We’d steamed up the windows too bad for me to be sure who knocked. My step–mom opened the door on Bridget Li. “Come with us,” Gwyn’s mom said, her voice low and urgent. “Now!” said Gwyn, standing behind her mom. “We’re getting you to safety. Come on!” “What are you talking about?” asked Sylvia. Gwyn reached out a hand. “Sam, now!” My step–mom looked at me and then at my friend. Gwyn’s eyes were over–large and focused on me. “Let’s go,” I said. “I’ll explain in Bridget’s car.” As we stepped into the icy pre–dawn air, my eyes flew wide. There had to be fifty or more cars lining the side of the highway, gawking at the smoldering ruin of my home. “Christian up front,” barked Gwyn, reserving the back for herself, Sylvia, and me. Her mom’s Mini Cooper held us, barely. In the front seat, Christian hunched over his long legs, easily as squashed as us. Although he didn’t have two cats crawling over his feet, trying to find a place to settle.
