There Yet?

Even though it was Elise’s car, she knew she was only the driver. Kyle was riding shotgun, crammed into the front seat, all elbows and knees, leaning against the door with his face turned toward the sunlight streaming through the open window. Marsh and Cody were crammed into the back seat, studiously ignoring each other.

Technically, Elise was the road trip DJ. After all, it was her car, her stereo - that she’d paid for with her own gig money - and her iPod.

“Let Kyle choose the next song,” Cody said. The way he deferred to Kyle just because of who Kyle sang for was downright pathetic, but Elise sometimes found herself deferring to Kyle as well. It had more to do with his own presence than with Gabriel hanging over him, but still, deference to Kyle was a natural reaction in almost anyone.

Almost.

Because Marsh was rolling a pair of dice in one hand and grinning wickedly in the rearview mirror, and by some not-magical but certainly supernatural coincidence Elise’s iPod shuffle kept turning up songs that Marsh liked – songs that no one else liked.

Elise had a rule about long car rides – driver’s iPod was the source of music, but prior to the journey every passenger could contribute a playlist, and whoever was riding shotgun had the ultimate veto power. That Marsh was using Tabris to play the odds in his favor, knowing Kyle’s indifference to most music, was downright annoying.

It didn’t help that all of the green highway signs seemed to be saying the same thing: they were no closer to their destination than they had been an hour ago. Elise knew it wasn’t true, but the mileage numbers on the signs were downright intimidating. Add to the fact that Cody and Marsh were glaring daggers at each other in the back seat while Kyle sunned himself like a gangly puppy and Elise was being aurally assaulted by the likes of Lady Gaga, and Elise found herself saying,

“Are we there yet?”

Pink flooded the speakers, and Marsh bobbed his head, smirking victoriously. Cody groaned and closed his eyes. Kyle turned away from the sun, and he said,

“This is interesting. Who’s singing?”

Elise had to resist the urge to bang her head against the steering wheel. “Next stop, Cody’s driving and I’m shotgun,” she said.

“But I don’t have a license.”

“I don’t care!”

(400 words)