in bed. Like
in bed.
Like those students coming down River Road.
She blinked and hunched forward, staring into the side-view mirror. What the hell? She cranked down the window once more.
"What is it?" asked Bob.
"Look behind us." She popped the passenger door and jumped out. The students who had been waiting along the roadside were lined up now, cheering and clapping. Some of them were waving pennants with gophers and Greek letters on them. Farther up the road she saw a fleet of beds, a flotilla of four-posters and brass rails weaving toward her, white sheets flapping like spinnakers.
She went to the rear of the van for a better view. Bob joined her there. "It's a bed race," he said.
The student crowd was growing thicker. Spectators were running alongside the street to keep abreast of the racers. They were yelling and shouting encouragement. She could see now that each bed had a passenger and was being pushed by a crew of three. Did that make them triremes, she wondered? The bedsheets flaunted more Greek letters than a math convention.
"It must be a fraternity event," Bob decided.
"Why, Holmes, how clever of you!"
"Alimentary, my dear Watson. I had a gut feeling."
She stamped her feet. How would the Angels find them in this crowd, local guide or no local guide? Chuck was from the Bay Area, he wouldn't have known about this. So, should she go looking for them or should she stay put?
One of the beds hit an icy spot and skidded, forcing the bed next to it to swerve. The other racers shouted epithets and laughed as they sprinted by. Sherrine imagined the beds cartwheeling and bursting into flame like stock cars going out of control. Then she realized that the two stray beds were headed straight toward her. The students around her parted and fled.
"Hey!" She grabbed Bob by the sleeve and yanked him aside. They tumbled to the frosted grass together, rolling tipsy-topsy in a snarl of arms and legs, and Bob naturally contrived to wind up on top. There was a crash of metal and a few shouts. Plastic crunched and Bob leapt up, leaving her prone.
"That's my van!" he cried. "They smashed the tail light!"
"Thanks for helping me up, Bob," she said.
"What? Oh. Sorry." He hoisted her to her feet and watched while she brushed herself off. "I always said I wanted to die jumping into bed with you; but this wasn't quite what
Like those students coming down River Road.
She blinked and hunched forward, staring into the side-view mirror. What the hell? She cranked down the window once more.
"What is it?" asked Bob.
"Look behind us." She popped the passenger door and jumped out. The students who had been waiting along the roadside were lined up now, cheering and clapping. Some of them were waving pennants with gophers and Greek letters on them. Farther up the road she saw a fleet of beds, a flotilla of four-posters and brass rails weaving toward her, white sheets flapping like spinnakers.
She went to the rear of the van for a better view. Bob joined her there. "It's a bed race," he said.
The student crowd was growing thicker. Spectators were running alongside the street to keep abreast of the racers. They were yelling and shouting encouragement. She could see now that each bed had a passenger and was being pushed by a crew of three. Did that make them triremes, she wondered? The bedsheets flaunted more Greek letters than a math convention.
"It must be a fraternity event," Bob decided.
"Why, Holmes, how clever of you!"
"Alimentary, my dear Watson. I had a gut feeling."
She stamped her feet. How would the Angels find them in this crowd, local guide or no local guide? Chuck was from the Bay Area, he wouldn't have known about this. So, should she go looking for them or should she stay put?
One of the beds hit an icy spot and skidded, forcing the bed next to it to swerve. The other racers shouted epithets and laughed as they sprinted by. Sherrine imagined the beds cartwheeling and bursting into flame like stock cars going out of control. Then she realized that the two stray beds were headed straight toward her. The students around her parted and fled.
"Hey!" She grabbed Bob by the sleeve and yanked him aside. They tumbled to the frosted grass together, rolling tipsy-topsy in a snarl of arms and legs, and Bob naturally contrived to wind up on top. There was a crash of metal and a few shouts. Plastic crunched and Bob leapt up, leaving her prone.
"That's my van!" he cried. "They smashed the tail light!"
"Thanks for helping me up, Bob," she said.
"What? Oh. Sorry." He hoisted her to her feet and watched while she brushed herself off. "I always said I wanted to die jumping into bed with you; but this wasn't quite what