Inside, a waitress carrying two giant foaming pitchers of beer told them to seat themselves. Pulling up, Zadie had wondered if the name Dry County was ironic or not. Based on the size of the pitchers, it clearly was. The room was dim, illuminated only by the neon signs above the bar and strings of lights threaded through drop panels in the ceiling. One whole wall was covered in old license plates, a reminder that this was a place for travelers, just another stop on a long journey.

Finn plopped herself down at the closest table and picked up a menu. “I hope they have chicken fingers. And honey mustard.”

Zadie smiled to herself. When Finn was little, they always used to split an order, although Zadie usually opted for ketchup over mustard. “I might get the same,” she said. “And a salad, so I can say I ate something healthy today.” So far that day, all she’d eaten was a string cheese that she’d bought at a gas station. She had been too nauseated that morning to eat anything and was in serious caffeine withdrawal. The Star formerly known as Ladybug must have appreciated the gesture, because it hadn’t made her throw up even once that day.

The girls ordered their chicken fingers and a basket of fries to share. As they waited for their food, Zadie watched a small crew of people prepping the stage at the far end of the bar. “There must be a band playing tonight,” she said.

Finn looked over her shoulder at the stage. “That’s not a band,” she said, glee glazing her voice. She turned back around, eyes twinkling. “That’s a karaoke machine.”

“Nope.”

“It’s fate.”

“Absolutely not.”

Zadie scrunched her left eye closed, a spinning disco ball reflecting in her right, bright white sparks that gave off the illusion of genius. The bearded man onstage chuckled into the microphone nervously as his friends whistled at him from the back of the room. Zadie held her stare for a few more seconds, then turned to her sister and said, “Michael Jackson. ‘Beat It.’”

Finn raised one eyebrow. “You sure?”

Zadie was not sure. Her premonition had been fuzzy. All she’d been able to glean from it was that the first letter of the song started with a B. That was like guessing one letter correctly on Wheel of Fortune and going straight for the win. “Uh … yes?”

The song that began to play did start with a B, but it was not performed by Michael Jackson. It was by America’s most famous flightless Eagle, Don Henley.

“Did I say ‘Beat It’? I meant ‘Boys of Summer.’”

“So close,” Finn said sarcastically.