"Three interviews, Josh, and you've done well with
every one of them."
"Interviews? What are you talkin'?"
"Oh, sure. They weren't as formal maybe as they
should have been, but they were interviews just the same. You and I
have talked for three or four hours, all together. And Ned was
impressed. You handled yourself well yesterday when we saw his class. Not
so much that you knew what was wrong with the car. But your
composure, especially when Kristen attacked you, made him
think you'd do okay."
"You said three. Who else has been judging me?"
"Gretchen. A hired spy. I gave my niece twenty bucks
last night to take you out and give you the third degree. An
excellent report. Her boyfriend works for General Motors, and he said
good things too."
"All we did was go to a movie and get a hamburger."
"That was enough."
"Geez. So if Gretchen's boyfriend hadn't liked me, it'd
be all over? Some admissions procedure."
"Well, it's not our usual route. But not everybody
comes with the same connections you have."
"Here we go again. It's not me. It's you and Ms.
Parsons. And you're just dragging me around. I told you, I don't like this.
I think I should just go home. I don't need you, or your
school. Exeter is a pretty nice place."
"Settle down, Josh. Sure, Holly sent me the letter. But
now you've passed three hurdles. Four, if you include Kristen. So
now you come highly recommended by Holly, who knows nothing
about cars, and recommended by the three experts I set up for you.
That moves you up a notch, from friend of a friend, to a good prospect."
"Maybe. I still don't like it."
"You've got lots of time to decide. I'd like to have
you here, and I'll mail you a letter that says that. But you'll have
to think about it, and then send in an acceptance. Or not. You'll
be able to decide that back in Exeter. Talk it over with your
friends, your family. Maybe that's good enough for right now."
"I want to be in control of my own life! I don't
want. . . ." Josh stood up and started pacing around the office. "I don't
want favors. I don't want things that I don't deserve. I've worked
hard to be who I am, and I know it's all my own doing. And now
you and Parsons and who knows who else want to change all of
that. Make me something that I'm not. Life's not a game!"
"Josh. We all want you to be in control of your own life.
We don't want to take that away from you. But the more you know,
the more you can do. The more you learn, then the more choices
you have. Right now, you have one choice. Work in the garage, or
not work in the garage. But after two years at the Michigan School
of Automotive Technology you'll be able to choose from lots
of options. And then you can choose the garage because it's the
best choice, not because it's the only choice."
"Words, words, words. My life is not words. It's cars.
It's pumping gas. It's. . . . I don't know."
"Your words are pretty good. Holly sent me one of
your stories. It's got a lot of automotive metaphors in it, but it's also
a good piece of writing. It impressed me."
"Yeah. But there's a difference between stories and reality."
"Sure. Although it's sometimes hard to keep the
two straight. But try this. You write a good story. It impresses
Holly. She sends it to me. I invite you out here. You impress me. I
invite you to be part of my school. Where did the process start?
Who's the instigator? Who's in control?"
"More words." Josh circled warily, eyeing Maloney.
"But good words. Words that make sense. Sit down,
Josh. Just give me a few more hours, and then you'll be on your
plane back home."
"Talk to me." Josh settled in the chair opposite the big
desk. His whole body was taut. Like a caged tiger, he watched his
tormentor. Whoops. Josh knew that if he was crafting similes in
his mind, that Maloney was right about words, and control, and
the Michigan School of Automotive Technology.
"Your folder is kind of thin right now. I've got your
application and letters from, um, Gus at the garage, Mr. Latvis at
the school, and Holly. I just need a little more background
information and then we'll get lunch at the airport. How much formal
training have you had?"
"Huh?" Damn. Trapped. Josh knew that he'd been led up
a blind alley, and now it was over.
"You know, formal training. Courses at school. Maybe
some other programs."
"English is my best subject. But I'm doing well in all of
my courses, this term." He knew this wasn't the right answer.
He squirmed in the chair and remembered how certain he'd been
that he hadn't needed the vocational training at the high school.
"Isn't there a vocational school in Exeter? Or nearby?"
"Yeah. But I don't go there. I don't have time. I got all
my training at the garage. Gus is a real good teacher."
"Oh." The room grew suddenly cold.
"Look. Maybe you better just put me in a cab and I'll
go back to the airport right now. Thanks for everything. It's
been great. I'll tell Ms. Pars . . . Holly, that we had a real good
time."
Josh was out of his seat again, backing away from the desk.
Mr. Maloney pulled out a pen and began twisting it in his hands.
"It's not the end, Josh. Most of our kids have had two
or three years of training in high school, that's all. But it's not
a problem. Well, it is a problem. We need to get you some
formal training this summer. When do you get out of school?
You're graduating this year?"
"June ninth. Why?"
"Well, I'd like you to go to a vocational school this
summer. We run a summer program. Or maybe there's something in
Exeter. Then you could start here in the fall, up to speed with
everyone else. I think that would do. I'm sure it would do. You're a
smart kid. You know your way around cars. A couple of months
this summer should make you the equal of any of these kids out
here. What do you say?"
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