“What’s up with you two?” Judy asked.

“We have a graduation gift for you.” He showed her the small gift-wrapped box he’d been hiding.

“You gave me one.” Last night, after graduation, their dad had slipped Judy a card with a $1,000 check. Still, Judy greedily swiped the box and hurriedly unwrapped it. She opened the lid and gasped.

“No way.” Her gaze darted from their dad to their mom, then back to their dad. “For real?”

“What is it?” Joy raised to her knees and hobbled to the end of the bed.

“For real,” their dad said.

Judy put the lid aside and lifted a set of keys. She showed Joy. Joy’s jaw dropped. Judy got a new car. They were going to drive to the party in a brand-new car.

Excitement shot through Joy. She flew off the bed. “I want to see.”

Judy beat her through the door. “Me first!”

They raced down the hallway and out the front door to the driveway. Joy screeched to a halt. Judy just screeched.

“Omigodomigodomigod!”

Joy made a face. “What is that?”

Judy danced around the car, screaming and laughing and spazzing out. “It’s a 1955 Plymouth Belvedere Sport Coupe. Isn’t she a dream?” She gingerly touched the hardtop.

Was she nuts? It was the ugliest car Joy had ever seen. And it was teal.

“It’s hideous.”

“Joy, be nice,” her mom said from behind her. “Don’t ruin this for Judy.”

“I won’t,” she whined. She just didn’t get what was so special about an old car. Her ten-second fantasy of pulling up to Kevin’s cabin in a convertible Beemer popped like an overblown balloon. But a thought occurred to her. “Does this mean I get a convertible Porsche Carrera for my graduation?” she asked her dad. Her dream car.

“Not with the grades you brought home.”

Joy pouted.

“Can I drive it to the party tonight?” Judy asked.

Their dad hesitated.

“It should be fine, Joel.”

“All right, as long as your mother doesn’t have a problem with it. But there are a few things you need to know before you drive off. The engine gets shaky when you take it over fifty-five—”

“Dad,” Judy moaned.

“I’m serious, don’t drive over the speed limit.”

Joy peered through the rear window. “What’s with that ugly blue blanket?”

“It protects the seats. Keep them covered when you’re not driving her. She’s an older car. You also need to get used to the way she handles. She’s heavier than your mom’s Mercedes, so it takes longer to brake and accelerate. She also takes wider turns.” He laughed lightly. “You’ve got me calling it a she.”

“Her name is Betty,” Judy announced.

“Really? That’s so stupid.”

“Joy, don’t start,” her mother warned.