"Rest area? Taylor, we just stopped an hour ago. If we keep stopping, we'll never make it to Boston." Dad was doing his best to keep his temper in check, but it was more than obvious he was fighting a losing battle. And I honestly can't say that I blame him. I mean, Jess, Avie, Mackie, and Zoe weren't this bad on tour.

I looked in the rearview mirror in time to see Dad give Taylor 'the evil eye.' When Dad gives you that look, you know you're being put in your place. I looked at my younger brother out of the corner of my eye. He was leaning his head against the window, looking pitiful. And even though he had been nothing but a brat since Dad slipped the key into the ignition, I couldn't help but think how much I was going to miss him.

"Taylor, what's wrong? You look sick. You're not going to throw up, are you?" Mom asked from her post in the front passenger seat. I could hear her getting a can of ginger ale out of the cooler sitting at her feet.

Taylor and I exchanged glances and rolled our eyes. Leave it to Mom to ruin a sentimental moment. "I'm fine," he said, then continued to look out his designated window. "Although, I would be much better if I could stretch my legs. There's barely any room for me, what with all of Ike's crap and everything."

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Just wear this outfit for the entire semester?" I shot back. I don't like being cooped up in a car any more than anyone else, but bickering with my brother was making the ride unbearable.

"No, but you didn't have to bring so much crap. They have stores in Boston, ya know."

"Taylor, enough. If I hear 'crap' from your mouth again, I'm going to scream. It's not 'crap,' they're Isaac's belongings." Mom sighed in frustration, and I didn't have to look at her to know she was pursing her lips. No doubt, a lecture was coming on.

Taylor huffed. "Damnit, we're only in Illinois and I'm already thinking of hanging myself from one of Isaac's socks." I gave him a quizzical look, and he said, "I'm sorry, it's just that long car rides bug me to death. This sucks, can't we stop at a rest area, or something?"

"Enough already! We just stopped an hour ago! Dad just got done telling you that. We're never going to make it to Boston if we keep stopping. Tay, just knock it off already. You weren't this bad on the bus. What's wrong with you now?"

"Does this LOOK like a bus to you? In a BUS, we could get up and walk around. If I got up in this van, I'd run into some of your BELONGINGS."

Finally, I had had enough. "Tay, you brought 24 Cds with you. Think you could listen to one and shut up for a minute?"

He glared at me, then slipped on the headphones. Once again, he continued to stare out the window, a pathetic yet slightly bitter look on his face.

"Hey, King Pity-Me, can you at least turn the CD player DOWN a bit. The rest of the family doesn't want to hear it." I was trying to lighten the mood a bit. I honestly was. But all I got in response was Tay mumbling his usual obscenities at me under his breath while looking out at the fields of Illinois.

"Honey, no, I think we're supposed to get on I-93 North," Mom told Dad, trying to fulfill her duties as co-pilot. "The map doesn't say that the Massachusetts Turnpike goes into Boston."

"Diana, please, I am trying to get over to the exit. Put the map down. I can't see through it, dear."

The tension in the car was quickly rising. Suffice it to say, the map Berklee mailed us was not the greatest, and none of us were familiar with driving in New England.

"Wa- ... a car... plea- ... stop!!" The van jerked to a stop in the middle of the exit. A little Hyndai cut across the front hood, narrowly taking our fender with it. Dad calmly turned around to face Taylor and I and said, "if you start driving like that when you get home, I will personally cut up your licenses with scissors." And with that, he pressed the gas pedal to the floor and headed onto the next highway. "I can't believe this! What... person merges four lanes of traffic into two in the middle of a major intersection? Isaac, are you sure you want this?" Dad asked. I caught his eye in the rearview mirror and we smiled at one another. Although he had been a big supporter of my decision to go to Berklee, seeing me off wasn't easy on him. Heck, it wasn't easy on any of us - myself included.

I glanced at Tay. He was no longer staring out the window, but was now watching Dad gesturing loudly with his hands and arms, complaining to Mom about the new and mysterious traffic laws. Curiousity getting the better of him, Taylor asked, "Dad? Why are you doing that?"

Dad frantically checked all his mirrors, and then took our lives in his hands as he tried to switch lanes again. "Taylor, what?! I'm sorry, but driving should not be this stressful. Di- ... Diana... is there someone in that lane?" He turned back and mumbled, "I can't see through the map you're strategically holding over my view of the road."

We all collectively jerked to the left as Dad swerved right to switch lanes. Mom clutched the dashboard in an attempt to stay in her seat. "Walker, is that necessary? The boys are in the car."

Dad wasn't listening, though. Instead, he was mumbling to himself while trying to read the signs overhead. "Ya know, the state's not that big. You'd think they could handle traffic laws. It's not like they have that much room or anything."

Taylor looked at me and rolled his eyes. "Man, he rides shot gun on the tour bus, and now he's an expert driver."

"I heard that, Taylor. And what? You think 'cause you've had your license all of 5 months that YOU'RE an expert driver?"

"Walker, forget your son and keep your eyes on the road. I'd like to make it to Boston in one piece. I got 5 more children at home, and I'd like not to orphan them."

And so went the bantering back and forth all the way into the city and around it three times. The map failed to mention that one of the key streets heading toward Berklee was one way: the opposite way the map was telling us. "Dad, please, just find a cop and get directions." Oddly enough, a dark chocolate horse was walking through the park with a Boston policeman riding on his back. After conversing for a few moments my father turned to us with a cheesy grin and said, "You don't see that every day now do ya?" No, Mr. Hicktown, ya don't.

"Why don't you guys wait here while I check in?" I suggested, hopping out of the van. "I'll get my key and room assignment, and then we can start unloading."

"Sounds good," Dad said, nodding in agreement.

"Wait! I'll go with you," Taylor said, jumping ship and leaving the parental units in the van to fend for themselves. We headed for the dorm. "I don't want to be there when Mom starts to cry."

"She's not going to cry," I said simply.

"Oh, no? You don't think her first-born staying here while she rides back to Tulsa isn't going to upset her? Look, I'm not trying to upset you or make you feel guilty. I just don't want to be there when she cries. That's all." Taylor simply shrugged his shoulders, and we entered the building.

After waiting on a line longer than the Mississippi River, I got my mailbox combo, room key and assignment: room 506. When we go back to the car, I broke the news to Mom and Dad. "Room 506." They lumbered at the news of my room placement.

"I'll stay here and watch the stuff while you unload," Taylor said, but was given a bag of linens to carry instead. Mom pulled her hair into a knot and started to the task of clearing out the van. Dad didn't argue when she got that knot in her hair; it meant business. He tried to lighten the mood for us, "Boys, don't even consider crossing her, she in 'the knot mode'. Do as she says and we'll all be okay."

There wasn't much to the room, bunk beds and two desks on opposite sides of the room. White, blank walls were apparently all they allowed at Berklee. Taylor excused himself and came back with a report on the potty situation, "Looks okay now, but I would definitely carry a lot of TP with me. I have a feeling it's going to disappear soon." Little did he know the Potty Parties started the next week. The upperclassmen raid the underclassmen's dorms for TP at random times. Potty Parties, as they were called, were a way of keeping the frosh in their place.

"You think so, Tay?" Mom asked. "Maybe we should pick you up some, Ike, before we leave. You'll be here without a car, after all." She put a hand on Dad's shoulder. "Why don't we find an upperclassman or someone who can give us directions?" Dad nodded his head in agreement, and the two left.

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Mom to actually worry about toilet paper. She still considers me the child that Zoe is. I can't believe they really thought I believed them. I knew they were just going to check out the RA, and make sure that I was in good hands.

Taylor plopped down on the bed for a few moments of rest, but Dad peeked around the corner and threw the keys at him, "There are still more boxes, Taylor. I expect them to be up here when we get back. Your mother doesn't need to be straining herself up five flights of stairs." Grumbling to himself, he got up and headed for the stairwell.

I was left alone to rummage through the boxes and give some semblance of order to my new home. Now, I have never been a neat person, but to say the room was currently in shambles would be an understatement. There were just boxes everywhere. It would probably take me forever to unpack. I didn't know how I was going to make it all fit, AND have room for my roommate's stuff, too. This was certainly going to be mission impossible.

I heard someone whistling down the hall and backed up to face the doorway. A short, dark-haired man with a leather jacket and sunglasses stalked in. Nervous as all hell with my new roommate, I stuck my hand out to shake, "Uh... hi? I'm Isaac Hanson."

My roommate just sort of stared at my hand like it was some foreign unknown object. He nodded his head and then turned to drop a guitar case and a box onto the empty bed next to the window. I overheard him mutter under his breath, "What a redneck. I mean, come on, shake my hand? What am I, fifty or something? My goddamn father wouldn't even do that."

I tried to fluff it off, but I had heard nightmare stories of roommates and I really hoped I'd get someone I could be friends with. It definitely did not look like I would be getting to know James Dean reincarnate. A girl appeared at the door, and I waved a quick hello. She smiled and giggled, "Hi, I'm Tiffeny, that's with an 'e.' My name, I mean. It's spelled.... with an 'e'..." She looked around the room for a moment, a confused expression on her face. My roommate, who was looking through a box of mine, turned to her and said, "Tif, he gets it. Let it go." He looked around the room one last time then announced, "We're outta here."

And of course, as luck would have it, Taylor picked that exact moment to come barreling into the room, box in hands. He all but ran over Tiffeny and my roommate. I guess the box was a bit heavy, 'cause he rushed to drop it on the bed in haste, almost knocking the girl over. She just giggled and stared a bit. "Let's go, Tif," my roommate said, taking the girl by the elbow and pulling her out of the room.

"Coming, Jordan," she said. She gave Tay and I one last look before leaving the room.

Taylor began rummaging through the box and said, "I bet she was a teenie. Ten bucks says. Ya know, how far is Paramus from here? I can bet she has a lock of my hair framed in her room."

"Somehow, I doubt it. I don't think 'Jordan' would like it - having his girlfriend pine away for someone else. It would be funny if she did, though. I'd laugh just for the sheer fun of knowing she likes us better than him."

"So... his name is Jordan?" Taylor asked, removing the bedding from a box so he could make the bed.

"I'm guessing it is, since that's what 'Tiffeny with an e' called him. He didn't want to be bothered with something as trivial as an introduction."

"Even better. She's in love with him because his name is Jordan... She had all but given up on her crush for me, and she settled for another Jordan. She's showing her undying love for me by masquerading with Jordania."

I looked up from the box full of toiletries, staring at my brother in disbelief. "Taylor, what did you sniff in that bathroom? I really think you need psychiatric help. And what's with 'Jordania'?"

"It's my name for the stud muffin."

I rolled my eyes. "Tay, you need some serious help, man."

"What?" he asked innocently, widening his eyes. "Every evil roommate from hell has to have an endearing pet name."

"And what do you know about it? It's not like you've had an over abundance of roommates. You've only lived with me and Zac."

"Exactly," he said, tossing the box to the side and unfolding the sheets.

Mom and Dad came back into the room then, talking in hushed tones. They looked blankly at each other before addressing, "Uh.... Isaac? About your... uh... R.A...? He's a bit...." Mom was at a loss for words; Dad picked up the slack. "Different, I think is the word. He's... different."

Of course, the way they were talking, I immediately thought the kid had no head and six arms or something. Shane came around that night to check out his "little frosh dudes," and see if we had any questions.

The rest of the afternoon went pretty smoothly. Mom became Mr. Clean's female counterpart, and Dad, Tay, and I just tried to stay out of her way. I didn't realize that she had made up a box of cleaning supplies at home to use. She had an industrial strength, Hospital Use Only can of disinfectant, and I thought we were going to pass out from smoke inhalation. Dad had to hang his head out the window for a few seconds. "Di, I think we killed every bug in Boston. Can you stop it with the spray already?"

The goodbyes were hard, but I was eager to get them on the road. I hadn't been able to stop all day. I just wanted to lay in bed for a few minutes and think about what was happening. Oklahoma was so far away and when they left, the same would be true of my family. As sad as I was, I couldn't help but feel positive about the future that lay ahead.