Author's Note: I'm sorry if this is kind of confusing. If it is, let me know I'll try to fix it. Sasha is the main character. Sash is pronounced Sosh when it's by it's self. (Like posh only Sosh.)
Saturday 12:00 PM
Sasha Hendrickson sat on her front steps watching her friend, Dylan try to load suitcases and duffel bags into the trunk. She was going on a road trip with her friends. They'd had it planned for a long time. Ever since they were kids, they'd wanted to go to Hollywood, and be on the Price Is Right.
There were eight of them going. Sasha, Dylan, Kevin, Kayla, Brandon, Jack, Tiffani and Morgan. They'd been friends for years. No one really understood why, but that didn't matter to them.
Dylan swore, pulling out suitcases and duffle bags, throwing them on the driveway.
"Hey, D'. Try suitcases first!" Sasha called with a smile. Dylan didn't say anything, just did as told, which surprised Sasha. He was the outspoken perv of the group. He as rude to almost everyone and was known for that.
Her neighbor, Brandon walked across the lawn and sat next to her, watching Dylan with a grin on his face.
"He won't let you help?" he guessed.
"Nope. Wants to be and I quote 'the man of the group who can do anything' unquote."
"That's Dylan for you. Kayla inside?"
"Yeah. She's on the phone with Kev. Wants to make sure he's ready. You know her, always have to be on schedule."
"She should be out here supervising Dylan," Brandon smiled, his blue eyes lighting up.
"Hey I heard that fuck face!" Dylan called.
"Good, you were meant to!" Brandon called back. Suddenly a car horn blared out. Tiffani was sitting in the passenger seat of Brandon's car.
"They're ready," Brandon replied. "Get Kayla. Looks like Dylan's almost done."
"I did it!" Dylan called.
"Bout time!" Sasha called.
"Hey, Sash," Dylan said, stepping out from behind the car. "Suck this," he grabbed himself.
"Suck what?" Sasha asked, "From what I've heard, there's nothing there." She walked up to the door, and called through to Kayla that they were leaving. She turned back around, bumping into Dylan.
"I can prove that otherwise," he said quietly. Sasha swallowed. Unfamiliar emotions were surging through her, making her want things. Want Dylan. It was kind of scary.
"Sure you can, Sparky," Sasha replied sarcastically, covering her fear up. She walked past him to the car. She got into the driver's seat and watched as Dylan walked over, opened the passenger side door and got in. Kayla still wasn't coming. Sasha honked the horn and a second later, Kayla bounded out the door.
Sasha ignored Dylan and drove to their friend Kevin's house. Kevin was waiting. Sasha popped the trunk, and after Kevin had stuffed his bags in, he climbed into the backseat with Kayla.
"Kayla, call Morgan. Ask if we're using route one or two," Sasha replied. They'd had two routes that they could take. They were basically the same, only one was a few hours quicker.
Five minutes later, Kayla had disconnected the cell phone call and announced route one. They were leaving the small town in the dead center of the lower peninsula of Michigan and going west to California. They were stopping in Minneapolis to stay with Sasha's aunt and then on to Hollywood.
"Pull over Sash."
"Why?" Sasha glanced at Dylan.
"Because I fuckin' said so!" he said.
"D', we'll lose time," Kayla said, trying to make peace.
"Fuck time. Pull over!"
Kevin was in the backseat, asleep. Sasha didn't' know how he could sleep through this.
"Because if you don't, I'm gonna fuckin' hurl all over your car!" Dylan said loudly. Sasha looked at him, saw that he was serious and pulled over. Dylan opened the door and walked a few feet over toward the ditch. A moment later, Brandon drove by them. Kayla was practically in tears. She couldn't stand to have anyone mad at her. Especially when all she was trying to do was help. The cell phone that Kayla had with her rang.
Soon, the sounds of Dylan barfing could be heard. It sounded like it hurt. Five minutes later, Dylan was still barfing. Sasha got out of the car and walked cautiously around the car toward Dylan, who was kneeling on all fours.
"Dylan?" she walked up to him and kneeled down beside him. She placed a hand on his sweater clad back and started rubbing, trying to soothe him. Her mother had done that whenever she was sick.
"I feel like shit," he said.
"I imagine you do." He sat back on his heels. Sasha was still rubbing his back. "You okay?"
"I think so."
"You done hurling?" Sasha asked.
"I fuckin' hope so," Dylan remarked. Sasha stood up, held her hand out and helped him up. She reached into her pocket, handed him a tissue, and then led him back to the car.
Moments after Sasha started the car and was back on the road, Dylan fell asleep. They drove by Brandon, who had pulled over to wait for them. She continued driving. They were roughly four hours away from her aunt's house. Her aunt was at her cabin, so the house would be all theirs.
Sasha sang along quietly with Limp Bizkit on the radio, looking for her turn off the highway. Her aunt lived about forty minutes from Minneapolis, outside a town called Red Wing.
"You can sing louder if you want," came Dylan's voice from the seat next to her. Sasha nearly screamed. Instead she glared at him.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Since you changed the station after that boy band song."
"They're called 98 Degrees," Sasha informed him.
"Yeah whatever. Are we almost there?"
"As soon as I find County 51 Boulevard," Sasha replied. "There it is!" she said. She signaled to turn, and then after a pickup truck turned ahead of her, she went. "That's my cousin," she nodded to the truck in front of her. She could feel Dylan's eyes on her.
"I'm sorry about earlier . . ."
"No problem. If I'd known you were sick, I would've pulled over sooner. Sorry."
"You don't have anything to be sorry for."
"Sure I do. You just don't know what for," Sasha said quietly. She pulled into her aunt's driveway, followed by Brandon a few moments later.
"Sasha," Dylan said as she started to get out of the car. "I . . ."
"Are we there yet?" Kevin asked waking up.
"Yeah, Kev. Get up. There are real beds inside."