Page 112 of The Pocket Pair

I swallow down a sudden lump in my throat. “Thanks.”

Pat pulls away, then pushes a button that makes the automatic door slide open. Jo leaps out and practically knocks me flat on the sidewalk.

“Did you grow, Jojo?”

“I did. Dad says I get my height from him.” She gives Pat a quick glance and then lowers her voice. “But I know that’s not how DNA works. I just play along. Here’s your card!”

She shoves a construction paper card in my face. There’s a crow on the front with a shiny something in his beak. “Great drawing! Did you ever get that charm bracelet yet from the crows?” I touch the shiny silver pieces jangling on her wrist.

Pat scoops her up before she can answer and holds her above his head—those Grahams and their biceps!—spinning her until she squeals. “The crows still come and demand food, but as far as them bringing gifts, so far, it’s a bust,” he says.

“I’d offer you the front, but I get carsick,” Lindy says. She glares down at what has to be the cutest baby bump ever bumped. “Bad baby! Bad!”

“You know by this stage of development, the baby can hear you,” I point out.

Lindy blinks at me. “I know that. But how do you know that?”

I shrug. “I’ve been reading this mom blog so I can be the most supportive friend possible.”

For a moment, Lindy’s jaw goes slack. Then her eyes get watery, and she wraps me up in another hug. At this rate, I’m never going to see Chevy again.

“That’s so nice,” she says, sniffling.

“Mom’s crying again,” Jo says with a sigh.

“Better adjust the board,” Pat says, setting Jo down. She hops in the car and pulls out a small dry erase board that says, Number of Hours Without Tears, and erases the two to write in a zero.

“I can’t help it!” Lindy says through a sob. “I hate crying! It’s the mean baby!”

“I know, darlin’. I know. Now, let’s get you in the car.” Pat gently peels Lindy off me, then winks as he walks her around the front of the car. “We’ve got places to be!”

Places to be and Chevys to see! Pat doesn’t need to tell me twice.

* * *

“This isn’t home,” I say as Pat pulls up to the curb downtown. I can see a lot of signs of change. More people. More businesses open. Definitely no open parking spaces. It’s dusk, and the strings of lights are just winking to life.

“Consider yourself kidnapped,” Pat says, winking at me in the rearview mirror.

Lindy turns around and hands a bandana to Jo. “Blindfold Val, would you?”

“Gladly,” Jo says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask.

“Yes,” all three say at once. In utero, the mini-Lindy is probably nodding along as well. A minute later, Lindy takes my arm, helping me out of the van. I stumble a little, and Pat takes my other arm.

My stomach is full of all kinds of nervous flying things: butterflies, birds, and maybe even a dragon or two. “Can I ask for a clue?”

“Nope,” Lindy says cheerfully. “Step up.”

Carefully, Pat and Lindy lead me somewhere, and I can feel a blast of air conditioning as a door opens. “Another little step,” Pat tells me as I take probably too large of a step over a threshold. “And now’s the time we let you go.”

“Let me go? But—”

“You can take off the blindfold, Tiny.”

That familiar voice, laced with a smile, sends a thrill through me. I rip off the blindfold and blink—my eyes and brain both trying to adjust to what’s before me.

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