2 Hours and 37 Minutes

Chapter 2

                My hand tapped profusely on the banister while I hummed a Hunter Hayes song as I made my trek downstairs.

            “What the hell are you wearing?” Jack shouted as his eyes raked over my form stopping at my bare legs with a scowl edged on his all too handsome face.

            “Clothes what does it look like,” I shrugged. Who the heck does he think he is?

            “No way are you wearing that; go change” he replied matter-of-factly.

            I scoffed. “Daddy” I said with what I hoped was a wide eyed innocent look at my father who was sitting at the mahogany dinning table peering at me over the rim of his coffee cup.

            “Jackson, leave your sister alone,” he gave Jack a pointed look.

            “But..but..” Jack stuttered in response. Oh Jacky boy you have a lot to learn. I smirked victoriously and did a mental fist pump.

            My mother rushed in frantic: wisps of her dark blonde hair escaped her bun, you could tell she was mentally checking things off a list, and her green eyes were searching the room until they locked onto their intended target. Me.Oh brother, what now?

            “Cass, so lovely of you to rejoin the living, it’s not like we have anywhere to be or anything? Nevermind pleasantries, go load up your bags” she said in rapid succession then turned to Jack, “and you do the same. Cass, don’t let him fool you; he dragged his lazy behind out of bed right before you did.” That little weasel. I glared at him. Mom wasn’t finished, “Why must my children bring me to the brink of dousing them with ice water in the mornings?” she said more to herself than to anyone in particular.

            “Kat, calm down; we’ll be out of the house in no time” Dad raised his blue eyes look at Mom. Mom’s name was Katherine, but everyone who knew her knew better than to call her that to her face; she preferred Kat. Dad was always the calm one while Mom, on the other hand, started to worry even if we were just a minute behind schedule. I swear you’d think that day planner of hers was like the Holy Grail or something. Mom’s always been a little OCD about things like that; I mean I’m all for being punctual, but this woman takes it takes to an all new level. Vacations are always such work for her because she does the planning, calculating, arranging, it’s like she’s planning for World War III or the zombie apocalypse; she worries up until we get settled into the hotel because she knows her job is done, and she can finally relax. I swear with the amount of sighing that woman does by the time we get to the hotel could, she could fly a kite.

            “Just get everything in the car and do it before I have an aneurysm, please,” she quipped as she rubbed her temples. Oh Lord, the migraine is  already setting in, and we haven’t even got past breakfast yet. What joy. I thought dryly.

            Glancing at my brother who was perched on a stool at the counter slurping the last remains of his frosty flakes, I noticed that he too had gotten ready: worn dark wash jeans, a blue plaid button up shirt that made his green eyes stand out against his tanned skin, and black Nike sneakers. His black duffel bag was on the floor at his feet.

            “Come on Cass,” Jack announced as he got up, rinsed his bowl in the sink, and grabbed his bag. I grabbed mine as well and followed him out to the car. We were taking Mom’s car: a white four-door Chevy Cruise. Jack held the door for me as we made our way cross the porch.

            “Here give me your bag,” he said once we reached the open truck. Mom and Dad’s bags were already in there. Shocker. Their faded red suitcase and mom’s toiletry and cosmetics bag were on the left. I handed off my bag the dear brother Jackson who decided to expand upon his quota for good deeds today. Squishing his duffel and my bag into the remaining space in the trunk, he slammed it closed. He was still glaring at my outfit. Bro, if you want a fight go ahead, but you know I’ll win.

            “Okay peeps, just let me go make a pitstop, and I’ll be ready to roll,” I said once we made it back into the house. I heard shuffling behind me as I made my ascent to my bathroom upstairs.

            My bathroom looked the same as it always did: paisley printed shower curtain, pink fur topped seat, silver accents, and a pile of dirty clothes by the tub. After taking care of my business, I glanced at my reflection in the toothpaste flecked mirror. Looking good, Cass, looking good.

            When I got back downstairs, it looked like a ghost town. Of course they made me the last one to get in the car. Grabbing my purse off the counter from where I apparently left it earlier, locking the door with my “They Are Not Only Books” key chain swinging from my key ring, I made my way to the car. Sliding in the backseat next to Jack and placing my purse in the floorboard, we were set to go. I pulled out my batman cased iPhone, 9:03. Not too shabby. “Party Girl” made its way to my eardrums as my purple earphones filtered the music from my iPhone; I pulled out Clockwork Angel. Only a few more pages. Glancing at Jack sitting with his head laid back on the seat so that his dark blond hair fanned out against the leather, he too was listening to music and seeming trying to get some sleep judging by his closed eyes.

            Breathing a resigned sigh, only seven hours to go.