Dad rubbed Mom’s head. “You look beautiful, honey.”
“I look like Sinead O’Connor.”
“Who?” I asked.
She frowned. “Please don’t,” she said, looking baldly miffed.
I shrugged. I thought she looked pretty nifty, actually. Hipster cool. Especially in all that snug red. In any case, I turned to Britney. “Ready?”
Once again, her hands were waving at the screen as if she’d seen a friend she hadn’t run into in ages. In other words, or word, frantically. “Almost,” she said. “Everyone vacate. I’ll be outside in a minute. Then walk away fast because I can, it seems, only program this truck for five Earth minutes out.”
I gulped. “That enough time to get away?”
She shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”
We all stared at her as if she was crazy. Then again, all of this was crazy, so her comment was si
