Mom pipes in. “Honey, I’m not sure about this. It is twenty-five degrees out.” She puts a hand to the window. “Why don’t your friends stay here? You all can watch a movie.” We haven’t said more than two words since I found her with those papers for Grandpa last night.

“I’m going. Where are my red leggings?”

“Oh, I’ve got just the perfect thing to go with those!” Coralee jumps up and runs down the hallway.

I hear the door open and slam shut. I can’t hear anything else. I wonder what Bert’s doing in there with Mema and Grandpa. Probably reciting the state capitals or mapping the stars or something.

Mom turns from the window, and her hand leaves a foggy outline like a ghost. “You need more than leggings. Where’s your long underwear?”

“I am not wearing long underwear!”

“Ellie, I do not want you to catch a cold.”

I yank on my leggings but can’t get them all the way up. It’s easier on the bed, but I don’t want to take the time to get myself out of my chair.

“I am not a baby,” I say, which would have been much more impressive if she hadn’t been pulling my leggings up over my bottom.

“I know that.”

“I don’t think you do.”

I hear the door open and shut and Coralee’s feet pounding down the hallway.

“Got ’em!” She’s holding her white sweatshirt with the glitter heart and a red feather boa.

The best thing about Mom driving is that I can pretend she’s not here. Bert’s up front giving directions because he won’t tell even her where we’re going, which proves he is much cooler than people give him credit for. It’s midafternoon now but still sunshiny, and I close my eyes for just a minute because it’s warm in here. Next to me, Coralee is humming something about the Chattahoochee River, and already this is better than any old dance.

Half an hour later we pull into a parking lot. It’s totally empty. There’s a white fence running around the block with a tiny building about the size of Mema’s canning shed in front, and that’s it. I can’t see what’s behind the fence.