To Kansas We Go
By Amanda Miller
Third Place, 2011 Fluency Factory Summer Fiction Competition

“How was your summer?”  It’s always the first question asked on the first day of school, and, sadly, one is always inclined to answer.  For years I have been forced to lie about my vacation experiences, crafting a fascinating (and entirely fictitious) tale of beaches and ice cream and sleep-away camp.  If pressed for further details, I simply smile at my conversational partner and request that they fill me in on their own summer.  People love to talk about themselves, after all, and I use this to my advantage.

Every year since I can remember (and even before then), my entire family- including all six of my siblings- has taken a two-month long trip to Nana’s house in Kansas.  It’s a pretty long car ride from where we live, in Massachusetts, and it’s excruciatingly boring once we get there.  There’s simply nothing to do!  Considering I have six siblings, the television is frequently taken, and there’s nowhere to go without driving, either.  I can guarantee you, no one at my school wants to hear about that kind of vacation.

I was determined to change this year’s summer for the better.

I informed my mother of this decision on the second-to-last day of school, when my brain was appropriately muddled due to the influence of my final exams.  Instead of lulling me into a post-traumatic state of sleep, I was persuaded by my irrational mind into approaching my mother about the possibility of me not going on the trip to Nana’s.  The conversation was rather short.

“Absolutely not,” she told me.  She coughed into her elbow before stalking off in the other direction.

I was defeated.  A week passed, and before I knew it, my salvation had arrived.  It was the morning we were set to leave for Nana’s, and everyone but my older sister Sadie and I had come down with a horrendous virus.  I was thrilled, and soon believed, mistakenly, that I could convince my bedridden parents to call off the whole trip.  Clearly, fate did not want us to embark on this journey, so why should we?

“Why don’t you and Sadie go along for us?” my mother suggested as she sniffled.  “Sadie needs practice driving, and you’ll be with her the entire time, so nothing will go wrong.  You know Nana would be heartbroken otherwise.”  I wanted to fight back, but I could not refuse her request.

The bags were loaded into the car within the hour, and my sister and I filed into the driver’s and passenger’s seats, respectively.  We were warned about traffic, the possibility of tornadoes, and advised to lock the car if we ever left it for some reason.  We waved as the car backed out of the driveway, neither of us saying a word.

Before we continue, I should mention that my sister has narcolepsy- a sleep disorder characterized by randomly falling asleep.  There’s probably a more scientific explanation of it out there, but that’s basically what it is.  Due to this, she has precedence over everything while she’s driving- to prevent her from falling asleep, I have to listen to her music, at an ungodly volume, as well as hear to her sing along to it.  And, every so often, I have to make conversation with her, to see how she’s doing.  However, I’m in such an angry mood that day that I couldn’t be bothered.  As soon as I heard the high-pitched moaning blasting from the speakers (some like to call it ‘opera’), I quickly put my headphones in, closed my eyes and attempted to take a nap.

And yet I could still hear her music.  Sadie’s sole goal in life was to become a world-renowned opera singer, and she liked to practice her craft while she was in the car.  Five hours passed, and suddenly her singing faded out.  I ripped off my headphones, hitting her shoulder.

“What was that for? I was resting my vocal chords!” she screamed.

“I was making sure you wouldn’t fall asleep!”

“I’m absolutely fine!  I’m a good driver, I don’t need your assistance,” she said in a very pretentious tone, flipping her hair exaggeratedly.  I rolled my eyes.

“Shouldn’t we stop soon?  I’m starving,” I complained.

Sadie didn’t answer, but before I knew it, we were swerving off the next exit, in the direction of an area claiming to have a place to eat.  We stopped at at an old, rundown building, with flickering neon lights telling us that it was a ‘Diner.’  A disgruntled middle-aged waitress greeted us once we got inside, tossing a pair of beat-up menus in our general direction.  She took our order joylessly- I asked for a soda and fish and chips, Sadie for an iced tea and caesar salad.  The food was nothing spectacular, but definitely edible, and our check arrived shortly after our places were cleared.

Sadie seemed to realize something. “Uh...” she said to no one in particular.

“What?  You have the money, right?”

“Yes, but it’s in the car.”

“Well, get it.  I’ll stay here until you get back.”

She returned ten minutes later, looking stricken.  “I don’t know what to do,” she said quietly.

“The money was in the glove compartment! Do I need to get it for you?”

“It’s not that.”  She paused.  “I think... we were robbed.”

“What?  How could we have been robbed?  You locked the car, didn’t you?”

“Uh... not exactly.  I didn’t think it was necessary, there was no one in the parking lot...”

“So we have no money,” I said, more to myself than to her.  Only one solution came to mind.  I quickly glanced at the waitress, who was engaged in a heated discussion with the chef.  I rose from my seat, walking in the direction of the door.

“What are you-”

“Just come on!” I whispered.  Sadie caught on, following me out the door.  We were on the road again before she said anything.

“We’re... criminals,” she whispered, declining to turn on her music.  The shock of our deed was keeping her more than awake.  “How could you do that?”

“We’ll send them a check once we get to Nana’s.  You remember the name of the restaurant?”

She nodded, continuing to drive.  A few more hours passed, and it was completely dark, yet there was an unbelievable amount of traffic on the road.  So much so that we were all but stationary inside our car.  Sadie eventually received a call from one of her friends.

“A tornado? Is there any chance of us being hit?”  Silence.  “Well, when do you predict we’ll get out of this traffic?”  She yawned.  Another bout of silence.  “Okay, thanks, bye.”  She threw her phone into the backseat, sinking into the driver’s seat and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel vigorously.  “The entire road’s backed up to a tornado,” she said after a moment or two.  “And we’re not even in Kansas yet!”

Now, up until this point, dear reader, this had not been the worst road trip I had ever been through.  However, it was soon to become one of my life’s most horrific experiences.  I had since forgotten about our little dine n’ dash (that’s what my Nana calls it, anyway) at the restaurant, although I was honestly intending to send a check for our unpaid meals.

A police officer, who was apparently walking on the highway, starting to bang on Sadie’s window, an angry expression on his face.  I reached over and rolled her window down, confused by my sister’s unresponsiveness.

“Did you dine at Dany’s Diner in Wompahucket off Route 96 earlier this evening?” he said rather forcefully, with a thick Southern accent.

“Uh...” I looked to Sadie, who had, of course, fallen asleep.  “Yes? How do you know?”

“Your license plate was recorded after you and your... cohort walked out of the restaurant without paying for your meals.  You are aware that that was an incident of theft?”

I wanted to shake Sadie awake, but I was afraid of invoking any more charges against myself.  “Yes,” I said quietly.

We were taken to the local jail, and my Nana, to her dismay, had to pick up us up the next morning.  Let’s just say that it did not end well.  Trust me when I say this, the rest of my summer was not an improvement upon the events of the disastrous road trip with Sadie.  So, when I return to school, I will once again have to make up a myth about my awesome vacation.