31 - Part 2

I can't blame Clyde if he is mad, I thought to myself as peered back into the fridge for another look before yelling for help again. Ten bucks is a lot of money.  I could have missed one for him I guess, but he still woulda lost.
Making another attempt I called out, "Mooooomm! Where's the Oley!"
She yelled from somewhere out front, "Move something!"
She had shown her disapproval about Gabe asking me to play by staging a walkout soon after I had gathered the three dollars I needed to join in.  She was most likely out in the yard commiserating with Jeb's wife, Becky.
Taking her advice, I shifted a gallon of milk and found them stacked behind it. Grabbing three, I turned back just as Gabe barked out, "Hurry up! Let's finish this hand before the weekend's over."
Stepping up to the table, I set out the beers then plopped back in my seat.  I was discouraged that my position had not improved in the three minutes I had managed to stall.
Uggh, I thought and mentally prepared myself to lose the hand.
Gabe drew from the pile then discarded as did Clyde. Deciding that the card Clyde had laid down did me no good I also drew.
"Oh my gosh! I said out loud, casting aside my sad excuse for a poker face. I had drawn the ace of spades.  "Thirty one!" I yelled out and threw my cards down on the table.
"What!" Gabe snorted, reaching over to take my cards, inspecting them as if I were lying.
Jeb yelled out, "You lucky little pisser!" He slapped his cards down, glaring at me. "I had god damn thirty!"
Clyde added nothing and quietly set his cards down, folding his hands on the table, seemingly content to lose the game.
Jeb continued to grumble and moan, "damn kid," over and over, as Gabe gathered the cards, grumping like a spoiled toddler.
I hoped he now regretted asking me to play.  What he must have thought of as an easy three bucks was now well positioned to take his beer money.
Didn't think of that didja? I thought as he shuffled a few times then dealt to the three of us.
Responding to Jeb, I said, "That's what you get for spitting on me," then shot him a big toothy grin.
"Don't get smart,"  Gabe warned, then turned as mom came inside, banging the screen door open with her hip as she simultaneously filled her wine glass with a cheap bottle of red.  Becky followed, laughing at something mom had said. 
"Your kid's getting lucky," Jeb said and looked back at me with a frown to trump my last smile. 
"Humph," was all she uttered as she walked past, ignoring Gabe as she went around the table to sit at the couch.  I wondered if she thought ignoring what a dipstick Gabe was would somehow make him not so dip-sticky.
"Just plain old luck,"  Jeb said again.
Being picked on was something I used to.  I got picked on at school, Gabe and his friends picked on me, even Dad liked to pick, though he called them "jokes".  Following the natural order of the universe I picked on Todd.  It was generally not wise to "pick" up the food chain. 
       Being called "lucky" by Jeb though, that did not sit well with my already bruised sense of fairness.  It was not that I did not like Jeb.  For the most part he was all right, even when super drunk.  When he drank, he just got louder, had tendencies toward wearing loincloths, and would get all tender hearted. 
More than once I had been forced to endure close encounters with his beard when pulled into a bone cracking man hug. 
"You are a great kid!" he would say over and over as I was mashed into his unruly tangle of facial hair.  No one denied he needed serious work on his social skills, but all in all, he was not a bad guy.
Unfortunately, when he had drained just his first six pack he tended to pick. A yin and yang balancing act I guess. On some level I knew he did it because he liked me. He was a heck of a lot better than Gabe, who stormed around, slammed doors and generally acted like he wished Todd and I would slip down the drain the next time we took a bath.
But calling me lucky?  That was just one step over the line.  If I was "lucky" I would not be living in a s****y, crooked trailer tiptoeing around Gabe every day.  Lucky people did not get tormented by gangs of over sized jerks on the playground at school.  If luck was on my side, I would not be surrounded by stupid men who were too dull to realize they were being out-played by a thirteen-year-old.  If I were back east spending time with Scott and John, and not these cruddy old men, then Jeb would be allowed to call me lucky. 
As it was, I wasn't. Retribution was in order and I knew which button I wanted to push.  Every now and again, even I felt the need to nip at the heels of my antagonists.
About six months ago mom had asked Gabe to take Todd and I Christmas shopping.  Before her car had made the first turn of the driveway, Gabe had Jeb on the phone.
"All you have to do is drive them to a couple of stores," I heard him say.  Pause. "Cause I got a hangover and you owe me, that's why!" 
Negotiations ensued and before long Gabe was back in bed while we were on our way shopping in Jebs rusted out station wagon. 
Jeb carted Todd and I around to three different stores. We each managed to get a gift for Mom, something for one other, and, begrudgingly, something for Gabe. 
On the way home Jeb announced, "Gotta make a stop, guys."
Instead of turning down the back road that led home, he drove another hundred yards and pulled up to the local bar. 
Leaving the keys in the car so we could listen to music, Jeb ordered us to stay put.
"I'll only be gone for fifteen or twenty minutes," he suggested as he slammed the door, leaving us to our own devices.
We spent an eventful hour and half eating most of the candy we had bought for Gabe, chasing each other around the car until Todd threw up a bit, then wrestling in the back seat. 
When Jeb finally emerged from the bar he looked close to being huggy. 
Shuffling long ways round the car, he finally flopped in the passenger side door, slouched into the seat, and asked, "Chris, you wanna drive home?"
"What?!" I said from the back seat as I let Todd out of a very effective strangle-hold.
"Chris can't drive!" Todd coughed out and then asked, "Can he?" seeming as intrigued by the prospect as I was.
"Sure!" Jeb hollered.  "It's easy!!  Just push the gas n go.  I was driving the tractor on the farm when I was his age," he said with his arms extended  pretending to turn an over sized steering wheel.  He even made engine noises ("BRRRRRRR") then slapped the dash and called out, "Come on Chris!  Take me home!"   Evidently confident that all was in order, he leaned back to rest his head, closed his eyes, and began humming to himself.
Crawling over from the back, I landed in the middle of the bench seat and scooched over to position myself under the wheel.  Turning for guidance, I looked over at Jeb.  I watched as he hummed quietly, then pulled my gaze forward to the hand print left in the dust of the dashboard he had just smacked.
        Figuring I had all the tutoring I was gonna get I grabbed at the wheel and pulled.  Hovering eight inches from the seat back, spine rigid and hands gripping so hard they already hurt, I got myself positioned so that I could place both feet flat against the pedals. 
Reaching toward the key, I felt all grown up and pitifully small all in the same moment.  I turned the ignition and jammed the pedal to the floor at the same time.  The engine coughed then screamed, making my foot leap back off the pedal.
        Jeb's eyes shot open and shouted out, "WHOAH!"  Looking me up and down he said, "Now don't do that again!" then almost as an afterthought said, "Jesus! Relax!  You look like a monkey humping a football."  He tilted forward to remove his coat and tucked it behind me.  "There," he said, "Better?"
It no longer felt like I was fighting gravity to stay where I thought I should be.  I admitted, "Yeah, I think so."
"All right," he offered, "Here's the deal.  D is drive and R is reverse.  It's that simple."
"What about the breaks?" I asked.
"Use 'em," floated across the seat as he seemed to settle in for a nap.  We sat like that for a few seconds until Jeb tossed an arm out front of him.  Rolling his hand in the air impatiently he said, "Then lets go."
Drivers Ed completed, I turned back to Todd and asked, "You aren't gonna tell mom, are ya?"
Todd didn't answer the question, but offered a bit nervously, "Go slow."
Nodding in agreement I drug the handle to R to ease out of the parking space, then yanked it into D.  Lurching forward we left the parking lot and in a wide-arching turn, found our way on to the road.
"This is fun!" I said as Todd and I whooped in celebration of the accomplishment. 
We cruised down the backroads laughing and chatting, with Jeb occasionally reaching over to correct my course.
As we approached the last turn before home I was feeling confident.
"Driving is fun!" I said to no one in particular.
Todd suggested, "Can I do it too?!"
Jeb barked out, "Turn!!!"
The next few moments were a blur of confusion, dust clouds, and cussing. Gas was applied when there should have been braking, wheels spun on a gravel road, and then there was the sickening thud.  The unmistakeable sound of a car ending up somewhere it was not built to go.
The car ended on its side deep in a ditch. With my chest aching from banging into the steering wheel, I reflexively reached for the door handle and pushed but got nowhere.
Feeling trapped I heard whimpering from the back and screamed out,  "Todd! Are you dead?!?!" 
"Nope," said Jeb reaching over the seat and dragging Todd up by the collar, placing him back into his seat.  Once there Todd slid across the vinyl and banged into the door. 
"We are all FINE!" Jeb hollered trying to convincing himself more than us.  "Everyone, quit yer blubbering! Get out!" 
We slopped our way out of the passenger side of the car, struggling to open doors that were aimed towards the sky.  We then stood like forlorn castaways staring at our broken ship, just a scant mile from home. 
"I coulda gone straight," I mumbled, my eyes locked on the banged up car trying to shift any trouble I might be in as far away as possible.
Jeb looked up and took in the lay of the land as if seeing it for the first time. There were two ways to get home.  I had wanted to go straight and pass by the Carter household, not take the dirt road we were now stuck on.  I had been hoping that one of the Carter girls, Annette or Cindy, would catch a glimpse of me cruising down the road.  Both had found their boobies over the summer and from all I could gather driving seemed like a good step towards being introduced to them. 
"Well then why the hell didncha?!" Jeb asked.
"Cause you were making all sorts of noise about him having to turn!" Todd scolded him.
"Yeah...well.  "Jeb trailed off then seemed to decide that a change of course was in order and suggested, "We better see if we can get some help."
We slumped off down the road as Jeb said, "Let's just tell everyone I was driving, okay?" 
I felt as if I had been freed from death row.  The instant I realized that Todd was not crippled or dead all my thoughts had turned to my future as a legal driver.  Would anyone ever let me have a real drivers license since I had already wrecked a car?
My joy at being let off was short lived, when a minute later Annette and Cindy drove by with their dad.  I tried to hide how snotty and teary-eyed I must have looked but knew I failed.  I figured the next day's bus ride would be spent deflecting what they had seen.  It would be my first experience denying the truth of a weekend's activities.   Never a good way for a Monday to start. 
Though I told my buddy Thad about my adventure, who disregarded me until I drug him to the crash site and stuck his nose in the furrow left by the car bumper, I had not told my mom.  I had no clue if Gabe knew and didn't care. What I did know was that Jeb was keenly interested in keeping the whole mess a secret. 
        It was my turn to deal so as I scooped up the cards and began to shuffle.  I turned to Jeb with a big grin and said in an overly loud voice, "Hey mom, Jeb offered to give me driving lessons. Did I tell you that?"
Dismissing it with barely a hitch in her conversation with Becky, Mom said, "You're too young to drive," then continued ignoring us.
If Mom's reaction was subdued, Jeb's was exactly what I was aiming for.  
His eyes popped wide and his mouth tightened into a little circle as if about to whistle.  Just as quickly he washed his face of the expression and turned away ignoring me.
That'll shut him up,  I thought.
Now that Jeb was leaving me alone the game progressed quickly. 
The next hand went smoothly when after just two draws each, Gabe knocked and Jeb found his hand lacking.  Now out, and the chance at twelve bucks gone,  Jeb stood and began pacing between Gabe and I, perusing our hands and "ahhhing" at what we had been dealt. After two more hands we both managed to whittle our kitty down to one quarter each.
It was Gabe's turn to deal.  As he shuffled he looked at me and said, "You know you're not gonna win this, right?"
"Yep," was all I said.
"Even if you did that's my money you are playing with."
"I didn't steal it. This is my strawberry picking money." I threw out feeling myself getting angry. 
"I didn't say you stole it.  Just that it is mine.  Just like everything you have,"  he said while he grinned, at least grinned as much as his lumpy face would let him.
"Mom buys us our stuff, not you,"  I whispered, now wishing I was anywhere else and did not care about winning anymore.
Clyde sat quietly listening as he sipped at his beer, watching our back and forth like a tennis match. Jeb paced at the end of the table stopping only to bounce on the balls of his feet. 
I looked over at Clyde (just so I would not have to look at Gabe) and a small smile touched his lips for the first time that day.  He then winked at me so quickly I was not even sure it happened.  I had no idea if he was giving me a hard time or being nice, but either way it made me feel better.
"Can we finish this?" I asked.  "I wanna go play with Todd."
Gabe stopped shuffling, holding the cards still in defiance of my request, then quickly peeled off the last hand.  Three cards to each of us and one turned up for me to draw from.  
Eighteen, I thought.  I have eighteen. If I knock right after the draw he just has to throw down his cards. Pure chance but eighteen ain't bad.
"Draw." said Gabe.
I looked at him and smiled.
"Draw!" he said.
I lay my cards on the table as I slowly reached towards him and softly knocked. 
Gabe looked at my cards then leaned forward and threw his hand on top of the deck. 
Jeb yelled out, "Ya pisser! Ya little pisser.  With style too," shaking his head and laughing.  
Then Gabe spoke up as he reached out to grab the pile of ones in the center of the table.  "Mind if I borrow this?" he asked.  Then he added without turning his eyes from me, "You guys wanna go to the bar?  You can go play now, Chris."
Both men looked from Gabe to me as an awkward silence took over. 
Mom and Becky continued to chat in the background as Gabe said, "Well?"  turning to both of them.  They each mumbled that it sounded fine and all rose to turn towards the door. 
I stayed seated and watched them all walk out, Gabe acting is if I was no longer there. Mom and Becky noticed the shift and followed, trying to make sense of the day now that half the group seemed to be leaving.
I had no idea if Gabe was gonna give me any of the money I had won.  He had "borrowed" money in the past and sometimes I saw it again and sometimes I didn't. 
Probably get my three bucks back, I thought and then considered the price Gabe had paid for that twelve bucks.  I had seen the look on his friends faces when he took the pot for his own.  Messing with kids is fair game but if you are gambling there are rules.  The rules do not include taking what is not yours.
As I heard the van chug to life, I envisioned them all piling in to head to town.  Just then the screen door popped open and Clyde walked in.  He stopped just inside the room holding the flimsy door with his foot and said, "You..." then cleared his throat and started over. "You're kinda smart aren't cha?"
I looked at him, startled, and said nothing.
"I'm not picking," he said shaking his head, the brim of his ball cap slicing the air. "I mean it.  I can tell you are smart."
"I guess so," I offered.
"Well, Gabe ain't.  Don't let him get you down." He turned to leave and then as an afterthought said, "And he sucks at softball." He grinned at me, winked again, and walked out.  I heard the van door slam as the women came back in. 
"What are you smiling about, Chris?" Mom asked.
"Nothing." I said.  "I'm gonna go read my book."   
 

Author's Note

I am still rushing. Here is the "completion" of this story. I feel it still needs work but am ready to move on for now. I am open to all criticism.