An Awfully Big Adventure

Hour Seven: A Whole New World

7. Your character sings a Disney song to make a friend happy. To whom, which song, and why?

Chip decides he needs to pull Dale out of his stupor. Dale has taken the wheel again, and has decided to use his concentration on the directions, which involve following the same highway for hours on end, to shut the rest of them out. It makes Chip uneasy, because he is supposed to be the quiet one. That is his place, and when his niche is stolen from under his feet, he is unsure of who he is supposed to be.

Wendy is still sitting in the back, mostly because she doesn’t want to have to deal with Dale’s frosty behavior. She had never been good at comforting others, and she knows that rather than alleviate his contained frustration, she will intensify it. She’s always been too good at egging people on. Plus, with her own parental issues, that also doesn’t derive from legitimate hatred, the subject hits a bit too close to home.

She can also gaze at Dale from afar. Even the back of his head is intriguing, and Dale isn’t even aware of her invasive stare, so that’s an added bonus.

But poor Chip is left to brave the uninviting demeanor that is sitting next to him, and he finds himself in an awkward situation. He had turned earlier to talk to Wendy, and wait for Dale to open up, but he hadn’t the faintest idea of what to talk about. Plus, he noticed her pining expression, and didn’t want to intrude.

He finds he is not very assertive when there isn’t a goon with a football to taunt him. Now, he treads carefully, but his legs and arm are tiring. He fears he might drown in the rising awkwardness.

The radio is still playing some indistinguishable song, and the process of trying to decipher the lyrics gives Chip almost as large of a headache as thinking of how to strike up a conversation.

There is a stack of CD’s in the glove compartment. Chip had packed a few before they had left, and right now they are the perfect thing to break the ice. He rummages through the pile, searching for one CD in particular.

He doesn’t feel any shame in owning it. Who knows how old the thing is? After all, it is still on disc, and not purchased via iTunes. The tunes are stellar, and who doesn’t love Disney music besides heartless folk. And, Chip concludes, Wendy’s parents. Clearly, they are the aberration from the common public.

The opening notes of the song float through the car, and Chip can hear a small gasp from the backseat. This is immediately followed by a shrill squeal of excitement. A small twitch of a smile appearing and vashing on Dale’s mouth follows suit.

“I can show you the world!” Wendy howls, horribly off key. Chip’s headache returns, and he winces, temporarily turning off the music. Wendy’s singing hasn't helped Dale’s mood either.

“You,” Chip commands, pointing at her, “No more singing.”

She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “But I like singing.”

“Well, my ears don’t like your singing, and there’s two of those and only one of you. It looks like you’re out of luck.”

Wendy humphs in the back seat, “Like you could do any better.”

Chip laughs, because maybe Wendy doesn’t realize how tone deaf she is. It’s funny how her enthusiasm for awful singing juxtaposes her obvious talent for artistic works.

“I’m not that bad!” Wendy protests, “Stop making fun of me.”

“The poor, poor soul that sings worse than you. I have immense pity for that person,” Chip mutters under his breath. Wendy can’t hear exactly what he’s saying, but she is smart enough to know that his words are not in the form of compliments. Her eyebrows pull closer together, and when Chip catches sight of this, he gulps and quickly turns back on the CD.