Hitting the Road – Short Story

The alarm clock is blaring but the birds are far too loud for it to only be 5:15 in the morning. The house is loud too, and Sherman can hear his family zipping up suitcases. He can hear the soft hiss of pancake batter hitting the pan in the kitchen, and the sound of someone thundering down the stairs to the garage to put a case of water in the back of the car. Sherman blinks and, wiping sleep from his eyes, slings a leg over the side of the bed. There is an almighty crash. Sherman’s brother Kyle sits bolt upright and stares in amazement at Sherman stirring feebly from the ground. Sherman mumbles something weakly about forgetting that they had the bunk bed and drags himself to the door. Kyle turns over and falls back asleep. Sherman heads down the stairs about fifteen minutes, and collides with the charging form of his youngest sister. They both collapse on the stairwell – the Johnsons are a family of tall, thin, reedy people. “Nicole?” Sherman asks shakily, “What on earth?” Nicole is fuming. She accuses Kyle and Sherman of making them late for the road. Sherman feels lost. Nicole charges past him and wakens Kyle with a bowl of ice cold water. Kyle joins Sherman in the kitchen, sputtering, a minute later. They are warned by the furious family that they both have five minutes to be packed and in the car. It comes back to them in a flash that they are meant to be on the highway in a very short time. They run up the stairs, gangly Sherman tripping over Kyle in his haste, and hurry to fill their suitcases with the bare necessities. Shortly after, we find Sherman in the car. He’s excited. Canada, nous voici.