Road-Trippers

Twelve: Drive My Car

"Ah, Joe!" says Larry, leaning up against my van, orange-tinted sunglasses blocking his brown eyes.

The airport parking lot is huge and quiet at this hour. My shoes rhythmically tap the blacktop, becoming in sync with my friends'. Levi jogs back over to Lucy and taps her on the shoulder, handing her something green. She looks up at him and nods rigidly.

She runs up to Larry, thrusting a wad of cash in his hands.

"Thank you so much, Larry!"

Glasses tipped ever so slightly, lips drawn up into a sly grin, the man replies, "my pleasure, Miss Janet." Lucy scoffs, scurrying over to the other side of the van.

I walk up to Larry and give him a firm handshake, returning with a weak, wimpy one on his part. (Does this guy even lift?) I smile, genuinely grateful. "Hey, thanks, man."

"You're welcome, Joey." He lets go of my hand, and I look down to see my keys. I smile and unlock the van, letting an embarrassed Lucy inside along with me. After giving Larry a big hug, watched with a laugh from Emmett, Levi climbs into the back, followed by Antione and Emmett respectively.

We're gonna make it.

Oh, boy, do I wish my speculations were true. I guess I must've forgot that it's Spring Break, and people are constantly flowing up and down the heat-wave populated roads. Only one of the millions of automobiles stuck in this abhorrent freeway traffic, I honk my horn simultaneously to the black Ford Edge next to me. I look into the back of the van where my friends sit, tentatively tapping the floor in anxiety.

"You think we're gonna make it?"

"I sure hope so," replies Emmett, a wintergreen Altoid producing a circular bump in his left cheek. "My parents would kill me if they found out. I'm only twelve, y'know?"

I nod in tune with Levi, looking back towards the road. Rage fills me from head to toe. Don't cry, don't whine, don't scream. Don't cry, don't whine, don't scream. Instead of listening to my convincing thoughts, I let out a combination cry-whine-scream, capsulating the words, "OH MY GOD I CAN'T HANDLE THIS!"

Lucy and Levi look over at each other, tired of my nonsense as I cry-whine-scream. Lucy shakes me, waking me up from this chaos. I gaze up at her, eyes blocked by a thin coat of moisture. "I can't do it."

"Do what?" Levi passes her a stress ball, which she hands to me. The plastic of the ball warps and flattens as I push my palm against it, lying on my steering wheel. I close my eyes and give the ball back to Lucy, as it's too distracting.

"I won't make it. I don't have the guts to weave through traffic."

"I could-"

"You wouldn't," I scoff, knowing she never does anything unacceptable without cracking. "You would back down."

Lucy bites her lip, leaned over the center divider between our seats. The little silver key hanging from her neck sways as she nods, looking back into the back seat. I take a peek in the direction she's gazing. She smiles. "I know someone who won't." Finger pointed at the young, underage advocate, she looks back at me with a buoyant smirk.

"This car is my life!"

"If it was, maybe you should know it's a van."

"Oh, shut up! He's not driving!"

"What do you love more- your car, or your life?"

I bite my lip, pondering. Car, life, car, life. I sigh, hurdling over the center divider into the backseat. Lucy cheers, clapping exuberantly. "Emmett! Guess what?"