Glenn’s shoes sounded loud on the concrete as we made our way back to the front gate without the help of Matt and his golf cart.

“You’ll tell everyone good-bye for me?” I asked, meaning Nick.

“Sure.” His eyes were on the huge signs with their letters and arrows pointing to the exits. The sun was warm when we found it, and I relaxed as I went to stand at the bus stop. Glenn came to a halt beside me and handed me my hat. “About your fee—” he started.

“Glenn,” I said as I put it on, “like I told your dad, don’t worry about it. I’m grateful for them paying off my I.S. contract, and with the two thousand Trent gave me, I’ve enough to see me through until my arm heals.”

“Would you shut up?” he said, digging in his pocket. “We worked something out.”

I turned, my gaze dropping to the key in his hands and then rising to his eyes.

“We couldn’t get approval to reimburse you for the canceled class, but there was this car in impound. The insurance agency salvaged the title, so we couldn’t put it up for auction.”

A car? Edden was going to give me a car?

Glenn’s brown eyes were bright. “We got the clutch and the transmission repaired. There was something wrong with the electrical system, too, but the FIB garage guys fixed it, no charge. We would have gotten it to you sooner,” he said, “but the DMV office didn’t understand what I was trying to do so it took three trips down there to get it transferred to your name.”

“You guys bought me a car?” I said, excitement bubbling up into my voice.

Glenn grinned and handed me a zebra-striped key on a purple rabbit’s foot key chain. “The money the FIB put into it just about equals what we owed you. I’ll drive you home. It’s a stick, and I don’t think you can handle shifting gears yet with your arm.”

Heart suddenly pounding, I fell into step beside him, scanning the lot. “Which one?”

Glenn pointed, and the sound of my heels on the pavement faltered as I saw the red convertible, recognizing it. “That’s Francis’s car,” I said, not sure what I was feeling.

“That’s okay, isn’t it?” Glenn asked, suddenly concerned. “It was going to be scrapped. You aren’t superstitious, are you?”

“Um …” I stammered, drawn forward by the shiny red paint. I touched it, feeling the clean smoothness. The top was down, and I turned, smiling. Glenn’s worried frown eased into relief. “Thank you,” I whispered, not believing it was really mine. It was mine?

Steps light, I walked to the front, then the back. It had a new vanity plate: RUNNIN’. It was perfect. “It’s mine?” I said, heart racing.

“Go on, get in,” Glenn said, his face transformed by his pleased enthusiasm.

“It’s wonderful,” I said, refusing to cry. No more expired bus passes. No more standing in the cold. No more disguise charms just so they would pick me up.