Slow Dance in Purgatory(30)

“Little Harvey? Gene’s boy?” Johnny was once again caught off guard.

“Yes…he’s Gene’s son. He’s not so little anymore though. He’s kind of old… and fat,” Maggie said matter-of-factly.

Johnny burst out in an incredulous chortle. “Little Harv. You know, he got that name toddling around the shop. He couldn’t have been more than two. He had these little toy cars that he pushed everywhere. It was the sound he made for the engines revving – HARV, HARV!” Johnny laughed again. “We started calling him Little Harv, and then it became Harvey. I guess it stuck, huh?”

Maggie grinned, relieved that the memory seemed to please Johnny. “I guess so.”

Johnny leaned into the car, smoothing his hand over the padded dash and the huge steering wheel. He ran a thumb over the little brass plate on the dashboard that was engraved with Irene’s name. “This thing was top of the line. It had the dual four-barrel carburetors – 270 horses. She could move, baby - 115 miles per hour at top speed. I remember wishing I could take it for a spin. It had the flashy Sabre-spoke wheels, chrome around the license plate, shark fins in back, bullets in front. Beautiful.” Johnny slid behind the wheel and, gripping it with both hands, marveled that it was “two toned with a horn rim.” Maggie tried not to laugh. Johnny just sat, admiring the car he had coveted so long ago.

“Would you like to take a look under the hood?” Maggie said suggestively, trying to urge him toward the problem areas.

Johnny laughed again and proceeded to do as she instructed.

Propping up the hood, he whistled once more. “Harvey’s been taking good care of the old girl. Look at that! It’s got the 331 bent eight and the dual four-barrel set up right there. It’s even got the original Cadillac valve covers.” Maggie nodded politely, completely clueless.

“Fire it up, Maggie. The engine’s still pretty warm, but I want to make sure it’s nice and hot before I go in and check your transmission fluid.”

Maggie did as he asked and climbed out again, watching him as he stared at the whirring engine in obvious pleasure. He was absolutely transfixed. After several minutes staring down at his own personal paradise, he spoke again.

“The tranny is a four speed Hydra-Matic. I gotta get underneath to check it out, but let’s hope I can fix this one, because replacing it will cost time and money, and I’ve got time but no money, and from what I’m guessing, you don’t have either. When do we have to have this little project completed?”

“Irene will be back on Sunday evening. That gives us two days, max. Plus, we can’t exactly have her car parked in the middle of shop class on Monday morning. That would be a little hard to explain.”

“The longer the car is here, the easier it will be for me to fix, “Johnny replied, leaning in deep under the hood and sliding a long dipstick out like he was unsheathing a sword.

“Why is that?”

“Anything that is in the school for any period of time absorbs its energy. The school and I are connected somehow, and I can manipulate that energy – hence the door locks and your glasses.”

‘I wondered how you did that! They really were cracked, weren’t they?” Maggie marveled, pulling her glasses from the visor and perusing them once more. There wasn’t even the slightest scratch remaining.

Johnny was silent for a few seconds. “The fluid is foaming a bit – somebody’s filled it up too high. That’s an easy fix. Shut it off, Maggie. Let’s take a look underneath.”

Maggie shut off the engine and waited while Johnny jacked the car up and slid underneath. She slid under the car beside him, staring up into the metal underbelly. The concrete was cold against her back, and the smell of gas and grease tickled her nose. She had no idea what she was looking at, but Johnny seemed to. He had gotten into the tool cabinet and was using a wrench to unscrew something.

“Johnny, did you just say the word ‘hence’ a few minutes ago?”

Johnny snorted and glanced over at her lying beside him beneath the car.

“Good word, huh? You start using words like ‘hence’ when you’ve read most of the books in the library.”

“Really? That many? I’m not much of a reader.” Maggie frowned. “The words always get jumbled up on the page, and I guess I’ve never been able to sit still long enough to unscramble them. There’s always a song in my head, and I get distracted and then, next thing I know, I’m working on a new move or dancing around the room.”

“I didn’t used to read. In fact, in high school I really avoided it. I spent all my free time working on cars.” He smirked a little at that. “But you learn to like it when you have absolutely nothing else to occupy your time, and time is endless.”

“So you read, sleep, play music and haunt the school,” Maggie tried to tease him a little. “What else?”

“I don’t really sleep. Not in the way you do.”

Maggie just raised her eyebrows at that, waiting for him to continue.

“When I first changed, I just wandered the school in an angry fog. In fact, I did some damage before it occurred to me that nobody could help me, and if I scared everybody away I was going to be completely alone. I was so emotionally wrecked for the first little while that it never dawned on me that I hadn’t eaten or slept in what had to be a very long time – as well as all the other very human things that are just part of daily life. I wasn’t hungry, though, and I wasn’t tired. Actually, I take that back. I was tired; I just wasn’t sleepy or sleep deprived, if that makes sense.”