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Weekly Contest #271
I was in deep crap. My mother preferred to say I “crossed the line.” Either way we were now sitting in our driveway waiting to leave. The June sun baked the car and I was sweating but didn’t dare speak. Her anger was still evaporating. My mother adjusted her navy-blue readers and looked over her checklist one last time. I had never seen her take charge of a project like this project. And this project was getting rid of me for six weeks. Normally my dad oversaw family road trips. He would buy salted sunflower seeds at the gas station an...
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