When they were ready to leave (FINALLY, Daddy said—Helen, you have more stuff than Kohl’s), they all climbed into the car. Most of their stuff was in a little trailer hooked to the car. Jessie got to sit in the back with Johnny Bear surrounded by boxes, right on the cushion and not in a child seat. Mommy had let her sit like a grown-up since the beginning of this year, but it still made Jessie really excited. It helped her forget about leaving for a while. She felt like everyone was looking at her when they backed out of the driveway. Daddy had said once that New Yorkers are funny that way—they’ll just stop and stare for no reason one time, then walk right by someone in trouble the next. Jessie had never noticed that before. Daddy was pretty smart.

The drive was really long (ALL DAY) and she began to feel sleepy by lunchtime. Mommy and Daddy talked for a while, then they played the color game with her, and finally they turned on the radio and everyone was quiet. She looked out the window at the trees and houses, but the sky was cloudy and the road was so straight and long that her eyelids began to feel heavy as she watched the bit of rain roll in little drops across her sight.

She had just begun to dream about Johnny wearing her Care Bears jacket (give it back, she said, but he just shook his furry head) when all of the sudden she felt that jump in her heart again like she did on her third birthday when Gramma leaned over her, breathing cranberry and ginger. She fought against the dark that coated the inside of her head and then she was wide awake, staring, her heart pumping and her mind spinning and she was really SCARED, scared for no reason at all but just that she felt empty, black inside. She had opened her mouth to scream, and then choked it back; all that came out was a cough. And then all at once it filled her mind, overpowering her, like someone had snapped on a light. Oh my God it’s Johnny Bear, Johnny Bear and he doesn’t have a HEAD and then it was gone, just like that, and everything was okay again. She heard the scrape of the windshield wipers, and the hum of the motor, and the little drops of rain still rolled along her window, frosting the inside of the glass.