Frannie’s On the MovePosted: March 4, 2016
She was dry and dusty and parched. Just the thought of that backseat-warm fruit punch in her (former) parents’ car would have been enough to make her mouth water, had she saliva to spare. The perky attitude she’d had when the woman in the red car had stopped had withered away in direct proportion to the amount of time she’d spent trudging along the side of the highway.
Frannie had never considered that a road might not see tires on its pavement for hours at a time. This experience was not shaping up as it should have.
Just as she was vowing to herself to make do with the next set of parents that rolled by, an old brown minivan squealed to a stop right next to her. The sliding door popped open to release a great big cloud of smoke, and Frannie waved her hand back and forth, trying to clear it enough to see who her knight in shining armor was.
“Hey, little dude, hop in. We’ll give you a ride,” said the driver, who Frannie judged near enough to the proper age to be her new dad.
“Okay,” she quickly agreed. This day had dragged on far too long for her to be picky.
She climbed right in and wiggled herself into a comfy spot on the middle bench seat, next to a girl with funny hair. Frannie smiled at the girl–maybe that was her new mom. The girl smiled back.
Frannie already felt a million times better, in spite of the acrid smell in the van. Maybe this adventure wasn’t going to be so bad after all.