B.O.N.D.E.D.

7. Trouble Part 1

When asked about their ideal mates, Ernest said someone eccentric and energetic.

Darissa said someone who could understand her.

Nestor said someone interesting.

Owen said that it simply depended on the situation.

Blaise just uttered one word: "fictional."

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The moment Nestor made the man deep throat his hotdog was the exact moment Owen decided to leave the restaurant for good.

He could've thought of a better way to resolve this situation, a way that didn't involve unnecessary violence and stupid confrontations. But instead, Nestor Anderson took it upon himself to end it the worst way possible, and doing so with such arrogance and egotism. Typical Nestor— as Owen would've said years later. It was like his power meant nothing to him, when it could've potentially meant the world to Owen...

"You're shaking your legs," Darissa said to him.

Owen just noticed his leg motion, "Oh, it's a bad habit."

"Lots of people do it," she said, "Especially when they feel troubled."

As usual, he couldn't tell whether Darissa Lu was secretly a genius or just really good at guessing. For now, he wanted to assume it's the latter answer.

"Well, the only trouble I have right now is deciding whether or not to steal your fries, because you clearly don't seem interested in them," he joked to lighten the conversation.

Darissa stuffed the last bits of fries into her mouth all at once.

"That was harsh."

They paid for their food and left the restaurant. Owen sat on the backseat of the big, white van, preparing to endure another hours-long drive.

Five minutes later, though, they stayed at the same spot.

"What's wrong?" He asked Ernest.

"It won't start," Ernest replied annoyedly. He tried starting the car once more, but its motor didn't even make a sound.

The group stared at each other, not knowing what to do. Besides the air of unease, Owen sensed another mood slowly rising in the van, emerging from their contorted facial expressions. The mood, as Owen would soon discover, was the mood of amusement.

It was not hard to identify why that mood had infected such a dreadful scene: after all, a bitter laughter was all they could manage in this situation. They had encountered some strange situations together. First the escape room, now a broken car. It almost seemed like some sort of divine being was purposely messing with their lives.

"Oh boy," Owen laughed to himself, "This is going to be a long trip."

The look on Ernest's face, a look that could only be described with "kill me now," was what stopped the others from bursting into laughter.

"It's probably the engine," said Darissa in the most serious tone she could squeeze out of her throat, "Does anyone know how to fix a car?"

The answer was an overall silence.

"Then... where is the closest car repair shop?"

"We passed one that was five miles away," Nestor said without looking up any information sources. Owen still didn't know how he remembered that.

"Well," Darissa shrugged, "I guess we're screwed."

Ernest covered his face with both hands in an agonizing rage. His powerful performance seemed to foreshadow the fate of his future— being fired.