25. Benji

BENJI

I held onto my safety belt, my hands white-knuckled, as Maggie rocketed along the road to Eau Claire, giving too much attention to the dash—which she pounded with her fist—and not enough attention to the road.

“Does anyone want the heat on?” she said, thumping the dash till the radio started playing WHAM’s “ Last Christmas .”

“Can we please not listen to this song?” I said. “It’s a breakup song. Can we change the station?”

“That’s exactly what your ex-boyfriend said when I picked him up a few days ago.”

“Actually,” said Dad. “We’re hoping they’re not ex-boyfriends anymore.”

“Really?” asked Maggie. “Because when I drove him to the airport this morning, I could have sworn any chances of you guys getting back together were kaput. Nada. Zero.”

“I’m just gonna change the station,” I said.

“Oh, good luck with that,” chuckled Maggie.

I ignored her and hit the button, flipping the dial to the next station.

WHAM turned up again.

And again.

And again.

Connie leaned forward from the back seat. “Give up, Cuz. WHAMaggedon is real.”

I tried to turn the radio off, but Maggie shook her head. “You gotta do it like this.” With a whack of her fist, she hit the dash. Suddenly the radio turned off and the heater turned on. “How’s that?” Maggie said, turning her rear-view mirror to see the passengers in the back. “Everyone comfortable?”

That’s when she saw Mom flicking her head and hands violently in the back seat.

“Oh, dear God!” exclaimed Maggie. “Your Mom’s having a seizure!”

“Mom?” There was panic in my voice as I turned to the back seat. “Oh my God. Mom, are you all right? Stop the car!”

“Don’t stop the car! I’m not having a seizure!” Mom was holding her iPad in front of her as she moved her head quickly to the left, then flung it to the right, then flipped her hair with a wavering hand. “I’m trying to unlock the iPad. It’s this damn facial recognition. I can never remember exactly how I shooed that silly fly away.”

“You tried to swat it with your left hand,” Dad said.

“Like this?”

“No, maybe it was your right hand.”

“Like that?”

“And you tried to blow it away, like it was sitting on your nose and it made you go cross-eyed.”

“Like this?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” I reached back and snatched the iPad out of Mom’s hands. “Just bypass facial recognition and enter your six-digit password.”

“Oh darling, with all this facial recognition nonsense going on, your father and I can’t even remember our password anymore.”

“I do.” I punched the code into the security panel on the device. “It’s Bastian’s birthday.”

Mom and Dad both nodded, bright-eyed. “That’s right!” Dad said.

“Of course it is,” Mom agreed. “How could we forget?”

“Honestly I’m not sure, but anyway…” I flicked through the iPad menu and found Mom’s favorite app. “Here you go. Plane Tracker.” I handed the device back to Mom and continued clinging to my safety belt, holding my breath as the Chevy almost took flight over the crest of another hill.

In back, Mom tapped away at her iPad. “Got it! The flight to Chicago is at the gate. Status says ‘Boarding Now.’”

“We’re never gonna make it,” I said.

We zoomed past a road sign and Connie shouted, “Yes, we will, Cuz. That sign just said fifteen miles to Eau Claire.”

Maggie punched the gears. “You want a Christmas miracle… then let Maggie the miracle worker weave her magic.”

She hit the gas, and in that moment, I was pretty sure the old Chevy went faster than it had ever gone in its entire life.