Defending Parker

[Chapter 2]

Chapter 2

Country music was blasting through my speakers as I maneuvered my car through traffic to catch up to my dad.

He had a bad habit of driving a little faster than the speed limit, and when I say a little, I mean the maximum that he could get away with without being pulled over and handed a speeding ticket. And my dad was a lawyer.

When the back my dad’s black car was once again in sight, I let my foot off the gas pedal slightly as I settled back into driving. My butt had long ago fallen asleep, and if it wasn’t for the pit stop up ahead that my dad and I had planned, I would probably be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Driving too long without a break was not good for me, as I was used to running, a sport where you took your turn, had a break to eat, rest and stretch, and then race again. Continuous activity was never my strong suit.

When I saw the sign that directed driver’s to the next pit stop, I flicked my blinker on and followed my dad into the next lane, following the sign’s direction.

Within minutes, I was pulling my car into the parking spot beside my dad, cutting my engine in front of a small road-side diner.

“So, how was driving on the highway?” my dad asked as I climbed out of my car and shut the door behind me.

I made a grumbling sound in response. “My butt’s asleep and I wish I didn’t have to drive that long.”

“You’ll get used to it eventually honey.” he laughed, opening the door to the diner, waving me in before him.

“I doubt it.” I mumbled to myself as my dad and I joined the short line for food.

After looking over the menu quickly, I decided to go for the simple option and get the chicken fingers combo, which came with fries and a drink, telling the lady at the counter exactly that as we reached the front of the line. My dad took a more adventurous turn for his meal, choosing the shrimp burger and onion rings, which while I found it disgusting, my dad actually enjoyed it.

Taking a seat at one of the empty tables, my dad and I sat down and started eating.

As I finished my chicken fingers, I pushed the empty container to the side and started to slowly munch on my fries. “So,” I said, deciding to start a conversation, “How much longer until we reach Byrendale?”

A couple of days ago, my dad had told me that the city we were moving to was Byrendale, and although it wasn’t one of the biggest cities on the east coast, it wasn’t exactly small either. When I looked it up online it seemed that it was just like my hometown; a lot of places to hang out and have fun, a few schools scattered across the city and a lot of middle class families making a life for themselves. The only thing that seemed to be different, from the knowledge I had already gained, was the scenery and the people.

My dad shrugged his shoulders as he swallowed the food in his mouth before replying. “It should be another two hours or so from here. We’ll probably cross the state line in about half an hour and then we have another eighty minutes or so to get to the city.”