"Aaaaaaahhhhh!" Cassie screamed.
"Look out! Lookoutlookoutlooko utlookout!" Jake yelled.
"Would you both shut up?" I demanded. "I'm trying to drive here!"
"Car! Car! Car!" Jake yelled.
I yanked the wheel left. The car sped by, horn blaring. The driver stuck his hand out the window and made a sign with his fingers.
"That's rude," I said. "And totally uncalled for."
BAM!
"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!"
"Oh, it's just a trash can," I said. "Chill out."
BAM!BAM!BAM!
"Okay, so it's four trash cans," I said.
"Get off the sidewalk, you lunatic!" Jake said.
I yanked the wheel to the right. We bumped off the sidewalk, sort of grazed a parked car, and...
BAM! BAM!BAM!
"Do you hate trash cans?" Jake asked. "Is that your problem? Do you just HATE TRASH
CANS?!!"
"I can't drive with you screaming in my ear," I said.
"You can't drive at all!" Jake said.
"Left! Turn left! There, there! Turn left! It's that way," Cassie said, taking time out from screaming.
I turned left. I missed the actual street, but fortunately, the people who lived on that corner did not have any trees in their front yard.
BUMP! Over the curb. BUMP! Rear wheels over the curb. I stepped on the gas and tore across the lawn.
"Cool," I said.
"I'm going to kill you, Marco," Jake said in a weirdly calm voice. "If I survive, I am gonna kill you."
"You said you could drive!" Cassie accused.
I shrugged. Actually, what I had said was I scored millions of points playing Wipeout, this excellent video game. "Okay, so it's not exactly like Wipeout. I'm doing the best I can."
