My cousin Kari dived for money in Hurricane Bay and Castaway Creek, made $8.80.
Behind the cut is a nice second-person running account from the first day of our road trip, some point in Kansas. I got bored.
The cold bite from a frosty can of Cherry Coke was numbing her left arm and her eyes were glazed over from far too many games of Solitaire in too short a time. The jumpy pop lyrics from a four year old soundtrack blasted through her headphones, overpowering the Southern drawl from her mother’s book on tape, and her chin was tucked tight against a black and red vintage T-shirt of a band that had peaked fifteen years before she was born.
Her eyes fluttered as the media player switched tracks to music from an even older CD and she turned her head to stare out the window for a moment. Closest to the car was the brown and black blur of the shoulder of the interstate, and beyond that were fields upon fields of green and wheat brown, dotted with the occasional tree, cow, and faded white barn. The rain started up again with a bright flash of lightning and crack of thunder and she turned back to her laptop screen, wondering exactly how long – wait, sixty-seven miles to Hays, as a green road sign sped by.
Her mother started to slow down, the rain lashing out against the windshield as if they were in Florida, not Kansas, nearly obstructing the view. The girl sighed and leaned on her fist and stared at nothing as she tried to decide how to fill the next hour before they would stop for food. There was always more Solitaire, or the hundred or so DVDs she had packed (including nearly every movie Brad Pitt or Matt Damon had been in, she was ashamed to admit), but neither sounded too appealing. She sighed again. It was times like this she wished she could read in moving vehicles without getting nauseous.
She could always do some video editing. Her best friend was starting to surpass her as the best editor in their circle, something which she just couldn’t allow. Even if he was moving to Georgia and she was going to a private school the next school year and therefore wouldn’t be in the same circle. She chugged the dregs of her bottle of Mountain Dew as she reviewed this idea. Not bad. She’d need to import two more episodes into the editing program to do the video she wanted, but that shouldn’t take too long. She just wished she had remembered to download a DVD ripping program before they had left, so she wouldn’t have to deal entirely with downloads.
Fifty-three miles left till Hays. She groaned as she compared that time to the time left on importing the files. Editing would have to wait until after dinner, but what could she do in the meantime? She dug through the slim carrying case that held the laptop when she wasn’t using it, trying to remember if she had thrown in any game CDs. Aha! Yes! As was typical of her, all three she had grabbed were simulation games. Two had been with her since she was six years old, the last since she was ten. She hoped her laptop was backwards compatible; she hadn’t tried to install any of them yet.
Some time later, she got bored of her singular computer-based existence and traded words with her mother that ended with the putting in of a hick-hop CD into the car’s stereo system and sing-a-long time for the two of them as they started passing signs for Hays. There were about twenty, so they didn’t worry about getting off the interstate immediately.
This time tomorrow, I'll be asleep in a GWU dorm. Yay! In the mean time, I'm going to clean up the first chapter of my long-awaited (I'm sure) NCIS/CSI casefile while I finish watching America's Funniest Home Videos. Whoo! PAR-TAY!
...look, I've been eating Tootsie Pops for the past three days. My brain is on sugar-mode.
Anyway, aside from clothes and tolietries, I've packed my laptop, video camera (the tiny handheld one), my DVDs (all 120+ of them), my CDs (just the 12 I listen to constantly), my pocket legal dictionary, 1984, the Bourne Supremacy, my medicine, my cell phone, and my notebook with lined and graph paper.