The sudden stop threw Daisy forward in the back seat. Her forehead cracked against the headrest, and a lump swelled up instantly.
Bernice blamed the car.
Other drivers cursed at us the whole way.
I sat rigid in the back, clutching Tommy against my chest, and demanded again that Lambert take the wheel.
Bernice shut it down.
"He finally gets a chance to practice and you can't even let him have that?"
"You just look down on us. Admit it!"
Lambert frowned and said:
"Let him drive a little longer. I'm watching him—nothing's going to happen."
I was frantic. "This isn't about looking down on anyone! Safety comes first! If something happens, none of us can afford the consequences!"
Bernice just laughed, completely unbothered. "So what if something does happen? The car's yours. They'll come after you, not us. We're not responsible."
I was so stunned I couldn't speak.
She actually thought that way.
To squeeze in more time behind the wheel, Morton blew right past the second rest stop without slowing down.
I barely survived until the third one.
I told them I needed to make a bottle for Tommy. They needed the restroom anyway.
A taxi happened to be parked at the gas station.