Disclaimer: I have literally no idea what this chapter is. It's kind of stupid and...yeah. If you don't like it, so be it. Hamilton isn't mine and thank God for that because I am exhausted. Also, the Italian Job is a fantastic movie and y'all should watch it.
"IF WE DIE I WILL DESTROY YOU!"
"YOU'LL HAVE TO FIND WHAT'S LEFT OF ME FIRST!"
Swerve
Left
Blinker
*Chimmmme*
"You can't go across three lanes like that!"
HONNNNNK
"PEGGY!"
"SHUT UP!"
Turn left-
Right-
Ugghhh.
*Chimmmme*
Come on, brain.
Why'd you have to focus on it?
Now I can't listen to anything else.
"Aaaaaand you've missed the exit." Angelica slumps in her seat.
"Rerouting. You are on the faste-"
"Be quiet, GPS Lady. I know."
"-each your destination by: One. Fifty-eight. P.M."
"Fifteen minutes?!"
"Yeah, we're getting on the Triboro."
She groans. "Peeeeeeg…"
"Who wanted me to drive? This is your fault-"
"LOOK OUT!"
My eyes widen. I jerk the steering wheel right and narrowly miss a gray minivan.
Angelica clutches her seat belt desperately. "Pull over."
"Wha-"
She turns her head slowly. "Pull. Over."
Okay, fine.
She visibly relaxes once my hands are off the wheel.
"Where are your glasses?"
"They're reading glasses," I snap. "I don't need them for driving."
A sigh.
"Are you sure about that?"
Sarcasm is dripping from her voice.
Glance
She's twisting her rings again.
This oughta be good.
She only touches the rose gold metal when she's about to lose-
"MARGARITA RENÉE SCHUYLER YOU'D BETTER GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR I HAVE MADE EYE CONTACT WITH DEATH TOO MANY TIMES BECAUSE IF YOUR IMCOMPE-"
Made eye contact with death.
My sister the drama queen.
Apparently there are only three things one needs to know when driving: Stop at red lights, stay between the road lines, and don't press the gas and brake pedals at the same time because bad things will happen.
None of which apply to me.
For the most part I'm okay on the highway. The traffic is annoying but not extreme. Not like, say, Black Friday, when you want to stab your eyes out with a pencil. I mean, at least then people would clear the way for you.
The phone rings from my car. Without looking to see the caller, I press the Accept button.
"You there yet?" Herc sounds tired.
I roll my eyes. He's clearly calling on John's behalf. "I left ten minutes ago, mon ami. Tell John to relax. What does he want?"
"Pulled pork sandwich, extra B.B.Q. and sweet potato fries. And I want-"
"Wait." My grip on the wheel tightens and I suck in a breath. "Okay, keep going."
"Triboro?"
I nod stiffly even though he can't see me. "Triboro."
Of all the bridges in New York City, the one I hate most is the Triboro Bridge. The traffic is terrible, the people are hyenas no matter what time of day it is, and there are two potential bodies of water I could drown in.
Oh yeah, I should explain this more.
I have this irrational fear of driving over water from watching The Italian Job for the first time. There's a scene in the movie where one guy betrays his friends and their car rolls over into the icy water and they only stay alive by using oxygen masks. Since that movie I've been afraid if driving over water. I feel like I'll hit or be hit by somebody so hard that I will somehow break physics and roll across however many lanes and fly right off the edge and drown in my car.
Which is another badge of irrational fear I earned from watching i, Robot.
Speaking of robots, I also hate toll booths. Yeah, I have one of those pass things, but I still hate them. It's always a gamble when you pull up to a toll booth.
You either get someone who's really friendly and comes out with a smile and a "How are you sweetie? That'll be six dollars, hon. Have a fabulous day!"
Or you get someone who's obviously bitter about the fact that their potential to be a famous actor is being wasted working a toll booth on the Triboro Bridge. And those people are some of the most degrading on the planet.
Today, I get one of those people. It's a woman, tall and skinny with a face that screams "I take lollipops from misbehaving children."
"Hold on," I tell Herc. "Toll booth."
He snorts. "Have fun with-"
"Sssssh."
I greet her with a smile. "Hello, how are you doing-"
"Cash."
I stare at her. "What?"
"Cash." She thrusts out a gnarled hand.
"Oh, I have a pa-"
"The scanner for your pass isn't working today," she spits. Her voice sounds like it's softly drowning in cheese graters.
Made of lemons. Green, awful, under ripe lemons.
Mrs. Softly-Drowning-in-Cheese-Graters-Made-of-Green-Under-Ripe-Lemons looks at me like I'm her worst enemy.
"Um… okay, let me get some money, it'll only take a sec-"
"Ya should've had it ready when you pulled up to the booth."
God, lady. Stop cutting me off!
I find a few bills in the little tray thingy and hand them to her. She doesn't even count out my change before pounding the button to let me pass.
"Have a good day!" I scream behind me, and then to myself: "Lord have mercy on your soul. Mon Dieu."
My ears feel like they're
full of water.
I'm blocking out
everything she says.
I can't do this much shouting.
I sit through five minutes of silence until I reach the toll booth before the Triboro.
I need cash.
Ocean down
"ad this much trouble with Eliza, but of course she"
"AHEM!"
She stops.
Finally.
"Are you done?"
Exhale.
"Yeah."
"Good. I need money."
"What for?"
Wow. She was that worked up?
"The toll booth. I started driving again while you were screaming. These aids have adjustable volume, you know."
"And you didn't do that beforehand?"
"I wasn't gonna blatantly ignore you, but I drive better without sound."
"Oh."
She hands me a ten.
The booth we end up in
is blocked by someone who's getting chewed out by the booth lady.
She is screaming at the top of her lungs
in the roughest
most scratchy
chainsmoker voice
I have ever heard.
Eventually the person gives her a crumpled bill and she presses the button inside to let the car by.
When it's my turn to pull up, I do my best to be friendly.
"Good afternoon, ma'am."
"Six dollars." She says it like a curse.
I hold out the bill and she snatches it out of my hand, digging in her neon vest pocket for change.
Crack.
I wince. "Angie, really…"
"What?" She flexes her fingers.
Crack. "You know I hate it when you do that."
"Pay attention," she says, nodding her head at the lady.
She's glaring at me like she's mentally trying to turn me into ash, clutching four wrinkled bills.
"Teenagers,"she snarls as she slams her fist on the button.
I tear ahead without looking back.
Keep calm, take a deep breath, and try not to die today.
I think I can do that.
The car inches forward slowly with the traffic like a giant metal caterpillar. That visual, of course, makes me snicker.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Mon Dieu, the toll booth lady-"
"I heard." Herc sounds like he's trying not to laugh.
"She sounded like Roz from Monsters Inc," another voice chimes in. I hear muffled laughter in the background.
"Oh, yeah. Laf, you're on speakerphone."
"I'm watching you, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Wazowski," John snarls in a dead-on impression. He coughs. "That hurt."
"Don't die," I banter, smiling at the center console. Then I make the mistake of looking at the road.
Merde.
It's packed.
"Uh, guys? The bridge is backed up. A lot."
Someone who I can assume is Alex groans. "I'm starving."
"You ate two hours ago!" I say indignantly as I pull up to the person in front of me.
"Not for breakfast," he whines. "I need a burger."
I slump in my seat and sigh. "I'm being punished for something."
"Nah," Herc says. "It's just New York."
"And to be fair it is the afternoon on a Saturday," Alex chimes in.
I wait for John's opinion.
"Yeah, you screwed up."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, John."
"I try."
Inch
Inch
Inch
GAHHH
Angelica swears in French.
"Is this some kind of sick joke?"
I sigh. "Am I being punished for something?"
"Maybe not you." Angie gazes out the window at the river below. "I hit a squirrel the other day."
I swing my gaze upward.
"Karma's a bitch, I guess."
She scowls at my choice of words.
We move at a measly pace.
The clock ticks minutes away.
Seems like the more time goes by the more I want to scream-
"What's that?" My sister whips her head around so fast she pulls a muscle. "Ow. Peg, do you hear that?"
I tick the ocean up
bit
by
bit
wee
weee
weeeeo
weeeeoooo
Weeeeoooooo
WEEEEEEEEOOOO
Car alarm?
No, it's too irregular.
WEEEEEEEEEEEOOOO
Sirens.
I realize how
e m p t y
the road has become.
Actually, it's not empty.
Everyone's pulled...
over…
And we're in the middle of the road…
Angelica hears the roaring engine before I do.
She grabs the steering wheel and yanks it towards her. "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
My heart skips a beat when the car follows suit, jerking violently to the right. It rocks on the tires, swaying like a
boat on water
before settling down with a jolt.
I only see the car after its zoomed past.
Dark silver and gleaming.
Tesla, I recognize the model.
And going at 80 miles per hour.
"Jesus Christ," Angelica says, hand over her heart.
"They'd better get caught."
I'm pulled over and freaking out.
Right up against the side of the bridge, every rock of the car feels like a death sentence.
My friends are screaming through the console.
"We're under attack! We're under attack!"
John wails like the sirens. "Wheeeeeeoooo, wheeeeeeoooo, whee-"
"LAF I JUST WANNA SAY," Herc screams dramatically, "THAT YOU'RE A GREAT FRIEND AND I LOVE YOU LIKE A BROTHER AND I HOPE THAT YOU WILL NEVER GIVE UP-"
"Just relax Laf!" Alex has to yell over the other two. "Take a deep breath-"
"There is a literal car chase going on, and you want me to relax?"
"There's a car chase?" John stops wailing. "Hey, it is like The Italian Job!"
"Oh that makes me feel better," I say sarcastically. "The driver swerved this close- hang on, my seatbelt."
The thing is digging into my chest. I unbuckle it and then realize my stupidity.
My seatbelt does this thing where I can't unlatch it unless I open the car door, get out of the car, pull out however much of the belt I need, and then get back inside.
I groan and open my car door to-
NYOOOOOOOMMMMM
You know those moments where time slows down and any/everything bad that's going to happen, happens?
That's what it's like to have your car door taken off.
All I hear is the engine and the sirens before a gray blur disassembles the driver's side door. The "WHAM" sound of metal on metal follows half a second later and actually has a bigger influence on me than the impact.
Basically my life flashes before my eyes, my heart drops into my stomach then bounces up to my throat, and I scramble/jump/fall/ leap backwards into the passenger seat with a screechy yelp.
I kind of lie stretched across the car, half sitting up and shaking. My heart is beating so fast it hurts.
"What the hell just happened?" Herc's voice sort of brings me back. "Laf? Laf? You okay?"
You know those stories of people lying in their own blood and not reacting in a panicked way whatsoever? I get it now.
Shock is one hell of a drug.
I know I'm supposed to respond. I just can't.
"Do you think he's dead?" John asks, his growing anxiety emphasizing every word. "This is my fault, I told him to drive, oh god if he's dead then this is on me. Oh god oh god oh Jesus-"
"John, calm down. I don't think he's dead." Alex, as usual, is the peacemaker. "Laf." It's not a question this time. It's a prompt. Laf, snap out of it.
I swallow. "Jesuiaccor-" Wrong language. "Imkaguyz." My own mouth feels foreign to me. "I'm alive, I promise. I just-"
"What? Are you hurt?" Alex's voice is strangely calm. John whimpers in the background.
"No, not physically. But you might want to cook something for lunch. I'm not going anywhere for awhile."
Author's Note: Yeah, this seems pretty plot device-y, but I'll be posting a little exposition chapter soon. Nothing too big, just to clear up some stuff. And I'll just remind you now- Laf and Peggy aren't complete strangers. They've vaguely known each other before this and have kind of simple, kind of shallow crushes on each other.
