with eight of us crammed into the van, it makes no sense for us to pull over. it's a field trip or something, all i know is that the brother and sister are fighting over who sits next to each other. not like that, though, they want to be together.
we don't pull over when the train comes, we just keep going through and it's a good thing. we make it to the art department just in time - it's outdoors, with playground equipment like it's some kind of free-form art expression. it's not, because the woman claiming to be in charge thinks we're all someone else. luckily we don't set her straight, it's easier this way.
we're supposed to create a video introducing something or selling something else, but instead we stay in the van and document everything with pictures. we figure out how to stay away, but the whole thing looks like trouble. turns out it is trouble, all skipped lines and angry sentences. the woman in charge has terrible hair and and sense of power that doesn't exactly hold true with the orders she barks.
it takes another van to roll up almost casual, and from there things go to hell or better, depending who's side we look at. ours, we're great, because we figure the distraction is enough - and it is - and we blow them out of the water doing whatever it is we do. we duck when the others try to document it, because honestly we don't need any of that. we go down to the river, stained rust red and clear to see the rocks by the shore, get out of the van and figure out what to do next. we're not exactly running but not safe either, and while max tries to swim across the river we all figure it's easier to drive the van over a bridge. then we'll go.

and clearly you're not, because

You're driving the car named Jericho, in the middle of some mid-western town, at the end of some mid-western driveway, halfway under the shade of a tree. It's just about to give up to summer, because the leaves it still has are a sickly sort of green, high on the branches.

Anyway, the windows are rolled up because there isn't a breeze, and even though your stifling hot - your shirt is sticking to your back and you can't touch the top of the steering wheel in the sun - you're ok because it won't be long now.

It actually isn't, but not in the way you're thinking or expecting. Instead you see this guy come up, this guy named talbeck or beckal and this is bad, and you can't remember how to turn the key and look away and drive all at the same time, and he's knocking on your window before you can do any of the above.

You roll down somewhat reluctantly, keeping your face towards the glove compartment and your hand ready on the stick. The car's idling now, a steady ready rumble that's familiar and reassuring.

He asks you something, something like are you ok or is everything all right or do you need some help or something that you shake your head no to even though you don't hear him properly, tapping your tongue ring against the back of your teeth.

Eventually he goes to reach in the classic, one hand on the door and one hand too close to your skin underneath your jacket, probably to shake your shoulder to see if you're actually listening or whatever it is he's planning on doing - you don't find out.

Instead you punch the brake, nearly forget about the clutch, and jerk the car awkwardly into first because you're not down with the standard, not like you pretend to be. Jericho falls, and you fall with it, down a dusty gravel side road somewhere in the mid-west.

We take the classics down to Niagara falls. The slope it's kind of steep, and if I hold my breath on the way down I can't breathe right once we get to the bottom. Luckily (or unfortunately, however you look at it) we're making record time since we left everyone else behind.
Fletch is younger than me, here, and his dad's the one with the Jericho license plate. There's a younger brother, the one who crashed into the sidewalk and nearly split his head open. I helped him with that, because I was there and quick on my feet and now we're all together in the blue Camaro. Fletch is riding shotgun and I'm in the back with Mig. I didn't bring anything with me and I couldn't say no because I never got the chance, but they all seem to be all right so maybe it's going to be all right.
Except then we stop at a truck stop at the bottom of the falls.

there;s road hockey & slices of cheese.
i go to the craft store out on the highway during my lunch break and somehow things go different from there.
i'm looking at the paintbrushes when this girl--this girl who's lost her parents or maybe they aren't there, but she's got like this nanny or something - and we start talking, and i think we get along even if we give each other this hard time.
the nanny, though? he's big and rude and immediately doesn't like me so i just ignore him mostly, right until the store clerk starts offering him paintbrushes and shit like that. later i hit the guy in the face because i think he's possessed but he still won't hit a girl, and i pretty much own his soul in the middle of the beadery aisle. after that, i go play road hockey with my new friend the store clerk (who looks like charlie, but i'm not sure if it is) and we sit around & watch tv facing the window, and i know that something's coming for us so i try to stay out of the light. we get through the entire show that we're watching and nothing yet, but i'm still not sure.

NO ONE SLEEPS MUCH ANYMORE