FORLORN YOWLS ASSAULTED my ears before I even saw our van parked under a rosebud tree far from all the other vehicles. Good thing. The fierce noise vibrated the van and pink petals from the tree danced across the hood.
“Holy crap. What’s that?” asked Caleb.
“Slick and Sydney. They are not pleased,” said Aunt Calla.
“I call shotgun!” I yelled as I ran to the passenger side, yanked open the door, and saw two cat carriers on the seat. “Never mind.”
Ella stuck out her tongue at me. “Too late, stupid.”
My sisters and cousins piled into the van. I waited until the last minute, put the carriers onto the floor, climbed in, and propped my feet up on the dash.
Aunt Calla got in the driver’s side. “Christ, I hate this van. It’s an insult to individuality.”
“Where’s Mom?” asked April.
“Your mom,” Aunt Calla said over her shoulder, “has to go back home and pack up her work, leaving me to drive this monstrosity. She’ll be along later.” Then she started the van and drove us out of the city, leaving its smells and constraints behind.
The cats kept yowling even though I put a blanket over their carriers. Their voices rose and fell like overweight opera singers. Aunt Calla started singing The Dixie Chicks, matching the cat’s tone and pitch.
“Wide open spaces. Room to make the big mistakes,” she sang.
I stuck my head out the window. The wind rushed past my ears and blocked out the cats and my aunt.
After my ears started getting windburned, I pulled my head in. The cats eventually calmed down and only mewed occasionally. Aunt Calla changed to The Black Crows, but she still sang at the top of her lungs. Luke and Caleb fought over which iPod was whose and my sisters griped about losing out on the math award, but I could hardly hear them over Aunt Calla. I stripped off my tie, school shoes, and socks. I considered tying the tie over my ears.
“I can give you what you want. But you gotta come home with me,” Aunt Calla screeched.
Actually, she was pretty good, but nobody wants to hear their aunt sing that song. Seriously. It was pretty gross and she wasn’t even a dude, so it didn’t make sense.
I decided to block Aunt Calla out by concentrating on Ella and April running down every test grade they’d received in algebra while Luke whacked Caleb on the head.
“I’m gonna prove everything I say.” Aunt Calla’s voice wavered as she drew out the last note to unnatural lengths.
Nothing could block out Aunt Calla or my mom for that matter. They always found a way in, so I stopped fighting it and rested my head against the door frame. Her words bounced around in my head and at some point became less fun party song and more threatening. Something about the line “I’m gonna prove everything I say.” I drifted off to sleep with that thought resting deep in my subconscious. For the first time in months, I slept without nightmares of Miss Pritchett. I dreamt about something else. I never could quite pinpoint it. Something to do with that song. Something dark and fearful.
An hour later, Aunt Calla pulled onto the dirt road leading to Camp. The jolt of going from pavement to the rutted old country road brought me painfully awake. My head whacked against the door frame and I sat up, rubbing the long welt it left on my temple.
“Ouch,” I complained. “You could’ve warned me.”
“And you could’ve stayed awake,” Aunt Calla said. “Don’t be a whiner. We’re here.”
I stopped rubbing my head and looked down the road ahead of us. A canopy of green overhead darkened the road and gave the feeling of driving through a tunnel. We bounced over ruts and through small streams toward Camp and, in my mind, the best, safest place on earth.