Chapter 2 – The Get Away

Storm was there, standing impatiently in a vacant doorway, tapping his sneaker clad foot impatiently against the concrete.  My brothers waved enthusiatically to get his attention and he returned the gesture before rushing over to us in the middle of the street.

"Finally!"  He looked at me and blushed a little,

"Hi, Lish..."  I vaguely smiled back,

"Hi, Storm."  He stared at me for a few minutes longer before launching into the elaborate plan he had concocted.  I tuned out then.  I wasn't in a particularly good mood due to the lack of sleep I'd had and that it was due to something like this.  I just didn't get what the big hype was.  I mean, alright, I did, they were fantastic movies and Tolkien was a literary genius but in the end, was it worth all this trouble.  It was so highly unlikely that we'd meet anyone famous or if we did it'd be a few words, maybe a photo and a handshake, but it wouldn't matter.  To them it'd be one in a million people but, to my brothers, it would mean eternal friendship, even secret love affairs, all concocted over something so insignificant.  And as much as I hated Jeroma and I couldn't stand Ralph, I didn't want to see that happen to them.  It'd be worse than death when someone had to break the news to them that it wasn't real and I knew that person would probably end up being me. 

"LISH!" Ralph bellowed.

"WHAT?"

"Sorry, um, you looked a little, um, glazed, um..."  Jerome cut him off,

"Your bit is to man the get away car."

"Why do we need a get away car?"

"So that we can get away."

"Away from what?"  That's where he drew a blank.  He looked at Storm who kindof froze,

"Um, err, we... well, we get away..."  I smirked.

"It's away from the rabid fans trying to steal our tickets."  Rabid fans?  Sounded dangerous to me.  I shut my mouth and extended my hand for Ralph's keys.  He slowly placed them down.  Ralph is very protective of his van, his "precious" as he calls it.  I turned and started to clomp back to the carpark.

The last glimpse I had of them before I left; Jerome, tallest, dark cowlicked hair and freckles, brown eyes squinting in determination.  Ralph's floppy long hair, identical eyes to Jerome's, bottom lip bitten in anticiapation.  And Storm, messy blonde hair and permanently flushed cheeks, wringing his hands nervously.  Silhouetted against the sunrise.

Half an hour later we were speeding down the highway, boys squealing with joy in the backseat and the radio blaring in the front.