“Yes,” said Nina, “although I am also here, and if that curly-haired little monster doesn’t stop throwing bookmarks up into the ceiling fan, I am going to leave the phone call and go directly to jail, passing him on the way and dragging him with me.”

Laura laughed, and the laugh took some of her anxiety away. They were right; she could do this.

A fourth voice joined the call. “Turn right on Wilton Place.”

“Who’s that?” said Nina.

“GPS,” said Laura.

“Really?” said Nina. “I’m not sure Wilton is the right call, honestly.”

“Nina,” said Polly firmly, “let the GPS lady do her job.” She sighed. “Don’t listen to her,” she said to Laura. “Nina has never met a GPS system she doesn’t second-guess.”

“I grew up here, they didn’t,” said Nina.

Laura turned right on Wilton Place. The other cars seemed awfully close, but she was doing it.

“Stay on Wilton Place for two miles,” said the GPS lady.

Laura kept driving, feeling the familiar wheel beneath her hands, starting to get comfortable.

“What happens after Wilton Place?” she asked Polly and Nina.

“The freeway,” said Nina, adding, “Put that down please. If you get ice cream on the flaps, they won’t open anymore, and then your mommy is going to have to buy the book, which, judging by your nascent facial hair, is probably a bit young for you.”

Polly giggled.

Nina lowered her voice. “Why is a teenager attending a SnaggleBuggle event, anyway? Is he being ironic?”

Polly said, “I think you’re being unfair. Maybe he brought a younger sibling.”

Laura was having trouble breathing. “I’m sorry . . . did you say ‘freeway’?”

Nina made an affirmative noise. “I mean, I guess you could take surface streets all the way if you want to avoid the freeway.”

“Would that take longer?”

“Well,” said Nina with the air of someone about to embark on a very long explanation, “that entirely depends on the time of day and which freeway and which surface streets we’re talking about.” She took a huge breath, but Polly interrupted.

“Yes,” she said, “it would take longer. Do you know what time Bob’s flight even is?”

Laura slowed down to pass a truck and nearly threw up in her own lap. “Hey, guys, I don’t know if I can do this, I feel really sick.”

“You’re already doing it,” said Nina, “but if you think you’re going to puke, you should definitely pull over.” She paused. “We’ll wait.”

Laura pulled over to the side of the street and stopped the truck. She leaned her head back against the driver’s seat and tried to breathe calm back into her body.

After a second or two, Polly said, “Are you still there?”

Laura said she was.

“And did you throw up on yourself?”

Laura said she hadn’t.

“Score,” said Polly.