part.”
“How much is all of that going to cost?”
“Hard to say,” I mumbled as I looked at the battery, it was new, they must have thought the power steering was powered by the battery. “I don’t know much about the shops up here, some try to upscale their prices to make a bigger profit. A ma and pa shop would be the way to go if there’s any around here, if you sweet talk them they might even give you a deal.” I always hated that part. I wasn’t good at talking to people; that was always dad’s job. I tell him what’s wrong with car, he figures out what’s wrong with his, and then he’d go down and get both of our stuff at the same time. He tried making me go a few times but after I cost us a cheaper price one too many times he decided it was best to leave it alone.
“You’ll have to come with me to get the parts,” Mary said.
“Andrew can get them.” Tires were in good shape too. They put money into the car just not in the right places. On the bright side after it’s fixed we’ll get good profit off of it.
“I don’t know anything about cars either.”
“Really,” I asked, not being able to hide my surprise as I got down on my back and scooted under the car to look at the damage for the axles and hopefully find the power steering cords.
“Don’t seem so surprised.”
“We won’t make you were cuffs while you’re out but you will have to wear a shirt that has the camp name and phone number on it just as a safety measure,” Mary said calmly as if it would send me into another fit.
“In case I run again?”
“It’s happened before. Now we try to stop the problem before it has a chance to start.”
“I’m not going to run,” I said as I ran my fingers along the thinned out metal along the router. “I have to fix the car first. I don’t like doing the talking.”
“We won’t make you,” Andrew said, his voice light but that therapist tone of concern was still laced in.
“We’ll need to get a jack and a lug rip. I’d say rent it but it’d be cheaper in the long run, almost every car we get will need to use a jack, and break pads go out so fast in a lot cars along with a lot of important things being behind a tire. How much did you spend on this car?”
“8,000,” Mary said with a sigh. “We got a loan for it. Are we going to be able to pay that back by the end of all of this?”
“Damn,” I said with a wince. “You over paid for it but I can get the money back and then some. It won’t be as big of a profit but it’ll be enough. I’ll haggle the person next time when you bring me to them. People who are willing to sell their car because they don’t know to fix it can be fooled pretty easily. Say enough words, take the oil cap off and start the car, it’ll run like shit. Give them a decent offer when it sounds like that and they’ll gladly get rid of it. The next car will be better.”
“Don’t ahead of yourself here,” Mary said. “Just because we’re going to let you go pick out your car parts doesn’t mean we can let you go to someone’s house. As unfair as it is you are still a criminal in the eyes of the government.”
“I stole a pair of socks,” I scoffed. “Do you want a better profit on this next car or not? You need funding right?”
“We always need more funding,” Mary sighed.
“Then let me help that. I fix cars, sell them, keep just enough money to get my next car and the parts to fix it, you pocket the rest for whatever you need.”
“That’s child labor Roland. We can’t allow that.”
“Then pay me minimum wage. Just enough to keep it legal. I’m 16, it’ll work. Or do one better, say it’s for a class. High schools have trade programs some times. Tell them I’m taking shop or something for extra credit.”
“If you plan on giving us funding we will be paying you Roland, end of discussion,” Mary said firmly. “We’ll talk about these details later. For now rough estimate, how much to fix this car?”
“Ball park of 500, depending on how well Andrew can swoon someone.”
“Would it be better if we bought used parts?”
“Sure, if you want to possibly sell off a bad car that’ll break in three months. I don’t fix cars just to let them break a few months later. Might as well just not fix it to begin with.”
“How much do you think’ll you can get out of it?”
“Let me haggle and I can get 12,000. Post the ad for 15,000, I’ll say it was a pain in the ass to deal with, they’ll say I’m out of my mind if they know anything about cars, if we’re lucky they’ll be stupid and we can take all that but I even if they are smart I should be able to get at least the 12,000 or I won’t sell it.”
“You wanted more than a $4,000 profit?”
“It would have been nice wouldn’t it?”
“Why haven’t we been doing this for years,” Mary asked with a stressed sigh.
“Because if you do it wrong you can waste thousands of dollars in a car you can’t fix. Best way to waste your money is by making shit calls.”
“You only cuss when you’re fixing things,” Andrew said, that therapist voice still thick in his voice.
“Only time I’m allowed to.”
“Why?”
“Shit,” I spat, repeating the word I heard my father mumbled a thousand times before. Cut the wrong damn wire.
“Don’t let your mom hear you talk like that. She’ll kill both of us.”
“Why?”
“She wants you to be a gentleman, manners and kind words. Gentlemen don’t use words like that in front of women.”
“Why not?” I expect him to sigh or just not answer; that’s what mom would do when I start asking too many questions. But he doesn’t sigh, he looks up from his engine, a small smile on his lips, and answers.
“Because that’s the way it has to be. Remember this Roland, one day you’ll find a nice girl, you’ll marry her, she’ll be wrong about something but you can’t say that. Happy wife, happy life. Sometimes being wrong when you aren’t is for the best. That’s just the way it has to be, especially if she’s worth it.”
I didn’t like that answer. I liked being right. Why should I let her be right just because it would make her happy?
I don’t voice those thoughts. Instead, I turn back to part with a frown on my face.
“I won’t say shit in front of mama.”
“Because that’s the way it has to be. When can I go get my parts?”
Last updated December 30, 2023
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