Mariah Carrey belted out hit after hit from the confines of Erika's boom box, helped along by Julie's badly out of tune but enthusiastic Soprano voice. Her pitchy lyrics were masked amid a myriad of other equally unharmonious voices. The atmosphere was euphoric, everyone laughing and in good cheer. Julie had thought the elation would subside, but on the contrary it only seemed to intensify. This was the best she'd ever felt in her life, even better than when her parents built a basketball court in the backyard for Christmas, better than being kissed by Omar Sifuentes in the schoolyard back in seventh grade, better than the first time she discovered her sexual organ and the orgasms it could produce.
They had only been on the road for less than an hour, and that evening's events had replayed in her mind countless times. Her break to the top of the key, her foul drawing jumper sinking like a dagger, her cool as ice free throw, her game saving block. All this on top of seventeen total points, eight assists, two steals, and five rebounds. It was a heroic tale of triumph with which she would undoubtedly regale her children, her children's children, and, God willing, her children's children's children for seventy or eighty years to come. Her heart swelled with pride as she anticipated how her parents would receive the news, and how she would share the story with just the right amount of humility when the subject presented itself at school. All this passed through her head as she belted out the chorus to Always Be My Baby.
It was on the third and final set of do do doop do do doop do doop da dum's when the evening took a turn for the south. A God awful noise rose from the floor of the bus, and the entire vehicle shook as though the smooth blacktop upon which they were travelling had suddenly turned to rubble. Mariah missed her line as the CD skipped, but no one noticed. There were some screams, some horrified faces, but no more gleeful singing. The bus fishtailed, then entered into a skid. While girls around her panicked, Julie braced herself for the impact of the bus tipping onto its side, which judging by the inertia tugging at the roof was now unavoidable. The sounds from below, first of rubber shredding as the tires came apart, then of metal grinding against pavement, assaulted Julie's ear drums, drowning out the panicked shrieks of her teammates. Just when it seemed they would roll, somehow the vehicle righted itself and the driver, a square little man named Mario with greasy black hair, a walrus mustache, and a raspy voice that was the product of twenty six years of heavy smoking, was able to grind to a halt on the shoulder.
"Holy fucking shit," Erika breathed. "What the fuck was that?"
Julie looked at her friend and busted up laughing. "Oh my God, you almost shit your pants."
“I did fucking shit my pants,” Erika shot back, which sent Julie into a fit of hysteria that neared delirium. Chuckling mildly in comparison, Erika asked, “weren’t you scared?”
Giggling too hard to respond, Julie only shook her head.
“Bullshit, you lying bitch.”
Finally getting herself under control, Julie answered earnestly, “No, I wasn’t scared, I was more worried about someone getting hurt so they couldn’t play in State.”
"Yeah, fuck dude, that would fucking suck."
Around that time Coach Lopez started making her way down the aisle, and when she asked Julie and Erika if they were alright they told her they were. A lot of the girls were a little shell shocked, but no one seemed to be harmed.
"Alright, so listen up," Coach called to them. "We blew out our tires."
"All of them?" Teresa asked.
"Mario's checking it out, but it looks like we're going to have to wait here for another bus to come pick us up."
"Nice," Lori, the back up point guard, chimed in sarcastically.
"I need for you all to just relax, take it easy, and stay on the bus. Okay?"
There were some unenthusiastic replies of, "okay," but Julie wasn't too put off by the whole ordeal. She was among friends, and they could laugh, tell jokes, gossip, and just be teenagers. It would be like a big slumber party. The only problem she could see was that her bladder chose this particular time to act up, and there wasn't a bathroom around for at least forty miles.
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