Nothing Special by Geoff Herbach Page A

transportation because I’ll be going back and forth from campus to the Motel 6 where I’m staying all week. So, I’ll be driving.”
    â€œYeah! Pretty great, huh, Jerri?” I piped in. Gus sort of kneed me in the thigh.
    â€œI’ll be driving, so really Felton should just catch a ride with me,” Gus said. “No reason for us to pump double the carbon dioxide into the air. I guess more like quadruple, really, since you’ll be driving back to Bluffton, then returning to Ann Arbor to pick Felton up.”
    This was very smooth operating by Gus. Best way to break a nice person like my mom is to make her think doing what she really wants to do is going to harm the environment and stop all future generations from existing.
    Jerri shook her head, put her hands on her hips, and looked up at the ceiling. She said, “I was really looking forward to this drive for some reason.”
    Of course, I knew why. I didn’t know know (didn’t think they were going to be like…boyfriend and girlfriend), but I knew she wanted to see your dad. Before Gus could stop me from talking, I said, “Jerri, I think maybe you should just visit Ronald this weekend even if I’m not with you. You could stay a couple of days, then help him move stuff back here for the summer session.”
    Jerri looked at me. Squinted a little. “You think, Felton?”
    â€œOh, yeah. If I could visit Aleah, I sure as hell would,” I said. (I really didn’t know they were becoming a couple!)
    â€œNice language, son,” Jerri said. “Maybe I will.”
    â€œChicago’s not far,” Gus said.
    â€œShut up, Gus,” Jerri said. “Enough rhetoric, okay?”
    â€œHuh?” Gus said, as if he didn’t know.
    This was definitely the weekend when our parents became an official unit, Aleah. You have my lying to thank for it.
    Anyway, it was a done deal. There. We did it. Gus was driving me to Ann Arbor, except not to Ann Arbor at all.
    Out on our driveway Gus whispered, “What’s up with Jerri? She’s kind of mean these days.”
    True. Jerri was not acting the part of the Jerri I’d known my whole life. This was not a bad thing. “I think she’s snapping out of the depression she’s been in for like eleven years, maybe. I don’t know, exactly.”
    â€œOh,” Gus said. “I like it.”
    So, we were all set up with lies and bull crap, all set to hit the road. Apparently I have enough courage to seriously, crazily lie to my mom, even if I’m scared to go to a camp by myself.
    â€¢ • •
    Oh Jesus, Aleah, the plane is bouncing up and down. I think we’re possibly crashing. Seriously. The big dude just spilled a tiny bottle of wine all over himself. This is a disaster. Oh God. Jesus.
    Turbulence. The big guy smiled at me. “F-bombing turbulence.” Now he’s reading what I’m writing: Hello, man. My name is Felton .
    He just said, “Hiya, Felton!” I think he’s had four tiny bottles of wine.
    No, only three. “Three, Felton!” he said.
    He is saying out loud anything I type.
    I’m a big, drunk jerk!
    He didn’t say that.
    Sorry .
    He said it’s okay.
    The girl with the zombie book is laughing. Why can’t she be my girlfriend, Aleah? She’s right here. She’s cute.
    Sorry. I don’t mean it.
    The man just read that whole thing out loud to the girl. She laughed at me.
    I’m going to close the computer.

August 16th, 2:35 p.m.
On the Way to Charlotte, Part II
    The big drunk guy is snoring like Grandma Berba when she has a cold.
    Chainsaw McGraw.
    I almost fell asleep, but then the little girl in front of me moved her chair back and smashed my knees at the same moment my favorite big drunk ripped on his chain saw. I woke thinking I was in a horror movie (with zombies chain-sawing through the door of the tiny, smashed closet I’m hiding in).
    No.