Passenger Seat [202]

Past Crit [697]

i've been taking a step back and trying to develop my style on more grounded, domestic vignettes. still in high school so don't have access to big kid writing workshops, yall are gonna become one. please tear this apart.

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I slapped the visor when we ran a red light and Jackie said that only works for yellows, so I have to slap it again to undo it. I said, “a red is a stronger yellow.” She told me no because “you don’t speed up for reds.” I said, “you do,” slapped the visor again, and left Wyoming.

Alarmingly, I woke up in central Idaho. I saw all these lights in the dark clinging to the first hill I’d seen in days and asked Jackie if we hit Boise yet. She said no, Pocatello, and we’d be in Idaho six more hours. I was gonna roll down the window and pretend to jump out, but Jackie put the child lock on. So I reached over and yanked at the lock rod. Jackie swerved like she was gonna crash the car, which is a better joke anyway. So I just looked out my closed window. 

I’d make out flickering billboards trailing past me, but all I could really see was Jackie’s reflection lit up by the dim red FM indicator. She didn’t even notice me. She was staring into the distance, twisting a hoodie string around her index finger. That’s all there was.