Standing By

A Nervous Ride

(Elliott)

People were getting the hell on my nerves. First it was Tim, with his incessant mouth, not quite following instructions with the paps, then just sitting there like a knot on a log when he should have just taken off. His hesitation had given the paps the opportunity to try again—and I saw them try to get at Adam's door, the fear growing in Adam's eyes as he struggled for control over that door, and that scared me. I knew Tim would never intentionally do anything to put Adam, or any of the others, in harm's way—he loved Adam and the others as much as I did—but still, I let it rile me up. Not to mention that sarcastic tongue of his. Sometimes he just didn't know when to control it. I could deal with it for the most part, but my patience was wearing thin with him. I was frustrated with myself because I let my aggravation show, getting snippy with him and slamming the car door. Naturally, Tim's extremely faithful friends had jumped to when I did it and now they were riding my ass as I was trying to drive. I kept alternately opening my mouth to tell them as politely as I could muster to shut up, and then closing it, not really wanting to argue or make them even more mad at me. Everything my brain could come up with was either sassy, stupid, or just plain ugly, and I didn't want to lower myself to that.

"Are you even listening to us, Elliott?" Rob snapped. "Kevin, is he paying attention to us?"

"What?" Kevin looked up from his phone.

"Yes, Rob, I hear you," I told him, trying to keep my tone light but not flippant.

"You haven't said anything," Austin challenged.

I pursed my lips. Calm. Be calm. "Austin, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm trying to drive. And this red sports car is making me nervous."

"Don't change the subject on me!" he snapped.

"Can't you just yell at me later?" I requested, giving the dude plenty of space. He was driving erratically, straddling lanes, and alternatively speeding up and slowing down. Dude was going to cause an accident. I wasn't going to let it be me.

"He drunk?" Kevin asked me, watching him swerve to avoid hitting a plastic bag harmlessly laying in the roadway.

"Probably." I switched to the far lane to stay the hell out of his way. "Kevin, call 911 and let them know they have a red Camaro, license plate A92 66T that's driving erratically and drunkenly." We all flinched when it came within inches of sideswiping a grey Ford.

"Shit," Rob commented.

The Ford honked at the dude, then a blue Toyota joined in after getting cut off.

"Russian roulette. Who're they gonna kill?" I muttered, shaking my head. I hate drunk drivers. It's stupid, selfish, and deadly.

"Yes, my friends and I are in a car on I65 South—"

"Near Harding," I clarified, coasting along in the right lane as it zipped past us.

"Near Harding," Kevin told the dispatcher. "There is a red Camaro, plate A92 66T driving erratically and drunkenly. It's nearly hit two cars already... yes, please... thank you." He hung up. "Reported."

"Great. Thanks, Kevin," I told him.

"Where'd it go?" Rob leaned forward to look for it. "I don't see it no more."

"It went zooming around the bend," I reported, now feeling calmer since it was away from us. "Someone else's problem now, I suppose. Pray for no injuries."

"Where's Tim and Chance?" Austin wanted to know.

"I haven't seen Tim's car at all. Chance is over there." I tapped at my window where he was a few car lengths behind us. He also seemed to be trying to avoid that Camaro.