That Way We Cope with That Thing Called Life - Part 4

I sat beside Imogen in the way way back. The sound of many tires on the rough road assaulted our ears beneath the din of my mother’s favorite CD, which played on repeat. It was about the fourth time we’d heard that particular song, and its lyrics slurred together in my mind as I looked out the window at trees and bushes and cars whose shapes all slurred together, too.

“I see an Alabama!” my little brother Tommy screeched, yanking me back into the reality of the too-big car.

“I wish my brother would shut of for three minutes!” I responded loudly.

“Samantha!” my mother scolded from the driver’s seat. I wouldn’t say I yelled at Tommy, but apparently my mother took it that way.

“It’s true,” I muttered, gazing through slits of eyes at the headrest in front of me. I guessed my tone was a little mocking, but who cared? He could use some thicker skin.

I saw Imogen giggling to herself through the corner of my eye. “What? He was asking for it,” I said, only this time jokingly.

“Oh, nothing. It was my book, that’s all.” The smile is faded, and the air between us seems to buzz with electricity from words I didn’t mean to come out the way they evidently did.

“That’s fine. Don’t look so down,” I said. “What book is that?”

“To Kill a Mockingbird,” Imogen responded, closing her book part of the way so that I could see the cover.

“Oh. I think we were supposed to read that a year or two ago for school. I just used Cliffs Notes.” I leaned forward to rummage through the pocket in the seat in front of me. “I’m impressed that you would actually read something like that for fun.” I found The Breakfast Club and pulled it out triumphantly before passing it to Tommy. “Stick this in, would you?”

“Eww, a girl movie,” Tommy sneered. He loaded it into the van’s built-in DVD player anyways.

“You’ve never even seen that movie,” I said.

“Have to!”

“Then you would know it’s not a girl movie.” My response was met with a snicker from my father that elicited a scold from my mother. I honestly thought she probably would have preferred that nobody talk all the way to the beach, but that wasn’t going to happen. I shifted my attention back to Imogen. “As I was saying, I’m impressed you would read something like that in your free time for . . . fun. I clearly just watch movies.”

“All you have to do is give it a chance. I’m pretty sure you would actually enjoy reading if you just tried it.”

“I still just don’t get how you could love books.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll explain it to you. We have the whole summer, after all.” With that and a little grin, she opened her book and began to read again. I shifted my focus to the movie playing on the small screen toward the front of the car, but I couldn’t manage to keep my focus. My mind just kept wandering.