Scenes and Sound

The boy driving is a maniac. He his gangly and bordering on sickeningly skinny. He has hair that bounces up to brush the ceiling of the car. His black springs press against cigarette burns on the fabric-y interior. I feel justified in proclaiming him nuts since he is my best female friends ex- fling. He was a tornado of intellect and anger. The other two boys in the car could combine to make him. One equally skinny and dark and the other small and hobbit-ish but with thick tumbling hair and a charming face. I sit my knees nearly hitting my chin trying to contort around the limited leg room hair whipping into the face of the boy, the stocky one, Andrew, next to me. The windows are done because there is a heat wave oozing through the east coast and the air conditioning in the car is broken. The music is everything around us. It is turned up past maximum to challenge the barking wind and tired motors of cars on the highway. Brandon had called me and asked if I wanted to drive to Hershey. There is nothing to do in Hershey we are driving the hour and a half there to drive the hour and a half back. I said yes because slow sloppy summer days were piling up and I needed something to do for the memory.