NO EXIT (The Apple Grove Gang #1)

  *****

  Tick, tick, tick. The sound of pebbles bouncing off his window woke Bug. He lay perfectly still in bed. He hoped that the monster outside his window wouldn’t burst through the wall to eat him.

  “Bug, wake up. Bug.”

  “W-w-who is it?” Under his breath Bug pleaded,” Please don’t eat me, please don’t eat me, please don’t eat me.” Bug attempted to make himself invisible by closing his eyes.

  “Bug, it’s me, Benny. Open the window.”

  Bug opened his eyes and tried to focus on the window. It was Benny! He released the breath that he had been holding for the last minute. He jumped out of bed and ran to the window to let Benny in. Thwack! “Ugggh...” Bug had stubbed his big toe on the dresser. He bit down on the side of his hand as he jumped up and down, trying not to wake up anyone else in the house.

  With a flick of the latch, he unlocked the window. Benny pulled himself into Bug’s room, tossing his basketball onto the bed. Bug continued to groan in agony. Benny grabbed a pillow, thrusting it over Bug’s face. The pair hopped around the room for a minute or so until Bug could be trusted not to scream. Then Benny removed the pillow.

  “Thanks, Benny, you saved my life,” Bug said.

  “I wouldn’t say I saved your life, but I did keep you from raising the dead. Now, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  Bug sat on the edge of the bed and told Benny what Pops had said during supper. “The last things he said were, that we should go on a bike ride and that you can’t beat City Hall.”

  “Did he say anything about beating the State Highway Department?” Benny asked.

  “No, why?”

  “I have an idea,” Benny said. “What if we ride our bikes to the Highway Department and talk to that Lester Babbish guy? Maybe we can get him to change his mind about closing the exit.”

  “I don’t know, it might work, but what about the gang?” Bug asked. “We’re supposed to meet at nine o’clock.”

  Benny retrieved his ball from the bed and started toward the window, then turned to Bug and said, “We’ll meet with the gang first thing and get them busy. Then you and I will ride to the Highway Department. We’ll get things straightened out with those people even if we can’t fight city hall.”

  7

  WE STAND TOGETHER

  Benny was finishing the last spoonful of his Wheaties when he heard a knock at the kitchen door. He dreamed of one day having his picture on one of the Wheaties boxes. Today, however, was not a day of dreams, it was a day of action.

  “Hey, Benny! Are you ready?” Bug pressed his face against the screen door, causing his face to look horribly misshapen.

  “Bug, don’t put your face there, it makes you look gross. Besides, my dad says it’ll stretch the screen. I’ll be right out. I’ve got to get my basketball.”

  Bug sat on his Schwinn bike waiting for Benny. He looked like one of those clowns that ride bicycles in the circus. His mom and Pops bought him the bike on his eighth birthday, just before his growth spurt. Because he was so tall Pops adjusted the seat and handlebars to the highest position. Even then, his knees came up close to his chin when he rode. For two years, he had been asking for a new bike, but Pops said it would be a shame to let such a neat bike go to waste.

  “See ya, Mom! Bug and I are going for a bike ride,” Benny yelled into the house, then let the screen door slam. He went outside to the driveway where Bug waited. Throwing his right leg over the seat, Benny readied himself on his red Sears and Roebuck bike, complete with battery-powered headlight and tail light, rear baskets, a bell, and streamers on the handlebars. Once on, he put his basketball in the basket and secured it with two leather straps that crossed over one another, making an ‘X’ that held the ball. Benny’s grandmother, who lived in Cleveland, sent the bike to him for his last birthday. It was the best birthday present ever.

  “Let’s go meet the gang,” Benny said. Down the driveway they went, turning left and heading for the alley behind Pops’ Market.

  When Benny and Bug turned off Grove Street into the alley, the gang was already waiting for them. All of them except Cliff, who was still sleeping. When Bug was ready to go, his mom had said to let him sleep.

  Cindy was sitting on one of the wooden crates that lined the wall. She had five boxes of cupcakes stacked next to her. As soon as she saw Bug, she eagerly offered him a cupcake. It seems that only one had turned out good, so she had saved it for Bug.

  “The first batch burned, and the frosting ran off of the second batch because they were too hot. I was running out of batter, so these are all kind of small and dry. I don’t think we can sell them for enough to do much. But I did have one turn out just right. Her hand shook with anticipation. “Here, Bug, you can have it.” Sigh.

  Moe leaned against the wall with a look of concern on his face. He held a large pad of paper covered with numbers and figures. His weight shifted from his left foot to his right foot and back again. As soon as Cindy finished, he began to talk.

  “I was up almost all night going over these numbers. As best as I can figure, we’ll all be thirty-seven before we make enough money to open the community center and pay Cliff.”

  “Okay guys, it does look like maybe this is going to be harder than we thought. Bug and I are going to ride to the Highway Department and talk to them about opening the exit,” Benny said. “Do you want to walk with us until we get to the exit from the highway?”

  “Sure, we might as well,” Moe said.

  “I guess,” Cindy said. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

  As Benny and Bug coasted on their bikes, Cindy and Moe walked beside them.

  Cindy asked, “Does anybody else want a cupcake?”

  Moe and Benny grabbed handfuls of cupcakes and started stuffing them into their mouths.

  “Hey, you’re a good cook,” said Moe, with a mouth full of chocolate goodness.

  “I’ll have another just in case,” Bug replied.

  “I saved another nice one just for you.” Sigh.

  To get to the highway, the gang had to go down the Exit 23 ramp and past the tollbooth where Cliff had worked. When they got close, they could see a man up on a pole working with wires. It was Bill McGhee, the phone man.

  “Bill!” Bug yelled and waved his arm from side to side. “What are you doing up there?”

  Bill loosened the harness that held him to the pole and climbed down to see the gang. “The Highway Department just put in a work order to have the phone line disconnected from the tollbooth. How’s Cliff? I sure miss his tacos.”

  “Cliff is fine, still sleeping, though. He had a rough day.”

  “He should open a taco stand and sell them.”

  “What? What was it you said about tacos?” Bug asked . The wheels in his head began to turn.

  “One day I was going through the tollbooth when Cliff was eating his lunch. I told him how good his tacos looked, so he gave me some. I joked with him that I thought it would be a swell idea to sell tacos from the little window in the tollbooth.”

  “Wait a minute. Wait just a minute. I have it. Oh, this is real good. We’re going to open a taco stand,” Bug beamed. “We can put up a sign for our tacos, right on top of the tollbooth. We’ll sell tacos out of the tollbooth.”

  “One problem, Bug. How are we going to get inside?” Cindy asked. “We don’t have a key.”

  “I do,” Bill said. “I suppose if I forgot to lock the door, just about anyone could get inside.” Bill looked at the gang and winked at them.

  “I think that answers your question, Cindy,” said Bug.

  Cindy turned toward Bug and bounced up and down on her toes. “Bug, you think of everything.”

  “It looks as if you kids are going to have a taco stand,” Bill said. Then he turned and climbed back to the top of the telephone pole.

  “Here’s the plan then,” Bug said. “Moe, you go to my house and get Cliff. Tell him we need the camp stove out of the garage and some of my mom’s
pots and pans. Oh, and get some of those big spoons that she has in the drawer next to the stove. After you have a kitchen set up, I need you to check at your house for some picnic coolers and some ice. Benny and I will go to Pops’ Market to get supplies before we go to the Highway Department.”

  “I’m right behind you, Bug,” said Benny.

  Turning his attention to Cindy, Bug said, “We need you to make a sign that says Cliff’s Tacos. When you’re finished with that, put up some decorations to make this taco stand look authentic! After that, get ready because you’re the assistant chef!”

  “I think it’s all great, but I’ve been thinking,” Moe said. “Since Bill came to us with the idea for a taco stand, why don’t we name the taco stand after him? How about Bill’s Taco Stand? What does everybody think?”

  “It’s super duper,” said Bug.

  “Sure, I like that a lot,” said Benny.

  “Oooh, that sounds exciting,” sighed Cindy.

  Bug got on his bike and smiled at the gang. “It’s settled then. It’s Bill’s Tacos! Alright, everybody has a job, let’s get going!”

  Benny and Bug stopped by Benny’s house, dropped off their bicycles, and retrieved Benny’s Radio Flyer wagon. Bug pulled the wagon while Benny dribbled his basketball down the sidewalk. They headed towards the alley behind Pops’ Market. Once there, they made their plan. Benny would get the produce and soda. Bug would get meat and spices. Most importantly, they couldn’t let Pops know they were there. “I’ll have mom tell Pops that we borrowed a few things,” Bug whispered. “When the time is right.”

  “Okay, Benny, you need to get one bag of onions, one bag of lettuce and two cases of Pepsi,” Bug said. “Remember, like a mouse.”

  “I gotcha.”

  Bug poked his head in the back door. He looked to the left, and he looked to the right. Pops was nowhere to be seen. “Coast is clear, let’s go.”

  In they went. Benny opened the door to the walk-in cooler. Stacked in front of the wall to his left were three rows of red plastic cases that each held four gallon cartons of milk. To his right were seven neat stacks of fruit crates. Straight in front of him were several piles of burlap sacks. Some were filled with red potatoes, others were full of lettuce, and finally the last was full of Bermuda onions.

  Seeing his prizes, the twenty-five pound bags of onions and lettuce, he dragged a bag of each from the cooler and left them next to the stacked cases of canned vegetables. Turning back to the cooler, he quietly closed the door so as not to alarm Pops that someone was in the back room.

  All the while, Bug held a large cardboard box in his hands as he spied, through the space between the swinging doors, Pops ringing up Mrs. Trumble’s groceries. As soon as he starts to take her groceries to her car, I’m off to get the spices.

  Meanwhile, Benny had just finished carrying two cases of Pepsi outside that he stacked in the bottom of the wagon. Next, he placed the lettuce and onions on top, then he waited and waited. He thought to himself, Bug, what is taking you so long?

  At last, Pops finished punching prices into the cash register, took Mrs. Trumble’s money and counted her change back. Then he tore the almost three foot long receipt from the machine and put it in one of the bags.

  “Can’t forget the Green Stamps, Mrs. Trumble.” Pops turned a dial and long, green ribbons of postage-like stamps came shooting out of a small dispenser.

  “Oh my stars, I almost forgot those.” Mrs. Trumble smiled and held out her hands, and Pops piled the stamps in them. “I’m saving up for a new coffee percolator, and I only need one more book to get it.”

  Green Stamps were like a prize when you bought groceries. For every dollar you spent, you got a stamp. You saved them by pasting them in a book, and when you had enough, you could buy things from a catalog.

  As soon as Mrs. Trumble had the stamps safely locked away inside her purse, Pops began to push the cart of groceries out the door to her car. Bug would have just a couple of minutes at the most to gather supplies.

  Bent forward from the waist and awkwardly swinging his arms, Bug went running down aisle number one, reached into the meat case. He stacked packages of ground beef in his box until it was half-full. He turned the corner and ran up aisle two. Without stopping, he threw bottles of salt, pepper, and chili powder in with the beef. Passing the refrigerated case, he grabbed several large packages of cheddar cheese, then on to aisle five where he grabbed all but one package of taco shells.

  As quick as he came in, he was gone. Once reaching the safety of the alley again, he stacked the box on the top of the wagon and said to Benny, “Let’s go.”

  8

  RALLY THE TROOPS

  “Babbish here,” the voice said. “Sure, we can meet tonight. I’ll call the mayor to make sure he can be there.”

  The phone rang at city hall. “Mayor Macallister’s office. This is Loretta. How can I help you?” Loretta was the mayor’s assistant. She also was his niece and that kept him from firing her even though she didn’t do a very good job.

  “Let me talk to Macallister right now!”

  “Let you talk to Macallister? Right now? Mayor Macallister is in a meet…”

  “I don’t care where he is. Just get him for me now,” Babbish snapped.

  “You don’t care where he is. Just get…”

  “Get him now and stop repeating everything I say,” demanded Babbish.

  “Get him and stop…”

  “Just go!” yelled Babbish.

  Loretta put the phone down on the desk and turned around in a complete circle. Then she ran through the hall past the mayor’s office and down a flight of stairs to the conference room. Without knocking, she burst in the door in time to see the mayor bestowing the Friendly Citizen Award to Frances Cronk from the Apple Grove Ladies’ Auxiliary.

  “It’s with considerable honor, as mayor of this fine city and a servant of the fine citizens of this fine city, that I announce the winner of this year’s Friendly Citizen Award is…” The mayor turned toward Loretta with an annoyed expression on his face and asked, “What is it Loretta?”

  “Mr. Mayor you are needed on the phone right away,” said Loretta “It sounds like it is – very – important. It’s – Babbish!”

  “…Frances Cronk, thank you, goodbye.”

  The mayor dashed across the conference room and was out the door and down the hall before Mrs. Cronk could say thank you. He was in his office and reaching for the phone in a matter of seconds.

  “Macallister here. Tonight, at seven o’clock, I’ll be there.”

  The mayor hung up the phone, sat down in his leather chair, put his feet up on his mahogany desk and laced his fingers behind his head. He smiled a sly smile and said aloud to himself, “This could be my lucky day.”