“Yeah, I guess,” she conceded. They walked outside and Maggie locked the front door.
“At least you’re not going to have to worry about buses,” Christopher shouted. He was standing in the doorway of the shed next to the driveway. Maggie walked over and looked inside.
It was a car; at least technically. It looked like the unholy offspring of a quad-bike and a Mini Cooper. And it was Granny Smith apple green.
“At least you won’t get any tickets in that thing,” Christopher said. “The cops’ll be too busy laughing to stop you. I can see why they thought Dr. Stefanova was nuts.”
“Oh shut up.” For some reason, Maggie still felt she had to protect Charlotte even if it was almost fifty years since she had been the scared little kid Maggie had met. Even so, she had to admit it was an ugly car.