When she looked out her window, she saw some elegant blond people in a Lexus in the next lane over, giggling into fists as they gawked at the Omni. Poppy could feel a familiar and deeply unpleasant volatility stirring inside her. Being around rich people made her feel small and precarious. It made her want to be mean.

She glanced backwards over her shoulder to make sure both Ryan and Alex were still asleep, and they were. She said to John, “Did you see those people staring? Looking at us like we’re from the goddamn moon.”

“What people?”

“In the Lexus.”

John said, “Who cares?”

Poppy gazed out her window. She was sweating. On full blast, the AC offered only an abysmal lukewarm breeze that smelled weird. She opened her window a few inches to see if she could catch some fresh air. The Omni buzzed while idling and sounded more like a lawnmower than any sort of vehicle for transportation.

“I just find rich people so . . . useless and predictable,” she said.

John chuckled. He was a big bear of a man, six foot six and three hundred pounds, and when he laughed, his belly jerked around beneath his shirt like it was trying to make a break for it. He said, “We talked about this, though, Pop. You’re the one convinced me this would be a good time.”

“I know, I know, I know,” she muttered. “I’ll be fine once we get ourselves settled. I’m just in a mood. How’s your back?”

“It’s fine,” John said, shifting in his seat, far too big for this car, arching his shoulders in a stretch. The muscles of his neck bulged. “I’ll be ready for a pill soon as we get there.”

Poppy looked at the digital clock. “I’m glad the higher dose isn’t messing with your stomach.”

John said, “I swear they’re doin’ something to my sense of smell, though. Ever since they started me on these ones, coffee don’t smell like coffee. And my short-term memory’s for shit. Speaking of, what’s their older one’s name again?”

“Rae,” said Poppy. She reached for her purse at her feet, pulled out a piece of Big Red. “She starts high school this fall.”

“And the younger one is Kimmy, right?”

Poppy nodded. She folded the gum into thirds on her tongue, balled up the foil wrapper, and set it loose, hip-pety-hopping across the dashboard. “Kimmy’s just a few months older than Alex,” she said. “And I did warn Lisa about Alex, by the way, just so there’s no . . . confusion.”

The two of them shared a smile, and Poppy glanced over her shoulder again to make sure both kids were still sleeping.

John said, “What did Lisa say?”

“She said, ‘You know, there’s a transgendered in Rae’s class.’ ”

John made a face like he’d walked into a spider web.

Just a few months earlier, Alex had announced that she wanted to go by “Alex” instead of “Alexis.” Several days later, she had cut off her foot-long black ponytail, then asked Poppy to finish it off with electric clippers, a buzz cut, like she had seen Poppy do for Ryan many times. There had been no talk of changing pronouns, using the boys’ restroom, or switching from the softball team to the baseball team. Nothing like that. But Alex was reveling in her new look, that much was clear, asking for a fresh buzz cut every week or so since the first.