“So,” I ignore the squabbling in the back seat and try again, “right or left?”
“Straight.” Says the The Brat
“Straight.” Echoes Mom
I give them a baffled look, but sis is draped, ass up, over the passenger seat and mom doesn't look in my direction. For a moment, I ignore the chattering duo to concentrate on the view.
Reno is caught in the midst of a heatwave and the campus parking lot shimmers in the late afternoon sun. Clouds drift by. A hawk soars high above the gorge. If I wait long enough, one of them will notice the car hasn't moved.
When they don't, I thunk my forehead against the steering wheel and mutter. “Right or left?”
“Straight.” They shout.
Through clenched teeth, I try again. “Right. Or. Left.”
The Brat swivels in her seat, gives me the stink eye and stabs her finger at the windshield. “Straight,” she demands, “and I need to be there before noon.”
“Yup.” I drawl, as Mom gets ready to defend her baby. “I understand you wish to go straight, but, the road only goes right or left.”
“Kelly …” Splutters Mom.
“Huh.” Says Brat.
After a minute, I roll my eyes, engage the gears and pull away from the curb. “I should have stayed home.”
Brat stares down her nose. “You could have asked for directions.”
“I did.” Her fine brows arch into her hairline. I shake my head and repeat myself. “Right or left?”
“Straight.” They shout and dissolve into giggles.