A/N: Right guys, I thought, I can't keep you waiting too long, you'll get bored and then won't read. This is a strange one, and there's a lot of names, but I guess it doesn't really matter which names go and you might get all of them by the end! And Mort doesn't show up too much in this one either, (I know, I'm ashamed of myself,) but, I quite like this one. Saying that though, you all seem to like the ones I don't like, so. . .it's a bit iffy. But, (and I'm not telling you if Clementine's still here. . .yet,) lets see how we go. . .

Chapter One: Packing

"Venice!" yells Icing from the next room.

"What?" yells back her sister, frantically throwing clothes into bags, looking at the end product and repacking everything.

"What about sunblock? Do you think the others are gonna take some? Because if they are there's no point us doing taking any!"

"I dunno, I'll phone them," shouts Venice, tripping over the wire of her hair straighteners and grappling about for the cordless phone, hidden under several piles of clothes. She dials the number.

"Hey Levi, it's Venice," she says down the phone.

"Are you taking sunblock?" asks Levi from the other end.

"Just gonna ask you that, we'll take it then," Venice replies. "What time do you think you'll be ready tomorrow?"

"Er, well we'll finish packing tonight, and then we can be ready half past eight? Ish. As soon as we're up and washed, nine, maybe?" suggests her cousin. Venice chews her bottom lip.

"Ok, we'll be round at yours for nine, and get off straight away. Alright, see you tomorrow but probably speak to you before, bye! We're taking the sunblock!" shouts Venice to Icing hanging up the phone. Barkley comes into Icing's room, carrying a toothbrush and a pair of novelty boxer shorts.

"Barkers, have you got the road map? Because Phe hasn't got it, so it must be here somewhere," says Venice from the door.

"I'll have a look for it in a minute," says her brother, flopping down on Icing's bed.

"Bark, I'm packing that stuff, move!" shouts Icing at him, hitting him with a hairbrush. He quickly removes himself from the offending area, carefully keeping an eye out for any more swipes with the brush.

The truth was, it was a perfectly normal day for two teens and a twenty-something to be packing for a road trip. As if the packing wasn't stressful enough the organization was a mess and there were frequent phone calls to cousins about what things were being taken, and what cosmetic accessories the girls were trying to take and the boys were telling them not to.

Barkley, now on the hunt for the American road atlas he was sure he'd left with Phoenix, (Phoenix was arguing he'd given it back,) was downstairs, and got diverted from his hunt and was making a rather dangerously high sandwich. Icing, and her hairbrush, caught him in the act of edible consumption which, she thought, deserved another beating, seeing as the packing had only begun that morning, it was only ten twenty five and the next day at precisely nine o clock they would be leaving the house for two weeks. Venice found the map.

"I've got the map, it was in the garage," she shouts, emerging from the garage rather worse for wear waving the mustard yellow road atlas around in triumph. Icing, taking a bite out of Barkley's sandwich and then making a face to show her disgust for the filling, took it and put it, with other things, in the passenger seat of the car.

"Alright," she announces when she returns, "When you guys are ready you can load the car up because my things are almost packed and I've noticed you two are nowhere near ready." She opens a bottle of mineral water and takes a sip.

"Well if you're finished then you can start packing the car," retorts Venice. "Because I for one have a lot to do, so I will leave you two devouring your breakfast-come-lunch and continue with my good work." She left Icing and Barkley in the kitchen and returned to her room, where, Icing had been right, she was nowhere near ready. She takes first skirts and then tops out of the closet, folding them half-neatly and stuffs them in the large rucksacks with wheels.

So by the evening, everything was packed, the pizza had been ordered and Barkley and Phoenix had arranged which way they were going to Los Angeles, because it was a two day trip and it was pointless to go round in circles.

"If we go on twenty, then ten to El Paso," Barkley says into the phone, holding it between his right ear and his right shoulder, the atlas in one hand and a finger pointing so he knew where abouts he was in America. "We'll stay at El Paso for the night, then carry on with the ten until LA, or do you wanna stay a night or two in San Diego? Alright. We'll take the fifteen north to Las Vegas, stay in Las Vegas then come back down the fifteen and onto the forty to Oklahoma City and then thirty five down to Forth Worth, and I think we'll know our way back to Dallas from Fort Worth, or I should hope so at least." He listens while Phoenix speaks. "Yeah, sure. I'm gonna drive us the first part, then we'll probably switch and Venice'll drive onto El Paso. Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah. Alright? See you tomorrow, at nine I've been told. Ok. Bye." He hangs up. There's a knock at the door and Icing gives the pizza guy twenty bucks and takes the pizza through to the living room.

"Alright, cheese and tomato, that's Venice's, and pepperoni, mine, Barkley, what did you order?" she says rummaging through pizza boxes and potato wedges boxes, sauces and dips.

"One of those things with everything on it," shouts Barkley from the kitchen.

"Barkers you are a greedy bastard," she says, taking a potato wedge from the box and flicking the TV on. "Did you sort out a route with Phoenix?"

"Yeah," says Barkley sitting down to eat his food, eyes glued on the TV screen.

"You know, I really think we should both have maps, we're taking two cars, what if they get lost and we've got the map?" asks Venice.

"Then at least we won't get lost," replies Barkley.