Interstate 95

Chapter 1: Silence Shattered by Scraped Plates

There's nothing in the world more suspenseful than a quiet family dinner. The one thing you hear is forks stabbing the food and clanging against the plate. Even with a family of six kids, sometimes, dinners end up quiet. My dad hates quiet dinners, so he would always try to start a conversation, but they always end  like this:

"So," he says, "how was school for you all?"

No one answers. J.J. puts his head on his first and scrapes the plate like he always does, then starts mumbling.

"I hate black-eyed peas! Why do we always have to eat this stuff?"

Mom gives him a look, a look that says "Boy, you better eat those peas before I stuff them in your mouth" and "If you give me any more trouble, I'm gonna knock you into a whole 'nother family!"

J.J. shuts up, but he still doesn't eat the peas.

Dad tries to start another conversation, "So, tomorrow is the last day of school! You all excited?"

We were all paying attention to him this time, but Stephanie, my younger sister, ended up saying what was on everyone's mind.

"What are we gonna do this summer?"

We all look at Dad as if we were in a staring contest with him where the winner gets ice cream. Everyone had friends who were doing big things for the summer.

"'Cause my friend Carmen from school said she was going on this cruise to the Bahamas, and I really wanted to go, but she said she only had tickets for three people..." 

By the time Stephanie was going to ask if we were going to take a three-hour flight to the Bahamas, Dominic, the oldest brother, excused himself from the table and went upstairs to Mom and Dad's room, the only room besides the living room with a TV. Daniel and I followed. 

Just like that, the silent dinner was over.