"Come on Ket, they'll be here any minute!"
Ket huffed, picking up his backpack and a large, heavy duffel bag. He looked about the room very quickly, mentally running through a checklist in his head. He panned about the room, in case he saw something he might have forgotten. He spotted his knife by the couch, wondering if he should take it and practice; he thought against it.
Upon the couch rested an envelope with his name on it. He purposefully put the letter from his pen-pal there to remind him to read it when he got back.
Satisfied he was ready, he approached the stairs, teetering at the top stop. His weight shifted and bobbed forward, then back. He caught himself at the railing, regained his balance, and started to walk down. "Coming, mom!"
At the bottom of the stairs, to the left and into the kitchen, were two more duffel bags, along with a small long bag and two sleeping bags. The sleeping bags were rolled up and standing on their sides, which made them look like cinnamon swirl pastries.
"You got your toothbrush, flashlight, comb, mouthwash—"
"Yes, mom,"
"Shirts, shorts, sleepstuff, socks, underwear—"
"Yes," he said very clearly with a pause between; "Mom."
"Hey. We're going for a long drive and we're gonna be gone for quite a while so if you forgot something it's tough banana bones for you."
Her son rolled his eyes, dropping his things to add to the collective pile.
They were headed to the beach. Bery Brillian, Emeral's father, had gone with his family to an auction-dinner for his law firm on the night Lyza had her flute solo. He did not participate in the auction itself, but there were a few drawings, and he won one of them: a paid mini-vacation to the beach for a family of four. However, the Brillians were a family of three, and since Bery hated beaches more than his sister, he opted to go visit family, inviting the Rachauns to take up the other two spots.
Ket's mom was ecstatic. She obviously needed some kind of vacation; she hadn't really done anything remotely like this since she and her husband separated.
Ket was also ecstatic, but he would not let the full extent of it surface. He played it more like it was going to be a somewhat fun and interesting thing to do, but on the inside he was all too eager to spend time with Emeral.
She was just as excited about it, too. They would stay up talking about what they wanted to do, how to sneak in hugs or kisses, how to keep their moms from knowing their secret admiration, and how to keep themselves in check. It wasn't so much that they wanted to keep it such a secret from their families, they were just far too embarrassed to tell their moms about it. The last thing either of them needed was for it to be any big deal.
And it would be a chance to really work together. Lately they had been bickering more often than they liked, but they both agreed that it was mostly because of school. This kind of break would be just the perfect thing; lots of time together without any worries of homework or really stupid and boring tests. Just the two of them, maybe their moms, swimming with the fish and trying to fight off a sunburn.
"So...what's the plan?" Ket asked.
"Plan?"
"Yeah like...we get there and set up the tents and go to bed. Is that the first night?"
"Oh no," his mom said, thinking of something she forgot and beckoning him to follow her into the living room. "We won't be there until tomorrow," she explained, heading into the door that led to her room, taking a left into her bathroom. "We'll drive for a while, I think until like ten o'clock, and then we're going to sleep in a motel."
"A motel?" Her son asked, a little dismayed.
"Yeah," she replied, noticing not the dimness on her son's face or the lip that he bit. "Just for that night, then we'll leave early in the morning and get there maybe by the afternoon."
"Do we know where we're even going?" He questioned.
She laughed. "Of course. Garne's already been there before, she knows the way." His mom picked up a brush and flipped her hair over so that the back of her neck was bare. She began sifting the brush through the red strands, "What's the matter, are you a little worried we'll get lost?" She didn't mean to sound as dopily teasing as she did.
Ket sighed. "Well I don't exactly like things not going smoothly."
"Actually it's good you're asking," she praised, sort of as an apology, "It shows you're very responsible and thorough. You're thinking ahead, looking out for problems..." She flipped back up, setting the brush down and grasping a scrunchie from a pile by the sink. "You're more your grandfather every day."
The compliment by comparison seemed to appease him, as his eyes colored back to their normal gaze.
"Books to read—"
"Yes, mom," he replied with a smirk, walking back to the kitchen.
About then, a series of rapid knocks came from the front door, incessant and relentless, like the suppressive fire of a machine gun. Ket and his mom stared at each other for a few seconds.
"How long you think she can keep it up?" His mom asked.
"Tell her we have coconut and she'll stop," he said, getting up to answer the door. Even as he opened it she was still knocking, her hand rapping at the air where the door once was, her white muzzle almost as white as the pearl teeth in her grin.
"Well gee, Emmy," Miss Rachaun said, moving to the pile of stuff they had in the stairway hall, "I thought you'd be excited or something."
"Beach. Boo." She said, still grinning.
"Is this too much?" His mom asked, "We're usually good packers but with four people..."
"It'll be fine," Emeral said, looking behind her shoulder, "We're taking the van so there's plenty of room. Hand me one of those sleeping bags, Ket."
Ket hefted one of the cinnamon swirls up, and tossed it toward Emeral. She caught it with an oof.
"Careful," his mom warned, affixing another strap to the two already on her shoulders, "Those things are deceptively deadly when thrown."
"I got it okay," Emeral said, and held it from the bottom and against her chest as she walked down the abridged sidewalk toward the black van at the curb.
The van was playing some of Emeral's CDs while they loaded everything in the back. The van—really a minivan—was a three-row seater, but the back row had been taken out to make room for gear. Already in it was a cooler, and a couple of spare propane tanks for the camping kitchenette that Micah had packed.
"Is there enough room back there?" Mrs. Garne asked after the kids got situated. Child sat behind mother, and both nodded their head.
"Hurry up and goooooooo," Emeral ordered.
"I'm goin', I'm goin'," the engine thrummed, and the black van turned around on the street, heading southeast.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, their bellies were full of cheeseburger, soda and fries, and their minds were full of boredom. Well, Emeral's was at least. She had been looking forward to this little vacation ever since dad won the drawing, but when she was asked if she wouldn't mind her boyfriend and his mom coming, the week went dead slow with anticipation.
This car ride was a million times worse.
The city scene gave way to the suburban scene. There was more green and sunshine, a noticeable difference from the haze and gloom of the city streets. The asphalt was even brighter, taking on a glimmering and vivid gray-white as opposed to the thick, dark, black that radiated heat like an oven.
Oldie-moldies played on the radio. Somehow it was rude to have everyone listen to what she likes, but not what her mom liked. Oh well, it wasn't like music would make the time go by faster anyway. She'd listened to every song more than a zillion times and she was already feeling stir crazy on the drive over to Ket's house.
Speaking of Ket, she looked to her right. The ever familiar stripe-pattern on the back of his head was presented to her. A mural of curves and bends that looked much like the desert sands of Egypt in the setting sun. It was in the way the shadow fell on the other side of the dunes; the wind-rippled pattern of the flat beds like she had seen on the Discovery Channel.
He was staring out the window, his right elbow propped upon the arm rest attached to the door. His left hand rested on his thigh, his index finger playing with the zipper on his zip-off pants. He seemed not bored, more like pondering.
Emeral wished she could ponder like he could. But she was stuck anxiously awaiting when she could fight those big, white-capped waves, clenching her mouth shut lest she swallow a big gulp of fish-poop, sea-salted, sand-water.
"Hey mom?"
"Yeah, Emmy?"
"How long have we been driving?"
"Not even an hour, kid," Mrs. Garne replied with twinge in her voice. "You're not gonna start saying 'are we there yet?' every six seconds, are you?"
"Hey, mom?"
"Yes, Ket?"
"You grabbed the blue tent right? The red one is missing the rain-fly, remember?"
"Actually I found the rain-fly. It was in the living room, buried under copies of Sports Illustrated."
"Mooom, it's hot back here, can you turn the AC on?"
"It is on, Emmy," she replied, reaching behind her, "Your vent is closed. There, is that better?"
"Much."
"Mom, can you get mine, too?"
"Mom do we have to listen to this song?"
"Okay okay, hang on," Mrs. Garne said as she pressed the pedal to break at a red. "I'm having trouble telling which of us is 'mom'."
"Trust me, mom, you're not the only one," Micah commented, causing a chuckle.
"Anyway," Mrs. Garne continued, "Before we get much further we have to come up with a way to tell which of us is which, otherwise us moms will end up going on strike."
"How about you're Momma B., mom, and Miss Rachaun is Momma R.?"
"Oh my gosh it's brilliant," Momma B. said with enormous relief, stepping on the gas.
"I second the motion," Momma R. chimed. "All oppose?"
"I," Ket raised his hand.
"Motion to throw my son out of the car."
"Nay, nay! I object!" Emeral protested, "I'll be bored otherwise."
"Then I shall spare him."
The moms and kids laughed together, followed by a bit more silence. The music seemed to increase in volume, even though no one touched the dial. Ket returned to his pondering and Emeral returned to her boredom.
Suburbs slowly transitioned to flat grass and speckles of trees and shrubs. Every now and again, they would come across a rise on the right or the left of their little street that had that green erosion-proof toothpaste.
They drove under three different kinds of sky. First it was overcast and cloudy. Then the clouds rearranged and they clumped into lines that looked like a tall giant had tilled them and plowed them into the neat little furrows. Finally that sky broke away at a completely flat line, and only little wisps and motes could be seen, far too shy to get too close to one another.
Emeral took in a great big sigh.
"Hm?" Ket asked, turning his head.
"Huh?" She asked back.
"Did you say something?"
"No."
"You two have been awfully quiet back there," Momma R. commented, glancing back.
"I'm bored," Emeral admitted.
"How can you be bored, you know how long this car ride is," her mom said, "Didn't you bring something to entertain yourself?"
"I did!" She retorted, "I brought my CDs."
"Then why don't you listen to them?"
"Cuz I don't wanna."
Momma B. rolled her eyes. "Motion to throw my kid out?"
"I wan-na play a DS but..." the girl said, hinting at the ungotten Christmas present.
"Maybe for your birthday," her mom said thinly.
"Hmph." Emeral crossed her arms.
All of a sudden the tiger next to her came to life. Like he'd just woken up with a start, he sat upright and wiggled his arm a little, shaking loose pins and needles and cobwebs. Abruptly he ducked down to the backpack that rested beside Emeral's on the floor between them. The zipper riveted as it opened, and the worn fabric rustled as he dug around inside the big pocket.
Emeral watched as he fished in it, out of the corner of her eye. He pulled something out, small and red; square shaped. He opened a part of it, repeatedly plucking something from a little drawer and meticulously placing it on top of the flat box. He closed the compartment and shifted to face her, displaying the object; a checkers-board, with magnet pieces.
"Your move," he said, the red pieces facing her.
She giggled. "Where did that come from?"
He shrugged, "You're bored. Let's play a game."
She looked at the board, and with her finger moved the left-middle red circle across the plastic-covered metal. "King me!" She playfully demanded.
