Ch. 1

I begin writing this WIP after undergrad but before the pandemic (I don’t know when exactly I started this), however, I wanted to share more of my unfinished works with you all this summer. In this WIP It’s Summer, Zhara is home from college for the summer, just wanting to relax and forget this past semester. However, her plans get screwed when her father plans an unexpected cruise and suddenly her summer is looking a little less relaxed. Enjoy.

"Finally packed!" I shoved the last bag into the trunk of my Beetle.

"I can't believe we got all your stuff into this tiny car," Marcy, my best friend, chimed in.

"I know. We are amazing. Who needs men?"

"We don't, that's who!" She high-fived me. "So how are you going to drive this thing?" She questioned.

That was a good question. We had packed the car to the brim, so much so that there was no way I could see in the rear view mirror, nor would I be able to move the gear stick from park to drive. And there was the whole ordeal of getting into the car. I had the seat pushed so far up, there was barely any room for me to slide into it.

"You know what?" I began as I moved some things around, grabbing bags from the driver’s seat before stuffing them in every crevice I could find in the backseat, passenger side, and truck. Finally clearing up some space in the front, I pushed my seat back in place, making sure it latched in place as I stepped back giving myself a triumphant nod. “Perfect!” 

"If anyone could do it, it was going to be you." Marcy beamed. 

Marcy and I met at a RA program to learn how to "college." Seriously, that's what the flyer said. Marce, that's what I sometimes called her, were surprised at how many girls didn’t know how to use the washing machines. We only came for the free food. Well, I went because my RA dragged me out of my room. We both just clicked, and were inseparable ever since.

"So what are your plans for the summer?" She asked.

I didn't have an answer to that question. All I wanted for the summer was to kick back and chillax, but knowing my militant father and nosy mother, they'd have plans for me for sure. But I didn't want to tell Marcy that. So I lied and said "Oh you know, traveling here and there, visiting family."

Although now that I've thought about it, my father would drag me all over creation to see relatives I either didn’t remember meeting or have never met.

"What about you?" I prompted before Marce had a chance to question it further.

"Oh, visiting relatives in Virginia, so we might go to Kings Dominion while we're there. Then we'll probably go to the mountains to camp. Nothing special." She shrugged.

Nothing special? Marcy's summer sounded exciting. Not that I cared for theme parks or camping but that sounded way better than lazing the summer away.

Yet when I thought about it, her summer didn't sound any different from mine. We were both going to see family and travel. Hers was just more specific than mine.

"Well, have fun." I hugged her. "And don't forget to write," I joked.

"Everyday. I'll have my pigeons on stand by," she joked back.

It was just between me and her. Our professor for our journalism class complained that our generation didn't write letters anymore and that's why we didn't know how to write. He was an older man and claimed that texting was killing our brains. And Marcy and I joked that we'd write letters everyday, even going so far as to say we'd send carrier pigeons if the mail failed. We never did send each other letters. But for the record, we both texted in full complete sentences and correct grammar, so I felt like that counted.

Marcy and I hugged one last time before I hopped in my car, speeding off into the sun.

Two hours later, and lots of profane language to no one who could hear me, I pulled into my driveway. As soon as I unbuckled my seatbelt, my phone started vibrating and I knew immediately who it was.

I had a rule when I drove: no cellphone usage while driving. Texting and driving was never a thing when I got my learners permit but it soon became an issue around my senior year. Thus it was important to me to not have my phone distract me while driving. So I would always put my phone on vibrate and place it in the center console. Only touching it during a red light or whenever I stopped to get gas or food.

My mom also had a rule: that I call her as soon as I left and when I arrived. That morning, I called to say what time I was planning to come home today. After my goodbyes to Marce, I texted Mom that I'd be home soon and that I would stop for gas and lunch.

According to Google maps, it would take two hours and seven minutes to get from campus to my house. And that's with no traffic and no stops. If the many speeding tickets I have say anything, it actually took me an hour and a half with no stops. Today, it took my exactly two hours to get home and like clock work, my Mom called at the two hour mark.

"Where are you?!" She shouted as soon as I answered the phone.

"I'm in the driveway!" I replied dramatically. If she was shouting, I didn't see any reason for me not to put on a show as well.

"Oh," she softened. "Well you got here fast?" She asked incredulously. I knew she was fishing for dirt on my speed.

The last time I got a ticket, Mom gave me this long lecture about how I was still on her insurance, and every time I got a speeding ticket, her rates went up. Thus came the "if you get another ticket, you're buying your own insurance."

My older brother Garvin, however, had wrecked two vehicles and had just as many speeding tickets as me; and when I asked if he had to buy his own insurance, my mom replied, "Well Garvin is a boy. That's different."

I knew I shouldn't have asked. Mom never yelled at him for anything because "Garvin was a boy." She said that so many times, it almost made me want to grow a penis. Almost.

So now I replied, "Well I didn't get pulled over, so I guess my speed was just fine." I opted out of adding the "for a girl part." That would've been a whole thing and I still had to go inside the house. No need to pile on all the drama before the summer even began.

"I guess," she responded reluctantly. And I could tell it killed her to nearly admit that I was right. Eat that Mom!

I hung up and got out of the car. Shit was already dicey, so there was no point in avoiding the inevitable. As soon as I popped the trunk, I heard the front door to the house slam open and my mother calling, "James, get out here and help your daughter."

My dad was James Joseph Horne III. Mr. James, or Jim to all that knew him, never J.J. My dad was retired from the military but he still acted like a drill sergeant, constantly telling you what to do and how to do it with excessive volume. He was a nightmare.

"Hey!" Dad came flying out the house, practically sounding jovial. Who was this man and what have they done with my father?

"Hey . . ." I waved awkwardly.

"Let's get you unpacked." He rubbed his hands together as if he was about to tear into some ribs.

"Sure thing," I tried to mimick his enthusiasm but I was truly perplexed by this situation.

An hour later we had most of my stuff in the house. Totes and suitcases with my clothes were dumped into my room, college crap was stored in the guest room; and miscellaneous furniture was either placed in the living room (the one we didn't use) or pilfered by mom with her asking "Are you still using this?"

As happy as I was that we got this done, as soon as I placed a hand on my first suitcase, Dad went into drill sergeant mode. "Start with the large stuff first and the work your way down to the small stuff.” While I could agree that made sense, I was in no mood to hear it.

"Okay. I heard you." Eye roll.

"Watch it, Miss Missy."

And it went on like that the entire time.

Finally in the sanctity of my own room, I texted Marcy that I was home and asked if she'd made it yet. When I didn't get an immediate reply, I assumed she was still traveling and would text me later. So I began to unpack my clothes and figure out where to put all this shit.

Moments later, I only had one suitcase unpacked and a backpack full of underwear that I just stuffed in a drawer. I felt too overwhelmed, ready to quit, so instead I took a break and went into the den. "What's for dinner?" I asked.

"Didn't you eat already?" My mother spoke.

"I did but that was hours ago." I pointed out.

"Well why don't we go out when your brother gets here?" Dad chimed in.

Again, who was this man? My mother would go out to eat if everyone else wanted to but he never made the suggestion. Going out was a waste of money since we had food at the house we could eat. Plus, Dad didn’t like anything, so there was no point in taking him anywhere. 

"Oh that's a great idea!" My mother beamed.

I bet you do I thought to myself. Any excuse to celebrate Garvin, my mother wasn't going to miss it. But why was Dad so excited? What, did Garvin grow another penis or some other amazing feat I missed? 

Garvin was no saint but because he was a boy, he could do no wrong. As you already know, he wrecked two cars (okay, finder benders) and has quite the few speeding tickets under his belt. Plus, whenever he would come home, Mom would bend over backwards making all his meals, doing all his laundry, and letting him have free reign of the house. But me, as a girl, I needed to know how to cook and clean and take care of a house. I mean, how else was I supposed to catch a husband?!

At least Dad didn't let Garvin off the hook so easily. He would at least make Garvin do yard work or something while he was here. But still, even my dad didn't see a problem with Mom taking care of Garvin and me doing everything else.

Of course, Garvin arrived late. He said he'd be home in an hour, but he'd stopped by a friend's house and it took longer than he had planned. But who cared right? He was Garvin, he could do no wrong. That’s certainly how Mom acted just now. 

"Oh that's alright." Mom beamed, ushering Garvin into the house. "We weren't waiting long."

"If you don't count two hours as long, then sure," I supplied.

"Ignore your sister," she told my brother.

"Whatever." I stalked off. What was the point anymore?

"Hold on. You might as well get in the car." Dad pulled me back. "Now that everyone is here, let's head to the restaurant."

"Okay, just let me grab my purse." I released myself and made my way to my room. Knowing them, they'd be arguing for a minute about where to go. Dad didn't like anywhere, Mom was picky, and Garvin had expensive taste. I had expensive taste too, but no one ever went where I wanted to go.

"Sweetie, hurry up. Your brother is starving!" Mom hollered.

"Well let's not keep his highness waiting!" I chorused back.

"There will be none of that tonight Miss Missy," Dad chided. Garvin said something but I couldn't make it out, but apparently it had everyone laughing. Cheeky bastard.

We decided on Red Lobster, or rather that's what Garvin decided when they asked. But I liked Red Lobster too, so I didn't mind. Those cheddar biscuits were to die for.

Once seated and chowing down on some cheddar biscuits, my father cleared his throat for our attention.

"I know it's been awhile since we've all been together like this as a family," he began. But seriously, we were together just this past Easter, which was a month ago. "And I know you're both growing up but your mother and I would like to take a vacation, as a family this year. And we've decided . . ." He paused for effect, my mother drum rolling on the table.

Garvin and I both exchanged a look. Curiouser and curiouser.

"We're going on a cruise!"

What the fuck to the hell no.