“Interstate” by Kate Lister Campbell (fiction, ’18)

An excerpt from “Interstate” by Kate Lister Campbell (fiction, ’18) published at Salamander:

Interstate

We play games in the backseat, the children and me. Is it bigger than a breadbox? Smaller than a house? Everyone’s a good sport before lunchtime but, by afternoon, our minds are tired and the games become more brutal.

“JXQ!” yells Hugh, as a car passes us on the right. He reaches across me in the middle seat to pinch his brother, James. You get a pinch for any license plate that starts with the same letter as your name. This plate reads MZ7 but James is too short to see it. I catch Hugh by his wrist.

“Quit cheating.”

“Ow, jeez,” he says, slumping away from me.

Elise lies behind our heads on the wide stretch of felt beneath the Cadillac’s rear window. She’s small for her age, a runt in the womb who somehow survived while her larger sister didn’t. She plays her own silent games with the passengers in the cars behind us, laughing at gestures we can’t see. When she’s bored, she crawls down over my shoulder and climbs into the front seat between her mother and father. Grace pulls Elise’s hair into a tight ponytail. Edward lifts her hand onto the wheel and pretends to let her steer. James, Hugh, and I squirm, wishing we had Elise’s freedom.

[…continue reading here]