Omega: the Sequel

Chapter Seven

He sent me a dirty look. “Heavy winter coats–”

“–get in the way, yes,” I ended. “But layers work better than freezing to death.”

December ninth, and it was chilly enough that I was wearing Jay’s old flying jacket over the Notre Dame hoodie. I couldn’t understand why I could still wear his clothes, but something in me wouldn’t allow myself to throw it out; besides, it was useful. I hadn’t been messing with him; heavy winter coats only impeded movement and were inconvenient for traveling. Josh, however, was dressed in only sweatpants and a hoodie, so it was obvious why he was cold.

“Go away,” he mumbled. “If it starts snowing, I swear I’ll kill someone.”

I winced at his word choice, Charlie’s voice coming back with vivid clarity, and then forced myself to smile at him as I reached for the radio. “Maybe some Christmas music will cheer you up?”

He smacked my hand away. “Heck no! You know how I feel about the whole starting Christmas music before freaking Halloween thing.”

Withdrawing the offending hand, I gave him a wounded look. “Was that really necessary? You could just say no.”

“And since when have you listened?”

Smiling, I closed my eyes, snuggling back down into the warmth of the cocoon I had built myself upon entering the car. “How much longer until we reach Michigan?”

“How old are you, five?” Josh was derisive. “Pull out your phone and Google map it if you want to know.” I pulled a puppy-dog face with my eyes closed and he groaned loudly. “Whatever. Another four hours until we reach Michigan, and, if you wanted to know, another ninety minutes to two hours from there. Happy?”

I opened my eyes in disbelief. “How long have we been driving?”

“We left at eight,” he said in a patient voice. “It’s now two in the afternoon. You do the math, and be thankful there isn’t a time change involved.”

My eyes squinting slightly as I added up the hours, I grumbled, “That’s a long time. You sure we’re not lost?”

“Astrid.”

“Okay, okay, just checking.” Yawning widely but coming to the conclusion that sleep was impossible, I sat up, tucking the blanket around my legs and reaching for the floor, where we had a couple of book-on-tapes. “Let’s listen to something to pass the time. What language do you want? French?”

He stuck his tongue out at me. “Ha, ha. How about we be normal for once and listen to something in plain old American English?”

“So…no Harry Potter?”

“Harry’s acceptable,” he said, glancing down at our choices. “Gotta say, for a dorky little kid with glasses, he knows how to kick ass. To bad he’s not as attractive as me, huh?”