Elijah leaned his head against the wall of the van while Sebastian pounded his head against the back of the passenger’s seat. Chel was draped over Chester’s lap toward the back of the van, her head on his shoulder.
“This is ridiculous,” Elijah complained. “what the fuck are we supposed to do until the traffic starts moving? We can’t just leave the van.”
“We could call Jeremy or Jeff to bring us takeout,” Chel said, staring out the window.
Her brothers looked at her. “How the fuck would they get here, though?” Sebastian asked. “In case you hadn’t noticed, everyone’s kinda really fucking stuck.”
“And they have these crazy things called motorcycles.” Chel gestured to the window. “In case you hadn’t fucking noticed, there aren’t any motorcycles in this mess ’cause they can go between cars and shit.”
Elijah tapped his chin. “That’s actually not a bad idea. What do we want then? Somebody call them.”
Sebastian glanced at the back of the van where his younger siblings were piled on top of each other, sleeping soundly. He smiled before turning back to watch the sky, turning the van on briefly to roll his window down. It smelled of BBQ wings and pizza, now mixed with the fresh air of the surrounding mountains.
Someone in the back snorted before shifting slightly. Sebby chuckled softly. This was his family. This was his life. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
the hippo who writes 