A/N- Once more, the author does not endorse the opinions voiced by the characters, and takes no responsibility for them. So don't get mad at me- I don't necessarily believe all this stuff.

Kerouacing

Story by StormDancer

Chapter the Third

From the notes of Connor:

Ohio= Boring. Not really diff from home. Only things, outside of cities, are medical insurance, hotels, and “adult stores.” No dice getting in one of those, even though finally 18. Kevin (of course) forbids it- don’t know why I listen to him. Fucking Jesus. Why does he have to be so prudish? Not like he’s any better than me, with a hottie like Katlynn for his gf.

Meg didn’t approve either (still no surprise), but didn’t say anything. Could have convinced her, if Kevin didn’t act so high and mighty. But she gave me her “really?” look, which is always depressing and dampening. Totally killed the mood for five minutes. Then saw another sign for adult videos (funny how they’re never honest about it; always have to be PC. Depressing. Can’t they just say porn in those scarlet neon lights and admit it? Yet another example of the conquest of uniformity). Started trying to persuade them again. Epic fail.

Should just drag them into it. Would be amusing. Kevin would try not to look, staring straight at a whitewashed wall, his unfairly broad shoulders set and straight and tense. Meg’s face would turn bright red (maybe matching her hair? Unclear. That shade is so exact, like fire mixed with rust and shot through with gold, then soaked in a sunset. Did not just think that about Meg’s hair.) but she wouldn’t manage to stop herself from peeking at the garishly colored titles, or deciphering the lyrics of the inevitable raunchy song playing too loudly to ignore. Curse of curiosity- I should know. She’d still flee as soon as she could.

Would she beat Kevin out? Should time them. I’d bet on Kevin. He’s the baseball player, after all- good at sprints. Except everyone always thinks of him as hockey; he’s better on ice. Hmm… should experiment. Run races? Could tell them I set the van on fire or something. Except then race would consist of who could kill me first. ‘Cept Kevin might just shame me into confessing the lie. He’s irritatingly good at that.

It’s all white and blacks and yellow stripes,

Out on the every road

Where everything’s the same

And nothing ever changes

And the whole world’s cast on billboards and some cars.

-finish with people working in miniature fields? All the same fields?
Nature= co-opted by industry?
No people, just machines?

Things that annoy:

Kevin:

-Not much. Never seen him get really mad, at school or here. Including when me and Meg argued for, like, an hour about whether or not Thoreau was worth reading (he so is! What the hell she’s thinking, I don’t know. Obviously insane) and he couldn’t understand any of it, and we ignored him for the entire time.

-Insulting Katlynn or complimenting her. Makes no sense- I blame his stupid claims of love. All I said was that she has a nice ass- completely true. And if she didn’t want me to notice, she shouldn’t wear those tight jeans to school. But he gave me a whole sermon about respecting women and love and commitment. Wasn’t quite anger- just annoying. Especially with Meg giggling in the backseat, and adding her own opinion every once in a while. I do respect women- I respect how hot they can look, too. What else can you base a “relationship” on? His way’s so boring.

Meg:

-My humming. Can she not appreciate the Killers? Honestly. She should appreciate some music in a quiet car.

-Fundamentalism, apparently. When she ripped into Joe like that… She never had any real aggression in her at school, but must have repressed it, cause that was nasty. I almost felt sorry for him- except soooo amused.

-Talking about hot girls to often. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her how much the girl at that diner looks like that girl I hooked up with last year. But why would she care who I have or haven’t hooked up with. She never did before. I don’t think.

-Bad books, as she chucked one across the van earlier. Didn’t seem that bad to me when I glanced at it. But she muttered that “I could have written better than this crap.” Never heard her swear before. She writes? Should steal her notebook sometime, in interest of pursuit of truth. She might get mad- but she doesn’t have to know.

Just went through best county ever- Ashtabula. Don’t care if huge industry town (probably is); it’s still the best name ever. Maybe I could put it in a song? Sorta like tabula rasa, only ironically? Meg agrees with me about name- Kevin does too, just won’t admit it. He’s too stoic to get excited over place names. He’s also no fun. The facts probably aren’t coincidental.

Good car game that Meg introduced: must not use one letter of alphabet, starting with a and going down through when you mess up. Odd feeling Meg just proposed it to shut Kevin and me up; it def makes it much harder to talk. But I can’t understand why. Kevin hadn’t said a word in an hour, writing silently his novellas to Katlynn (how many times can you say I love you I love you I love you my dearest darlingest love?). And Meg wasn’t doing anything important, just staring out the window watching the ubiquitous fields and nothing new go by. Psh. Who needs a landscape when you can talk to people? Or to me?

I totally won the game.

Meg just glanced over my shoulder and pointed out in her annoyingly pedantic way that, officially, reaching the end of the alphabet first “does not constitute winning.” Yeah right. That’s what she thinks. She’s just jealous that I did it so fast, and it took her the longest to get there.

Screw it. Next time, I’m making up the game.

Apparently, name that song works better when the people you’re with know what good music actually is. All Kevin could guess was his stupid rap songs. And Meg trying to sing- I thought she was lying when she told me how tone deaf she was.

She wasn’t. It was painful. We’re back to gazing monotonously out the window, or at least she is. What is it about bookworms and looking at nothing? It’s all she does back home too, when she’s not in class or something; she zones out at thin air. I mean, I read- but you don’t catch me all dreamy-eyes, storm-cloud eyes going gentle (for once; does she ever stop arguing?) behind the glass veils that hide any deeper emotions from any voyeurs…

Going to pretend I didn’t write that, though is rather good. Just- not about Meg. Maybe put into song? It wouldn’t sound half. As long as it isn’t Meg. Girl wouldn’t know a good time if it bit her in the ass. Or a good song.

Neither would Kevin. He thinks I can’t tell- but I know he thinks I’m an idiot. He’s the real idiot. When has ‘Jesus’ ever had any non-scheduled fun? I feel badly for him. So what if I care more about having a good time than a future that’s so far away? Still got into college- and a good one. Gonna do more than he ever will. I’m going to change the world, one song at a time. Just he wait. Just everyone wait.

First fight- officially over. And, worse, exactly as bad as it could have been. They haven’t talked to me since it finished. And vice versa; hell if I’m going to apologize. I didn’t say anything wrong. Meg did that. And Kevin. Mainly the latter.

They’re sleeping now. We only got one room. Apparently, in Indiana, you can’t find cheap hotels, so Kevin jumped the gun and claimed the chivalrous thing, offering to sleep on the floor almost before we walked into the hotel. I would have offered, but Meg just passed right in front of me and tossed her hair like she assumed I would never ever sacrifice myself like that and that delayed me so much that Kevin spoke first.

But, for real, sleeping at- I have to check my- I don’t have a phone- sometime after midnight but before dawn? I’m not even sorta tired. And if they were at all fun they wouldn’t be either. Instead, I’m stuck writing instead of doing something actually interesting.

It was all Kevin’s fault. He started it; he escalated it. I really didn’t have anything to do with it. No, it was Ohio State’s fault- if we hadn’t stopped there, we would never have been in Columbus, never have gone to that restaurant, and it never would have started. Which brings me back to my original point: all Meg’s fault!

“You know,” she observed as we ate dinner at one of those cloned American food places- Fridays or Chilis or something- in a suburb of Columbus, which is basically as far as we’ve gotten today, because Kevin decided to wile away the hours when we could have been somewhere different talking to people on what I swear is the ugliest campus I have ever seen. “I don’t like tubular Mac and cheese as much as the shells.” I have no idea where that thought came from; none of us were eating macaroni and cheese.

Kevin, shoveling enchiladas into his mouth like a vacuum cleaner, inquired around a mouthful, “Wha?”

Meg studied her forkful of salad with much more concentration than I think it warranted. “The cylindrical ones never hold enough cheese. They only have what coats them. The shells have nice pools to collect the cheesy goodness in.”

“But the tubes have the whole hollow place,” I countered totally reasonably, putting down my veggie burger, “the cheese stays there.”

“It spills out if you turn the noodle the least bit.” The explanation was accompanied with a condescending, ironically helpful Look that included her dropping her glasses down to the bridge of her strongly boned nose and her eyes rolling up, so that even though she looked at me she seemed to be asking God ‘what did I do to deserve this?’ Even if the words were fairly innocent, the whole body language, the lazy drawl of her usually calm voice spoke of mocking elitism.

I don’t feel stupid often. Compared to my friends, I’m a fucking genius. But that tone, as crystal cold as a diamond stalagmite dripping from the ceiling of a salt cave (good line, though I don’t know where it came from)… ouch. Just ouch.

“Well, I’m sorry, Miss. Know-It-All,” I muttered into my burger, too low for her to hear. I wouldn’t start a fight.

It seemed to work; she stopped talking and her lips quirked a little bit, like she was trying not to laugh. And if Kevin had let it go, I would have smiled at her, and she would have grinned sheepishly, and peace would have reigned.

But he couldn’t.

“Leave her alone,” he protested stodgily. Meg’s eyes widened, as surprised as me. “What did she do to you?”

Hey, if Kevin wanted a fight that badly, I wasn’t going to disappoint him, not when he had challenged me that blatantly. I wouldn’t have been shocked if he had pulled out a gauntlet form somewhere and slapped me with it. “She insulted me!” I replied bluntly, dropping my sandwich. He set down his fork. Meg glanced between us, wary but skeptical, tolerant but impatient.

“How?” Who knew Jesus could sound like he was going to set me on fire? Than again, didn’t he have some thing with the money-changers?

“She called me an idiot!”

Meg leapt in to defend herself. “I did not!”

Kevin spoke right over her, too anxious to play knight in shining armor to listen to her. “So what if she did? It’s not an insult if it’s the truth.” Looking back, I mean, no. There’s so much wrong with that statement, I’m almost ashamed for him for saying that. Almost.

I was on my feet before I knew it, and my voice was rising with all the volume singing and acting has ever taught me. Probably not the best move in a public space, but i was far past caring. I was angry. We both were. “It’s not the truth!”

He surged to his feet, topping me by at least half a foot. I refused to be intimidated. Muscle has nothing over mind. “Yes it is!” He had years of screaming commands on a field; it carried.

“No it’s not-” Meg grabbed our wrists and yanked before I could finish, dragging us both back down with surprising strength. I couldn’t have done it; Kevin must be over two hundred pounds of solid muscle and I’m no weakling. Her arms are like sticks! Well, no, they’re fairly well proportioned for a girl who doesn’t do any sports, but still. Maybe it was just shock value; we weren’t braced.

Whatever way, we were both on our asses before we registered what had happened. “You will not,” she hissed, teeth clamped together so tightly I’m shocked she could force sound out between them, “make a scene here. You will finish dinner like civilized people, pay, and go back to the van- and then, if necessary-” she made it quite clear that she did not think it was necessary- “you can have it out there.”

Her sudden authority so shocked me and Kevin that we obeyed. Kevin swallowed once, then but on his ‘Jesus’ face of universal benediction, and I’m perfectly capable of pretending civility for an hour. Meg was right, after all; we didn’t want to disturb anyone. And I did not want my dirty laundry aired in front of an entire restaurant, or the cute waitress who had been giving me the eye all evening. So we both managed to contain ourselves- Meg was the worst at acting like nothing had happened. She kept darting looks between us like we were about to explode.

Which we did, but, as per her orders, not til we were back at the van. Then, “So, I’m an idiot, am I?” I demanded, maybe more belligerently than I could have.

“Yeah, you are,” Kevin agreed, and his voice boiled like the ocean. “You really are. You do nothing with your life, you waste away everything drinking or smoking or going out. You- hell, you failed out of school! Yes! You’re a freakin idiot!”

I took a step forward, not caring that he was at least a hundred pounds heavier than me and could probably bench press me. “I’m sorry if I like to have fun,” I spat back, my fingers clenching around the guitar pick I had just found in my pocket. “Yes. I drink. I smoke. I have sex- but at least I can say it! I debauch myself in all possible ways, and maybe I did leave school for a year. But hell, who gives a fucking damn? At least I’ve been enjoying myself! I’m not going to some yuppie school that’s all the fucking same and has no creativity anywhere and is filled with people who have no idea what to do if they’re not ordered around. I’m not going to be stuck in an industrial-suburban wasteland without a patch of green in it! I didn’t waste away the last four years of my life doing drudgework like you’re going to do for the rest of your life. I had fun. I lived, really lived! And that’s more important than all your fancy books or working or sitting holed up in your room with only a computer screen for company.”

I really don’t like it when people call me stupid.

Kevin opened his mouth to retort, his chest expanding like a windbag, but the parry came from a different source.

“So that’s all people who aren’t in your crowd did in high school, is it?” Meg inquired, sickly sweet, lightning flashing through the clouds of her eyes. “We all just stared at screens, all alone with no friends, constantly working? Because that’s the only way we could have done so well where you failed, isn’t it? It couldn’t be your own fault, no. You can’t conceive of anyone being able to have a life and succeed in school. And you didn’t bother to notice us having fun anyway- yes, we did have fun! If not your kind.”

She stepped forward, and though I’m taller than her by a good few inches, I almost cowered beneath the fury shooting out of her pointing, accusing finger. Except I didn’t, because she was so wrong. “Let me tell you something, Connor. I have friends. I have a life. I don’t need to lose myself in drugs or alcohol to enjoy myself. My friends and I aren’t the absolute nerds you think we are, just because we do well in school where you can’t. So don’t make those goddamn generalizations-” hypocrite, anyone? “-about people who achieve, okay. It’s not our lifestyles that do it. We’re just smarter than you.”

She spun on her heel (slapping me with the ends of her hair, just to add insult) and stalked over to the other side of the car, yanking the passenger door open, sliding in, and slamming it closed. Kevin Looked at me with a painfully self-righteous expression that clearly admonished me that “That’s what you get for insulting her and I hope you’re satisfied,’ before he got into the driver’s seat, leaving me the back seat all to my lonesome.

Those were the last words spoken, except when Meg informed me that it was my turn to drive, at which point they both moved to the back so they stayed as far away from me as possible.

But she’s just wrong! I know I’m just as smart as all her friends. Fine. Most of her friends. A few- her included- have me beat. But if I had wanted to, I could have done just as well as them in school. I just had other priorities. And I don’t regret them. I succeeded in a much more attractive field.

A world without masks

Is a world without shame

Without horrors to disguise

Or eyes that can’t be met.

It’s seeing others for what we are

And not for what we seem-

It’s a beautiful dream.