Jack's New Power by Jack Gantos Page A

mumbled. The car straightened out and we raced a taxi to the red light, where we came to a screeching stop. The three of us bounced off the back of the front seat and fell to the floor. When I pulled myself up I was thrown back as the light turned green and our driver floored it. Betsy had her shoes propped against the dashboard and her right hand gripped the overhead strap. Her left hand was pressed against the side of the maniac’s face, so he could only see with one eye. “Slow down!” she yelled.
    He laughed and speeded up, then jerked his head out the window to get a better view. The engine roared as he pulled out to pass a line of slower cars and bicycles.
    I glanced at the two boys.
    â€œOkay,” the older one said to the younger. “Now’s your chance. We’re on a straight stretch.”
    The speedometer needle was up to seventy-five and we were passing everything on the road. If anyone pulled out in front of us we’d be dead meat.
    When I turned back toward the boys, I was shocked. They both had their pants down and were pulling plastic bags of pee off their private parts. The bags had been held on with rubber bands. The older brother, who was next to the door, threw his out the window. He then reached for his brother’s full bag. It was a delicate operation made even more difficult because the bag was so full. Before he could swing it out the window, we hit a curve at seventy and the three of us were pressed against his door with my face
about an inch away from the dripping pee bag. In an instant we straightened up and he tossed the bag out the window before we took a curve on my side.
    When we straightened out again, the younger one attached a fresh pee bag to his privates and yanked his pants back up. I looked at the older brother.
    â€œHe scares us so much we wet our pants,” he shouted over the blast of air which was screaming through the open windows. “This is all we can do to stop it.”
    Just then the maniac hit the brakes and we went into a sideways skid down a dirt road. We came out of the fishtail and quickly pulled into a driveway. Overhead was a sign which read ARAWAK SUMMER CAMP.
    We came to a stop inches from another car and scared the passengers into ducking down. The two boys hopped out. “See you later,” I said, as we spun out in a cloud of dust and flying gravel. Up the road we pulled into another driveway. PRESENTATION YOUTH COLLEGE read the sign.
    As soon as we came to a stop, Betsy reached across the dashboard and pulled the keys out of the ignition. She jumped out of her side and threw them into a field of grass.
    â€œHey! You can’t do that,” the maniac squealed. He sounded like an angry Chihuahua.
    Betsy raised her fist to his chin. “I just did it,” she growled. “So what are you going to do about it, you little runt?”
    He turned and ran into the field. He dropped down onto his knees and scratched up the ground.
    â€œCoward,” she hollered. “It’s not nice to scare kids.”
    â€œThat goes double for me,” I yelled.
    Betsy turned around and gave me the evil eye. “Oh,
shut up,” she carped. “You sound tough now, but all you did was bounce around back there like a bowl of yellow Jell-O.”
    She was right. I hadn’t lifted a finger to help out.
    â€œWhat could I have done?” I asked.
    â€œYou should have covered his eyes with your hands.”
    I imagined just how helpful that would have been. We went inside and found our class assignments, which were listed according to grades. There were half a dozen other kids about my age scattered throughout my room. They weren’t Americans, so I figured other countries were also dishing out crummy educations.
    I took a seat next to the window so I could daydream. Suddenly a very stubby, thick man marched into the room.
    â€œRise and stand quiet,” he ordered.
    We all stood.
    He set his briefcase down on the