Amy Richman gazed absentmindedly out the window of the car she rode in. Her eyes found it hard to settle on things since the car was in the middle of the highway running at seventy miles per hour and continuing to speed up. Amy, becoming slightly dizzy, brought her attention to the inside of the car where the rest of her family sat. Her mother Bridget Richman, was at the wheel, driving to her hometown where she and the rest of her high school friends would have their fifteen year high school reunion. When Amy had heard the news, she had inwardly wondered how in the world so many nerd and geeks, and losers could possibly assemble in one place. Surely there was a law against that, wasn't there?
Amy's father, Eric, sat in the passenger seat, constantly reminding Bridget to, "Slow down, we'll make it in time for the reunion. You don't want to get us another ticket, do you?" his words would cause her to slow down temporarily, but she would always build back up to the comfortable speed of eighty. (Amy prayed to God that they wouldn't get in a wreck because, at the alarmingly fast rate they were going, they would all surely die.) Although, she hated to admit it, Amy had a stronger bond with her father than her mother. Her parents were competitive when it came to sports, and so was she.
The only problem was that they wanted her to play soccer, just as they had done when they were younger. But Amy hated soccer with a passion. She played simply to please her parents, but that didn't even work either. Her mother was always the coach, and if it wasn't bad enough that she was constantly screaming at her from the sidelines, she would set up a camera, and tape the entire game. Then when Amy got home, before she even had a time to shower and wash all the sweat off her, her mother would sit her down in the living room, where they would watch and rewatch the game over and over again. Her mother tried to strategize her moves with her, while criticizing her at the same time. Amy tried to drone out her words of "How could you have missed that goal? It was wide open!" and "Don't kick with the tip of your foot!" and "Don't do that again, you could get carded!"
Amy preferred her father's way of reassuring her after a lost game. He would pat her on her back on their way to the car, and through a smile, he'd say, "Don't worry, pumpkin. You'll get 'em next time!" And that's all he would mention to her until the next game. Amy had to admit she looked like her father, too, with a tall scrawny body and short dark blond hair only and inch of so past her shoulders. Amy turned her attention to her little brother, Jason, who sat parallel to her, on the right side of the back seat. He was ten years old, only two years younger than her. Though they were siblings, they looked nothing like one another. Jason took after his mother, with long legs and very blonde hair. Amy envied her brother; he was an excellent soccer player and it seemed to Amy that her mother liked him more and was prouder of him. She often felt left out, but tried not to let it get to her. She just wasn't a soccer person and her parents would simply have to accept that fact.
What she really liked, however, was softball. Her best positions were pitcher and first baseman. She could pitch up to nearly sixty miles and hour and was well known for it, too, at recess. She had never played in a real league, though, since bother her spring and fall seasons were spent playing soccer. As far as she knew, her parents didn't know about her talent. Amy glanced back out the window. They were now off the highway and riding down one of the familiar roads to her grandfather's house, where she and her brother would be staying while her parents went to the reunion. She signed rather too loudly that Eric glanced back at her.
"What's the matter, pumpkin?"
"Nothing," she replied gloomily. She didn't bother to tell him that she was bored out of her mind when she was at her grandfather's house.
Her father gave her a small smile. "Don't worry," he said, 'Grandpa's house isn't going to be that bad."
"Easy for you to say," she mumbled barely audibly, after forceing a nod in response.
"I can't believe you word that skimpy outfit today!" Tibby said to her daughter Tiffany from the wheel of the car.
"It's not skimpy," Tiffany replied defensively.
"If you bend over, anyone would get a good look at your bottom."
"My shorts are two inches above my knees. They're find."
"I'll decide what is fine for you to wear," her mother replied.
"I want you to change when we get to Grandma's and Grandpa's"
Tiffany lost complete control of her temper. (She had been arguing with her mother over every issue under the sun.) "Mom, it's summer! Just because you wear a business suit to go to some stupid reunion doesn't mean I have to dress the same way!" Tibby took her eyes off the road a split second to give her daughter a severe look.
"If you talk to me like that one more time, young lady, you're going to walk the rest of the way…and it's not a business suit, it's casual office wear."
Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Whatever." Silence reined between the two.
Tiffany looked out the window and, with anger, wondered if her mother had always been such a tight wad. She was far too over protective. She threw a lock of long brown hair over her shoulder.
Tibby glanced at her daughter, "Tiff, please don't make everything so difficult."
"I'm not the one making things difficult. You're the one who dragged me along. Why couldn't I have stayed at one of my friends' house?"
Tibby replied, practically yelling, "Because your grandparents wanted to see you!" he voice rang out across the car, and silenced her daughter.
Tiffany knew better than to say another word when her mother became this angry. She may be a tight wad but she sure could argue, given the topic. Tibby, once she realized what she had done sighed,
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have raised my voice, but I do expect you to be more polite."
Tiffany nodded, "yes, ma'am." Tiffany stared out the window.
She hated traveling with her mother ( she had already been in the car with her for six hours straight). She couldn't stay home since she had no father or siblings. For as long as she could remember it had been only herself and her mother. She had asked once before what had happened to her father, or is she had even had one, and the answer had been that she had been "a surprise from God". Tiffany figured out a couple years later that she had apparently been an unplanned pregnancy. She was twelve years old, and still, to this very day didn't know where her father was. Every time she asked her mother about him, she would purposely avoid the subject. She knew kids at school who had a similar problem but they at least got to talk with their biological parent over the phone Tiffany sighed and tried to turn the conversation to a slightly safer topic (one they wouldn't too quickly argue with. Plus, she had forgotten to pack her walkman; she had nothing better to do.)
"So why did you decide to go to the reunion? I always though you thought that they were stupid and wasted you time. I thought that's why you didn't go five years ago."
Tibby smiled. "I considered going then, but a little eight year old girl go sick with the flu and I had to stay home." Tiffany recalled the incident with a slight purge of guilt. Her mother hadn't told her she wanted to go all along. But then again it really wasn't her fault either.
"What I'm really looking forward to is seeing my old friends again." Tibby replied with what seemed to be a far away voice as if she were trying to remember exactly who she was talking about.
Tiffany didn't remember ever personally seeing her mother's friends, though Tibby did talk about them a lot. Their names were something along the lines of Carma, Leeny… she struggled to remember the last one, Was it Bee? Tiffany felt slightly sorry for her mother. She wouldn't know what she would do if she stopped going and doing the things she loved most, like the stables and trail riding with her best friend Tommy. Though she didn't admit it, she had had and eye on Tommy for a while. All Tiffany had to do was close her eyes, and she was able to picture every aspect of him perfectly. He had strong horseback rider legs,(just as she did.) had deep pacific blue eyes and blonde hair that, even after having a riding helmet on for hours on end, seemed to make him more handsome. Yes, she couldn't imagine living without her horses and her riding partner. She sighed once mare as her thoughts sank again. This would be the fist Saturday they missed riding with each other in nearly a year. She hoped Tommy wasn't too angry. When she told him that she wouldn't be there over the phone, he sounded disappointed. Despite how she had made him feel, she couldn't help feeling slightly rejoiced. Having him disappointed because he couldn't see her was a good thing, right? Tiffany smiled as she sat back and relaxed. She hoped this trip would be worthwhile. After all, missing her horses and her lessons was a great sacrifice for her mother.
Delia struggled to stay still in her seat at hangar C-9. she and her family had been busy all morning getting to the airport, getting their tickets, sorting luggage, and passing through security gates. Now that they finally found the correct hangar, or, as her father insisted "been told the correct hangar" (they had been moved several times because her father had misunderstood the directions given by a woman to had given their boarding passes), things began to settle down some. No matter how many times she road a plane, she never got used to the thrill of it. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. She had several minutes, maybe around twenty, before they boarded, and even more that before the airplane took off.
She glanced over at the rest of her family. Her father sat next to er, waiting patiently for the cue to get on the plane. He was tall, and strongly set with broad shoulders. He recently cut his light brown hair and recently went to the bedntist to get his perfectly white teeth cleaned. Though her father, Mike Johnston, didn't admit it, he was somewhat vain, especially when it cam to his appearance. The high school reunion was almost a big a deal to him as it was to her mother, Lena, and it wasn't even his reunion.
Delia thought her father had, what some of the people she knew called, a split personality. He could be very reserved one moment, yet be talking to someone nonstop the next. He could be serious than cracking jokes the next; he could be strict then very loving. Yet, Delia couldn't help but feel like her little brother Robert, was getting all his love and that the strictness was more and more often being directed towards her. She had to stay on her toes when deciding whether of not to speak with her father about a situation. Especially about college. He wanted her to be a lawyer or a doctor, saying he wanted her to "make something of her life".
The trouble was that She didn't know if she even wanted to go to college. She was exceedingly well at singing and songwriting. She wanted to be an artist, and the disagreement had started many fights between her and her father. She depended often on her mother to giver her attention, but now since she was entering her seventh month of pregnancy, Lena had to spent more of her time on the baby, preparing the nursery room and visiting the doctor to see if it was coming along well. Both Delia's parents had decided that they wanted the gender of the baby to be a surprise so Delia did not yet know whether or not she was going to have a little sister of brother.
Though she hated to admit it, she wasn't very excited to have a new sibling. She remembered when Robert had been born. He took up all her parents' time and attention, as well as just about all their money. Horror entered her thoughts as she remembered all the nights he had woken up screaming and crying. No, definitely not something she was looking forward to. She shook her head as if trying to shake out the negative thoughts and turned them into a more positive outlook. She was definitely glad to be riding on a plane which cut their traveling time in half. She would be able to see her grandmother and grandfather whom she hadn't seen in nearly two years. She would finally be able to see her mother's friends that she had been talking about so much Delia seemed to know Lena's friends almost as much as she did, even though she had never seen them before. There was Bridget, the equivalent to Mia Hamm; then there was Tibby, she was the one who liked to make movies. And last there was Carmen. She was the youngest, and, as Lena insisted, the sweetest. Delia's mother even said that they had children.
She didn't know whether or not they were going to be there, though. Delia snapped out of her thoughts and to eight year old Robert who was begging her to play a game with him.
"Please, De, please?" Delia looked at his pathetic expression.
"Alright" she gave in, rolling her eyes playfully, "I'll play." Nowadays she enjoyed getting any attention, even if it cam from her younger brother.
Several minutes later, as well as several rock, paper, scissors tournaments later, their parents told thme to get their belongings together, it was time to board the plane. Robert, in his excitement grabbed his bag upside down. Mony of his belongings fell out, including: his game boy and several games, a deck of crazy eight cards, his tape player and two picture books.
"Robert!" his family said in unison.
"Sorry!"
After the collected his things, they gave the attendant their boarding passes, and entered the small, plane door. Just as Delia had expected she and her family were undoubtedly the last passengers to arrive on the plane. After searching the plane, they found one entire row of three seats vacant, at the front of the plane, and one seat at the very back. Delia knew what was coming as her father turned to her.
"Delia, sweetheart, do you mind sitting in the back? Your mother needs to stay close to the bathroom, and I need to take care of Robert." Delia knew better than to argue with her father on seating arrangements.
"Yes sir," she said, trying to hide the touch of misery out of her voice but not quite succeeding.
She made her way to the back of the plane and , as if it wasn't bad enough sitting away from her family, the only seat available in the back was between and old, frail, and particularly talkative lady, and a very obese middle aged man. Somehow, Delia thought, I get the feeling that this ride isn't going to be as enjoyable as the others. She squeezed with difficulty, in between the lady and man.
"This is going to be a long ride," Delia said to herself as she buckled her seatbelt.
"Don't be silly," the old lady said, turning from the poor college age looking young woman she had been talking to on her left, "the ride is only going to be around an hour and a half long."
Delia got her walkman out before the lady could go on about how she looked like one of her grandchildren. She put the headphones on and turned the volume up as loud as it would go. Scratch that, she thought, this is going to be and extremely long ride
Samantha Lowell jerked awake at the sound of the extremely loud car horn.
"Get off my lane, you road hog!" her mother Carmen yelled to the driver of a speeding corvette.
She sapped on her blinker and changed lanes.
"Bunch of idiots," she mumbled to herself.
Samantha looked at her watch. It was nearing noon, which meant she had been asleep for only and hour. She studied the road signs, or at least the few she found, in vain.
"Momma, where are we?" Carmen calmed herself and responded,
"I'm not exactly sure. The map we have is not worth anything."
"I though you knew the way!" Samantha responded accusingly. The idea of being lost in the middle of nowhere wasn't very appealing.
"I did, but we were running behind schedule and I took a short cut. It obviously didn't work out eh way I had planned.
"Well, where's the map, maybe I could take a look at it" suggested Samantha. "I would let you, but coke was spilled on it" Carmen replied looking at her daughter like it was her fault.
"Well, it's not my fault." Samantha replied defensively.
"Well, I would think it would be your fault since it was you coke." Carmen said as she mover back into the left land
"But I didn't make it fall" Samantha said as she looked out the window.
"yes, but I did tell you to close the lid tight and not set it on the floor where the map was." Carmen responded.
Samanthat foled her arms and sighed. We're in the middle of nowhere and fighting over a stupid coke! She said to herself.
"Ok, let's stop, I don't want to argue. We'll just get some directions from someone and continue on our way." Carmen replied more calme now. Samantha nodded,
"Oh, I see an exit with a gas station, maybe you could get directions and a new map" Samantha pointed to her right.
Carmen quickly changed lanes and sped onto the exit. Samantha was tempted o clench the edge of her seat in a death grip as the car turned the sharp corner. A Shell gas station came upon them quickly and she pulled into one of the pumps.
"We need some extra gas anyway," Carmen declared as she unbuckled her seatbelt ad stepped of the car.
Samantha watched her mother enter the small building. While she was sitting there, toying with her imagination, she wondered if they would ever get to Maryland. They would most certainly be late for the dinner that they were going to have with her mother's friends and family. The word family got her thinking and she concluded that her family would probably be the smallest since she was an only child and since her father had passed away when she was 5 years old in a car accident. Ever since then (pretty much her whole life, for as long as she could remember) Carmen tried her best to spend every living moment with her, trying to make up for the loss of her dad. Samantha didn't appreciate it much, now that she was thirteen. She couldn't do anything without her mother at least knowing, and very seldom got to do things her self. When Carmen finished at the pump, she entered the car again with a new map at hand.
"According to the cashier, we're just a bit off course. We'll make it there only just about a half hour late."
Samantha sat back, a little more satisfied to know that she wasn't going to be too late for the dinner. As strange as it may seem, she was excited to meet her mother's friends, whom she talked of almost daily. She was excited to meet their children as well. She already knew each of their names because Carmen's friends had sent her pictures of their children, Which Carmen had done the same. There were three of them right around her age , too: Amy, Tiffany, and Delia. She knew this trip, granted she had to stay with her boring grandparents, would be and exciting one.