Some Are Sicker Than Others (12 page)

“Yeah.”

“Alright, let’s do it.” He took the instruments, shoved them back in his pocket then grabbed Larry’s hand, and headed off across the road.

When they got back to the bus, Dave’s head was swimming. In fact, he was so loaded, it felt like his feet weren’t even touching the ground. He was floating—floating across the pavement, like one of those floats in the Macy’s Day parade. He felt fast, loose, free, and giddy, no twisting in his stomach, no pain in his knee. He could do anything. He could be anybody. Watch out motherfuckers, ‘cause he was coming, and he was about to turn this shit up a notch.

“Alright,” he said, as he moonwalked across the parking lot and hopped his way up the steps of the bus. “Let’s go girls. Vamonos!”

Most of the girls were still hanging out in the parking lot, twirling their hair, and playing with their cell phones.

“Come on,” Dave shouted down to them, his hands cupped around his mouth. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go! Chop, chop! I don’t got all damn day.”

The girls all just looked up at him with utter annoyance then rolled their eyes and flipped back their hair. They formed a line at the base of the steps and, one by one, climbed back on the bus. “That’s it,” Dave said, as they brushed by him, his eyes focused on the clefts of their butts. “One, two, four, eight…who do we appreciate?” He waited for the answer but no one said anything, so he decided to answer it himself: “Dave! Dave! Dave! Yeah! Whoohoo!” He raised his hand up to one of the players who just glared at it with a look of disgust. “Come on Lacy,” he said, acting offended. “Don’t leave me hanging girlfriend.”

“My name’s not Lacy, coach. It’s Virginia.”

“Oh shit, I knew that. Well gimme some skin anyway.”

Dave stretched his hand up even higher, but the girl just crinkled her nose and crossed her arms. “What’s the matter with you, coach? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just excited. This is a big game. It’s the biggest. The best. We’re gonna win. We’re gonna kill ‘em. We’re gonna squash ‘em. Right? Right?” He clenched his fist and started pounding it against the steering wheel. “Come on Lacy—I mean Virginia. Shit. Sorry. Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

The girl slowly uncrossed her arms and tentatively touched her hand up to Dave’s palm.

“Yeah!” Dave bellowed. “That’s the spirit! That’s what I like to fucking see! Way to go! Alright, keep it moving…one, two, Lacy, Jenny.”

He kept his hand up as the girls moved by him, getting dirty looks from most, but sympathy high fives from some. Once the last girl was on, he stood up, cupped his hands together, and shouted back to the rear of the bus: “Yo Sarah. You back there? Where you at girl?”

Sarah raised her hand and stood up slowly. “Uh…right here, coach.”

“Oh, there you are. Can you do a head count for me to make sure we’re not missing anybody?”

“Sure coach.” Sarah stood up and started counting, mumbling to herself as she pointed her finger in the air. “…eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Fourteen coach. Looks like we’re all here.”

“Alright. Good, great, grand, wonderful…hold on tight ‘cause here we fucking go!”

Dave spun around and jumped back behind the steering wheel, then cranked on the ignition and pulled the doors closed. “You ready?” he said, looking beside him at Larry who was sitting Indian style on the floor. The kid nodded. “Alright. Hold on. Here we go!”

Dave wrenched into first and slammed down the accelerator. The bus reared forward, fishtailing through the snow. He didn’t even bother to check in his rearview mirror. Just put the pedal to the metal and merged back onto the road. The girls in the back all began to cheer and whistle as a black cloud of exhaust plumed over the gas pumps.

“Alright, we’re really moving now,” he shouted down to Larry who had his pinky finger jammed up his left nostril. “Hey Larry, why don’t you play that song you like?”

“Weally?”

“Yeah, Come on…play it, play it, play it. I wanna hear it. It’s my favorite song now. Play it, play it, play it.”

“Okay.”

The kid reached forward and hit the play button then jumped to his feet and strapped on his air guitar. As the high-pitched vocals came howling out of the speakers, Dave began counting off the numbers on the speedometer. “Forty-five…fifty-five…sixty-five…seventy-five.” He turned around towards the back of the school bus, pumping his fist like he was at a horse race. “Seventy-five miles an hour everybody! Whoohoo!” His body seemed to shift with the turns in the highway as he slammed down the clutch and wrenched into second. He felt like Dale Earnhardt at the Daytona Five hundred going for the prestigious Harley J. Earl trophy.

“This old banana can really cook, can’t it Larry?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re really sailing now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“Whoohoo!”

“Whoohoo!” Larry started pounding his fists against the back of the seat cushions, drumming along to the beat of the song. He leaned over Dave and stuck his head out the window, his butt crack hanging out the back of his jean shorts. Dave laughed maniacally as he flipped on his high beams and pushed the pedal all the way down to the floorboard. “We’re gonna murder those little pukes, right?”

“Yeah!” Larry screamed out the window.

“We’re gonna kill ‘em, right?”

“Yeah!”

“We’re gonna destroy ‘em. We’re gonna show those stuck up mountain brats how we grow ‘em down in the ‘burbs. Right Larry? Right?”

“Right dad!” Larry pulled his head back in from the window then cranked up the volume as high as it would go. Then, he started shouting along to the song’s chorus, something about having a magic school bus.

“Hey,” Dave said, pointing at the stereo, his eyes enlarged to the size of grapefruits. “That’s what we have. We have a magic school bus.”

“Yeah, we sure do, daddy.”

“Yeah. Fucking magic school bus.” Dave nodded along, waiting for the chorus, then he joined in with Larry singing along to the magic school bus. “
Too much Magic Bus…Too much Magic Bus
.”

As Dave joined in, Larry raised his own volume, and started marching up and down the aisle like a midget Nazi. Even Sarah ran up to the front and joined in the mayhem, tugging at Dave’s sleeve, egging him on. “Coach! Coach!” she said, nearly screaming, a look of exhilaration in her young, wild eyes. “Stop it! You’re going to get us killed. Slow down.”

“Yeah Sarah. We’re really cooking now, aren’t we?
Too much Magic Bus…Too much Magic Bus
!”

“Whoohoo!” Larry added, now doing his own version of the funky chicken.

Dave looked down at the speedometer—they were almost up to eighty-five. He turned back towards Sarah—the girl was having so much fun that she was actually crying. “Yeah Sarah, that’s the spirit. Come on, give me a high five.” He lifted his hand up to the ceiling, but Sarah was too busy wiping the tears of joy from her eyes. “Come on Sarah,” he said. “Don’t leave me hanging. Slap me some skin. Give me five.”

Sarah just looked at him as if he was crazy. “Please coach, slow down. You’re going to get us all killed.”

“What?”

“I said, slow down. You’re going to get us all killed.”

Before Dave had a chance to process what she was saying, a swirl of red and blue lights caught his attention. What the fuck? He sat up and looked in the rearview mirror. Oh shit. There was a patrol car behind him blaring its siren. Was it for them? Were they trying to pull him over? Or were they just trying to get around?

He instinctively removed his foot from the accelerator and brought the bus down to fifty-five. “Come on, go around,” he mumbled, looking up in the rearview mirror, his heart thumping from the sheer adrenaline. “Don’t pull us over. Please God, I won’t ask for anything else, just go around.” But they didn’t go around—they stayed close behind him, the red and blue swirl reflecting in his mirror. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He started punching his fist against the steering wheel, his knuckles driving against the vinyl.

“What’s wrong daddy?”

“We’re being pulled over, Larry.”

“Weally? Where?” The kid spun around and glanced behind him then started to cheer when he heard the siren. “Oh wow! Look daddy, a cop car. Awesome daddy awesome.”

“No Larry, it is not awesome. It is definitely not awesome.”

Dave eased on the brake, put on his blinker, and slowly veered the bus off onto the shoulder.

“Do they have guns? Daddy, do you think they have guns?”

“God damnit Larry, just shut up and don’t say anything. If we’re lucky, they’ll probably just give us a warning.”

“I doubt it,” Sarah said, looking behind them, at the flash of blue and red shining through the back window.

“You can go back to your seat and sit your little ass down.”

“But coach, I’m—”

“Don’t argue with me, Sarah. Just do it. I’ll handle this.”

Sarah snarled and flipped her hair outward then strutted back to her seat and sat down.

Dave took a deep breath and waited for everyone to settle then cut the engine and peered out the back window. The lights were still going, but nothing was happening. No one was getting out. The cop was just sitting there. What the hell? What was he doing? Why wasn’t he getting out of the fucking car? No, no, wait a minute…he had to calm down…he had to get a hold of himself…everything was fine…nothing was wrong. He’d just explain to him that he was sorry he was speeding, but he was in a hurry because they had a big match tonight up in Estes Park…and they were already late by about thirty minutes and if they didn’t get there in time then they’d have to forfeit…and the girls worked too hard to just have to forfeit—hell, if they lost tonight, they’d lose their chance at a state playoff. He could appreciate that, couldn’t he? How sometimes you had to make sacrifices for the good of the children? Yeah, of course he could. Hell, the guy was probably a dad. He probably had a couple rug rats of his own. He knew how demanding they could be sometimes, but that’s why you did it, you did it for them. You sacrificed yourself for the good of your kids. You broke the law so that they could get what they want. Yeah. See? There was no need to worry. Everything was gonna be fine. Everything was gonna work out. He’d just write him a ticket, give him a stern warning, and send them off on their merry, little way.

“Alright.” Dave took a deep breath and pulled himself together then turned his attention to the rear of the bus. “Alright, everybody listen up.”

But, the girls didn’t look up. They weren’t paying any attention. They were too busy ogling the two officers now getting out of the patrol car. “Hey!” Dave shouted, clapping his hands together. “God damnit, listen up.” But, the girls still weren’t paying attention, so he put two fingers in his mouth and blew as hard as he could. The whistle was so deafening it caused the bus to immediately go still. “Alright you little brats, I want all of you to shut the fuck up and don’t say another fucking word. I’m going to take care of this.”

“
Oooohhhh
,” the girls all said in unison, as if that was the first time they’d ever heard him swear.

Dave straightened his collar and turned towards Larry. It looked like the kid was doing an impression of a pile of dirty clothes. He was all curled up, his knees pulled up against his chest, his head buried beneath the collar of his t-shirt.

“Larry,” Dave said, snapping his fingers. “Larry, Larry!”

The kid slowly popped his head from the t-shirt, like a gopher poking out of its tunnel.

“Larry, listen to me. I need you to sit here and don’t say anything. Daddy’s gonna go outside and straighten this whole thing out. Okay?”

The kid nodded his understanding then tucked his head back into his shirt.

“Alright, okay.” Dave spit on his hands and exhaled deeply then patted down his hair and wrenched open the doors. “Please God,” he mumbled, as he stepped out onto the shoulder, “just let me get through this. I promise, I’ll never ask for anything ever again.”

There were two of ‘em. They looked like assholes, their shiny badges glistening in the taillights of the bus. They had on blue starch-stiff shirts buttoned all the way up to their collars with those ridiculous floppy hats and black leather boots. One of ‘em pointed his finger in Dave’s direction, beckoning him to the rear of the bus.

“Me?” Dave mumbled, looking behind him as if he was pointing at someone else. “You want me?”

The officer smiled and nodded, his hat like a decoy hunting duck bobbing up and down in a lake.

Dave took another deep breath and began to walk towards him, trying as best he could to walk in a straight line. When he got to the rear of the bus, the cop was just staring at him, his arms folded across his chest, his feet wide apart. “You some kind of sports team?” the officer said, flatly, glaring at the whistle dangling around Dave’s neck.

“Uh, yes sir. Girl’s volleyball.”

“Uh huh. And where ya’ll coming from?”

“Uh…Boulder.”

“Boulder?”

“Yes sir.”

The officer moved his eyes to the bus’s back window—the girls were all crowded around it, their breath fogging up the glass. “And where ya’ll headed?”

“Estes Park.”

“You the one in charge?”

“Yes sir, I’m the head coach…Coach Bell.” Dave extended his hand for the cop to shake it, but the cop just looked at it, snorted, then spit on the ground.

“Coach Bell, huh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Dave, would it?”

“Uh…yes…yes it is. How’d you know that?”

The cop just smiled and let go another loogie. “You know what the speed limit is on this highway, Dave?”

“No sir. Eighty-five, is it?”

“Nope. More like fifty-five.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” The cop cocked his head and took a step forward, squinting at Dave like he was trying to catch the whites of his eyes. “You wanna do me a favor?” he said, as he lifted his middle finger and touched it to the center rim of his big, floppy hat. “You wanna look right here for me?”

Dave lifted his chin and turned his eyes upward trying to focus on that ridiculous hat. He was shaking so bad that he could barely control his muscles and he started to sweat like some kind of farm animal. His hands shook, his legs quivered, and it felt like the gorilla fingers were back slowly closing around his neck. But, he had to stay calm…he had to focus…he had to keep his eyes on that god damn hat.