Theo Porter had just rounded the curve by City-on-the-Berme Park—that sharp turn with all the woods and the steep slope down to the lakeshore—when bam! Two baby raccoons came scuttling through the fog and into his headlights.
Theo hit the brakes and yanked the steering wheel left. The two raccoons had frozen, their eyes latched onto his low beams.
A sharp squeal across the pavement. Then a thump as he left the road, crunched onto grass and underbrush, and finally crashed sharply into a witch hazel. (He recognized those red and yellow leaves from botany class—a deeply unuseful fact right about now.)
"No, no, no," he breathed to himself, heart hammering. In the dim red glow of his brake lights, he couldn't see if the raccoons had made it to the other side of the road. In the much brighter glow of his headlights, he could definitely see his Honda Civic had not.
Three summers of working had bought him this Silver Sweetheart. Now she was scratched and dented, but he prayed at least able to get back onto the road.
He wanted to rewind time by ten seconds. He wanted to shout at the raccoons for trying to cross the street right then—he hadn't seen them in all this fog. And he wanted to shout at himself for caring so much that he'd driven off the road to avoid them.
He could not afford a mechanic's bill right now.
"Come on," he murmured, shifting into reverse. "You can do it, Sweetheart." He eased his foot on the gas.
The Civic rolled back. Back some more. Then spun out.
Theo released the pedal. Digging the wheels in was only going to make this worse, and he absolutely could not afford a tow truck on top of everything else. He flicked on his emergency lights. There were no streetlights around, and the sun had long since dropped behind the lake. Each flash of orange revealed white fog and more white fog.
With a groan, Theo kicked open the car door. His Nokia buzzed in his jeans pocket, but he ignored it. It was probably just Davis wondering where the beer was.
Ever since the fall semester had begun, Theo had become official booze runner for the Allard Fortin Preparatory School. He'd set up a sweet deal with the dude at RaceTrac. In exchange for twenty bucks, that dude would pretend Theo's license didn't say 1982 and that the math didn't make Theo only seventeen in this year of 1999. Six cases of Natty Lite later, Theo would drive the beer to campus, sell them to his fellow Fortin Prep students at an upcharge of a dollar a can, and then pocket the difference in the envelope under his mattress. So far, he'd made almost a thousand bucks.
A thousand bucks he was now going to have to eat into if he wanted to get his car fixed.
Theo stepped around to the front of the Honda. The hood was dented, although not as badly as he'd feared. The bumper and grille were only moderately busted. So . . . yay?
He scowled at the witch hazel, which was barely scratched at all. Then he scowled in the general direction of the raccoons too, although they were long gone.
And honestly, he was glad he hadn't hit them.
Theo's breath plumed, tendrils of steam that glowed in his headlights. He was going to have to get some branches to wedge under the tires.
Fortunately, there were plenty of branches to be found. Evergreens and autumn hardwoods spanned for miles in the county park here.
As Theo scanned what little forest he could see through all that fog and shadow, he regretted not keeping a flashlight in his car. Or a jacket.
He set off into the forest. His sneakers crunched over the first downfall of autumn leaves. In seconds, the fog and trees swallowed him. The last of his Silver Sweetheart's light faded, while a rotten smell gathered around him. As if maybe some other raccoons hadn't been so lucky when they'd crossed the road.
YOU ARE READING
The Executioners Three
Teen Fiction*A Wattpad Editor's Choice* Freddie kissed him again. He groaned and pressed into it. Deepened it immediately, kissing her so hard, she thought he might draw blood. She liked it. But then he was pulling away. Backing away three steps, and freezing...
