“Girls!” Aunt Maureen said excitedly. “Do you know that South Pass City is where women first earned the right to vote?” She turned around in her seat to make intense eye contact with Kennedy in the third row, then me in the middle. “You have these pioneer women to thank for your freedoms.”

She faced forward again and read from her phone. “South Pass City had the first female justice of the peace, Esther Hobart Morris.” In the side mirror, I saw her look up, then gasp, pointing as we sped by a road sign. “Look! That said that we’re on the Wyoming Women’s Suffrage Pathway right now. ‘Home of the women’s vote’!”

“I women’s vote we turn around,” Kennedy said with a groan. “This drive is taking forever. I’m getting carsick.” Cah-sick.

“Crack your window,” Uncle Bran suggested from the driver’s seat.

Kennedy groaned again, loudly. “Suffrage is right.”

“That doesn’t mean what you think it does, Ken,” Uncle Bran said. “Suffrage is the right—”

“Like I care, Brandon,” Kennedy interrupted.

“Stop calling him that; he’s Dad,” her mom said angrily, not looking back this time. “I told you it’d take two hours, and it’s been an hour and forty-five minutes. We’re almost there. It’s going to be fun. And, young lady, you’ve never been carsick a day in your life.”

“What?” Kennedy snapped when I glanced at her.

She put on headphones and scrunched down in her seat with a huff.

Next to me in his booster, Kane was zonked out, snoring softly, his mouth hanging open, his head cranked in a way that didn’t seem comfortable. Concerned, I’d pointed it out earlier to Aunt Maureen, but she’d just laughed and told me that younger kids sleep in weird positions.

We were going to the South Pass City Historic Site, which apparently was part of the Oregon Trail and had a gold mine way back when, but was now just a bunch of abandoned old buildings in the middle of nowhere.

Aunt Maureen had been super excited, and old me might have been okay with it because I don’t mind historical stuff and am generally okay with doing things with family. But today I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do less. I had a ton on my mind, and Kennedy was way too grumpy for it to be anything other than a disaster.

Not that I said that to Aunt Maureen.

That would have been rude.

“Look at the antelope!” Uncle Bran said, pointing toward the rolling hills on the left side of the car. I saw five white butts bounding over the sagebrush, fleeing into the distance.

“Cool,” I said, trying to balance out their own daughter’s nastiness, even though we’d seen about fifty antelope on the trip so far, so these weren’t exactly special.