The Middle of Somewhere Read Online Free Page A

hour. Once in a while all the contestants would pick up their lawn chairs or camp stools and walk around the vehicle— never lifting their hands, of course—for ten minutes at atime. Otherwise, they just stood there, exchanging recipes and family news and friendly insults—which got less friendly as the minutes dragged by, slowly adding up to hours. The sun went down, the temperature dropped, and the audience dwindled to friends and relatives cheering on Mom or Uncle Steve or Linda Sue. The chilly predawn hours dragged in day two. Heavy clouds gathered to choke off the sunrise. At midmorning, they let loose with a Texas gully-washer that lasted an hour and left the contestants looking like drowned cats. Another day crept by, then another night. …
    “They're a determined bunch,” Pop said, “worthy opponents every one. But at the beginning of the third day, they're starting to drop off. Grandmas, plumbers, a marine, a mother of six—one by one they peel away. Hands that have to stay flat are starting to curl, like dry leaves in the fall. Every hour, another one staggers away or gets the disqualifying whistle. The sun sets again. During the night, eighteen more contestants hit the asphalt. I just pop my supplements and talk to stay awake. By the time it's all over, every contestant and car salesman and TV reporter in the lot will know my life story, philosophy, and long-term goals. Not to mention the equivalent of a college-level course in wind power.
    “Day four dawns on about one-third the original number. By noon, five say adios. At sundown, three more collapse. During the fourth night, they drop like flies. At nine a.m. on the fifth day, I'm facing just one opponent, a feisty little one-hundred-ten-pound aircraft mechanic named Maria Garcia. The hours creep by. My hands are shaking,but hers shake worse. ‘Ain't worth it, Maria,’ I start telling her, even though my voice is almost shot by now. ‘You've got a loving family and a boyfriend who's crazy about you and a fine life ahead—you don't need this vehicle. What you need is a real bed. A big puffy pillow. Your mama to rub your back and feet.
    “There's a big crowd gathered because they know the end is near. Some of our former competition is cheering us on: ‘Way to go, Jack!’ ‘Hang in there, Maria!’ But her eyelids are heavy; her head starts to bob. As night creeps across the sky, her knees buckle—she's blacking out. A hush falls over the crowd. Her hand slides away from the passenger door, soft as a feather.”
    And that made John Q. Hazeltine (better known as Jack), after one hundred and nine hours, thirteen minutes, and seven seconds, the last man standing.
    Mama looked absolutely mesmerized, and I was just
tingling
. Talk about meeting your short-term goals!
    Gee finally broke the silence, whispering, “Wow.”
    After helping me clean up the kitchen and watching half an hour of TV—which he said was all he could stand—Pop went out to his double-size Royal Eaze mattress in the bunk of the RV (with the comfortable two feet of headroom). Mama managed to get to bed pretty much on her own with the help of rented crutches. I stuck a pillow under Gee where he'd fallen asleep on the living room floor and went to bed myself, thinking it had turned out to be one of the better days of my life. I fell asleep to the smooth, remembered sound of wheels rolling under myreclining swivel seat, floating over the open road on steel-spring suspension. …
    But as good as Sunday ended, Monday opened up rainbows, sunbeams, and white-water rapids of potential goodness. Because right after I came out of the bathroom, before anybody else was up, Mama whispered from her bed, “Ronnie?”
    I tiptoed in, expecting she needed help finding her crutches.
    Instead, she murmured, “I've been thinking. When your grandfather heads out to Kansas in a few days, what if you and Gee went with him?”

Don't take No for an answer .
Turn your negatives into positives!
    — Kent