the crazily racing cars. I wanted to move, but I was riveted by the scene outside the window. And I was scared.
There were more shouts, more breaking glass, and then the cars began heading up the driveway back toward our house. I could hear the loose gravel flying from under the wheels. They were going so fast!
âDad! Watch out!â I cried. I was vaguely aware of a terrible smell, like rotten eggs, filling the night air. Dad was standing in the middle of the driveway, facing the cars, and he wasnât moving, and they were speeding right toward him.
I screamed again, âDad!â But he just stood where he was, right in their path. I didnât want to watch, but I couldnât look away, so I stood there, filled with dread and disbelief, until, at the very last second, when I was sure they were going to run him down, the cars veered around him onto the lawn and then back onto the driveway. Loud squeals came from their tires as they made the turn onto the paved road, and the engines roared as they zoomed away.
There followed a strange moment of quiet, and then Momâs voice came from the porch. âJim, Iâm calling the police.â
I raced down the stairs. Meg was in the kitchen crying, and LuAnn was trying to comfort her while Mom was on the phone.
âWho were those guys?â I asked as I rushed into the room.
LuAnn shrugged, looking disgusted. âJerks. Probably drunk.â
âBut what were they doing here?â
LuAnn gave me a fierce look, glanced at Meg, then back to me. Okay. Obviously, she didnât want to talk about it in front of Meg. I went out the door and ran down the driveway to where Dad and the crew were gathered outside the trailers. The rotten-egg smell was fading in the breeze but was still pretty awful. It had come, I realized, from some kind of stink bomb thrown by the guys in the cars.
As I got closer, I could see a mixture of fear and worry and anger on the faces of the crew. Luisa stood with her arms huddled around her chest, looking mostly scared. The guys were all gesturing excitedly and talking in both Spanish and English. Frankâs face was grim and, I thought, frightened. Antonio and Rafael were scowling angrily, and Dad looked as mad as Iâd ever seen him. He and Manuel were talking as I approached.
âYou didnât happen to see any license plates, did you?â Dad asked.
Manuel shook his head. âNo. But one was black pickup truck. Another was long blue car. Two men in the truck, maybe more in the car.â
âYou didnât know any of âem, I suppose?â
Manuel shook his head and turned to the others. I assumed he was asking them if they recognized anyone. They all shook their heads, too.
Manuel leaned down to pick up one of the broken bottles.
âLeave that,â Dad said sharply, adding, âI want the police to see everything.â
While we were standing around waiting, Mom, LuAnn, and Meg came out of the house and joined us. Meg went up to Luisa and hugged her, and I saw the only smile of the evening flash briefly over Luisaâs face. It disappeared as a police cruiser came up the drive and stopped near us. Two uniformed men got out, looked around, and began asking Dad questions.
âYouâre having some kind of disturbance here, sir?â asked the younger, shorter officer.
âWe were,â Dad answered. âIt appears to be over for now.â
âThese migrant workers are yours?â
âThese people work for us, yes,â Dad corrected him.
âAnd where were they earlier this evening?â
Dad looked puzzled. âRight here. Why?â
The younger cop didnât answer, just asked another question. âThey werenât down at the Bus Stop?â
The Bus Stop was a low-life bar and grill downtown.
Dad said somewhat impatiently, âI told you, theyâve been here all night. You ought to be asking about the idiots who came joyriding through