“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” said the driver, and Maren wanted to scream, because she didn’t care how they got to the shop; it just needed to be faster than Obscura could get there.

“Applewood.” Amos had his phone out, too, and the map on his screen was a web of red lines.

The driver cut a hard left. Maren gripped the seat and breathed slowly, in through her nose and out through her mouth. In and out. Everything would be okay. She just had to keep telling herself that until it was true.

Step toe toe heel step heel.

“All the way out here,” the driver muttered as they rolled up to a long line of cars. He consulted his phone again, then swung them into a violent U-turn that slammed Maren’s head against Amos’s shoulder.

“I know we said we’re in a hurry, but do you think you could slow down a little?” Amos turned to Maren. “You okay?”

“No, please keep driving like that,” she said. “I have to tell Gran-Gran before she does.”

Again, the driver’s eyes met hers in the mirror, and it was probably just idle curiosity, but Maren wondered if there was more than that. For all she knew, Obscura had planted this taxi at the hospital and hired the driver to snatch her if she tried to run.

“All right, kid, be honest with me now,” said the driver, and for a moment Maren thought he was about to reveal he was in cahoots with Obscura, but then he continued: “How big of an emergency is this?”

“Massive,” she said. “Colossal.”

“Titanic-sized,” added Amos, though he had no idea.

“All right then.” The driver bumped two wheels up over the sidewalk and steered around a roadblock barrier. Main Street swarmed with damp tourists, costumed performers on stilts, and heart-stoppingly daring acrobats. Maren’s heart sank down to her knees. They’d never make it through. But the driver didn’t stop; he slowed to a crawl and laid on his horn.

“Watch out!” he yelled through his open window as the taxi inched into the crowd. “Coming through.”

A massive float rolled past, decorated with seashells and fishing nets. On top, a band of people dressed as mermaids played guitars and keyboards. The silvery rain gave their scaly costumes an extra sparkle. Behind the float, a troupe of pirate-clowns jogged and skipped, juggling plastic cutlasses and handing out chocolate coins.

In one smooth motion, the taxi slipped into the parade, behind a woman wearing a rainbow wig and riding a unicycle. She blew singing bubbles into the crowd, but the mermaid band drowned out their songs.

“Smile and wave,” said the driver, lowering all the windows of the taxi. “Act like we’re supposed to be here.”