“Put it in gear!” shouted Twitch. The gear shift was on the floor next to the seat.
Stanley pulled the lever back until the arrow pointed to the letter D, for Drive.
The truck lurched forward. Stanley jerked back against the seat and tightly gripped the wheel as the truck accelerated.
His foot was pressed to the floor. The truck went faster and faster across the dry lake bed.
It bounced over a pile of dirt. Suddenly Stanley was slammed forward, then instantly backward as an airbag exploded in his face.
He fell out of the open door and onto the ground. He had driven straight into a hole.
He lay on the dirt staring at the truck, which stuck lopsided into the ground. He sighed.
He couldn’t blame his no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather this time.
This time it was his own fault, one hundred percent. He had probably just done the stupidest thing he had ever done in his short and miserable life.
He managed to get to his feet. He was sore but didn’t think he had broken any bones.
He glanced back at Mr. Sir, who remained where he was, staring at Stanley. He ran.
His canteen was strapped around his neck. It banged against his chest as he ran,
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