...room in the front seat with Kerry and Angie, where at least she could have tied herself down with a seat belt. But Angie was driving, and Kerry's hand was glued to the radio, searching vainly through static bands. Though the road was doing its best to slow them down, they were, nevertheless, too far south into Mexico to catch San Diego's stations. Glancing out of the window at the brittle tumbleweed, the baked orange hills, and dry, cracked ravines, Shani felt as if she had crossed into another world, rather than merely into another country. "Can't get anything on this damn thing," Kerry Ladd said, fretting as usual. "Turn it off," Shani said. "I have a headache as it is." "I've got to have music," Kerry said, snapping in a cassette. Pat Benatar started wailing about precious time. Kerry wasn't the most considerate of friends. But Shani didn't complain. The grinding guitar was the lesser of two evils. Constant external distraction was necessary to keep strung-out Kerry from exploding. "I've got to turn off the air conditioning, again," Angie Houston warned, wiping a long straight strand of blonde hair from her hazel eyes as she flipped a switch next to the radio. "We're beginning to overheat." "I don't want to sweat," Kerry complained. With the cool air turned off, the rise in temperature was almost immediate. "Do you want to walk?" Angie asked, turning down the song's volume. "Shani, how far do you think we have left to go?" Shani studied the map...
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