بگو سیب و بمیر فصل 10

Say Cheese and Die! - Chapter 10

“It’s so easy to drive,” Mr. Banks said, accelerating onto the entry ramp to the freeway. “It handles like a small car, not like a station wagon.”

“Plenty of room back here, Dad,” Terry said, scooting low in the backseat beside Greg, raising his knees to the back of the front seat.

“Hey, look—there’s a drink holder that pulls out from the dash!” Greg’s mother exclaimed. “That’s neat.”

“Awesome, Mom,” Terry said sarcastically.

“Well, we never had a drink holder before,” Mrs. Banks replied. She turned back to the two boys. “Are your seat belts buckled? Do they work properly?”

“Yeah. They’re okay,” Terry replied.

“They checked them at the showroom before I took the car,” Mr. Banks said, signaling to move into the left lane.

A truck roared by, spitting a cloud of exhaust behind it. Greg stared out the front window. His door window was still covered by the new-car sticker.

Mr. Banks pulled off the freeway onto a nearly empty four-lane highway that curved toward the west. The setting sun was a red ball low on the horizon in a charcoal-gray sky.

“Put the pedal to the metal, Dad,” Terry urged, sitting up and leaning forward. “Let’s see what this car can do.”

Mr. Banks obediently pressed his foot on the accelerator. “The cruising speed seems to be about sixty,” he said.

“Slow down,” Mrs. Banks scolded. “You know the speed limit is fifty-five.”

“I’m just testing it,” Greg’s dad said defensively. “You know. Making sure the transmission doesn’t slip or anything.”

Greg stared at the glowing speedometer. They were doing seventy now.

“Slow down. I mean it,” Mrs. Banks insisted. “You’re acting like a crazy teenager.”

“That’s me!” Mr. Banks replied, laughing. “This is awesome !” he said, imitating Terry, ignoring his wife’s pleas to slow down.

They roared past a couple of small cars in the right lane. Headlights of cars moving toward them were a bright white blur in the darkening evening.

“Hey, Greg, you’ve been awfully quiet,” his mother said. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay,” Greg said softly.

He wished his dad would slow down. He was doing seventy-five now.

“What do you think, Greg?” Mr. Banks asked, steering with his left hand as his right hand searched the dashboard. “Where’s the light switch? I should turn on my headlights.”

“The car’s great,” Greg replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. But he couldn’t shake away the fear, couldn’t get the photo of the mangled car out of his mind.

“Where’s that stupid light switch? It’s got to be here somewhere,” Mr. Banks said.

As he glanced down at the unfamiliar dashboard, the station wagon swerved to the left.

“Dad—look out for that truck!” Greg screamed.