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It was easier than thinking about my fate. The car made a left turn and then I right. I tried to fix them in my brain, making a mental map while I counted my heartbeats.Then we went left again and stopped. We idled and idled. I trembled. Then the car lurched forward and made a right turn a dozen heartbeats later.Left, left, through an intersection, right.The car hit a pothole, bouncing me. The shocks groaned as I gasped. I shivered, the car slowing, turning left this time.Left, left, right, then ... No, intersection then right, then left again.The car drove, stopping at lights, making turns, moving farther and farther away from the Smithsonian. And with every turn, I had harder and harder time remembering the orders. Was it two left turns then right? And where was the pothole? And how would this even help anyways? It was so pointless trying to keep track.So frustrating.I wished right then that my intelligence serum would run out. I would give anything to be an airhead bimbo, not. She had as much spunk as her mom and knew how to use a break in the rhythm of an argument to take the offensive."I knocked him down in front of the court house and ... Don't you try to change the subject young lady," Susan admonished. "What are you doing home? Why aren't you in school? Jimmy Randal, if you are talking Mandy into skipping school there won't be enough of you left for your dad to tan."When Susan stopped to take a breath Mandy asked, "Mom, can I get dressed before you yell at me more. It's embarrassing standing here like this in front of a strange man."Susan looked at her daughter for a moment. She was still holding her blouse together but her hand was holding it to low and one breast was almost completely visible. The little pillow she was using did cover the lower essential parts but barely."Get dressed," Susan ordered her daughter before looking at the boy. "You get out of here NOW Jimmy. I'm going to be talking to your dad later. He never was too bright but maybe I.
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