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much,” Dr. Kay answered. “Keep on riding and exercising her, and don’t change her feed for now. We’ll check her again in a month, make sure everything’s where it belongs. Then it’s hurry up and wait.”
    “345 days, give or take,” I said. “Only 330 to go.”
    “Give or take,” said Dr. Kay. She gave Bonnie one last pat and me one last smile, and packed up and drove off to her next appointment.

    Lunch was also our weekly Skype with Aunt Jessie—live from beautiful Luxor, as she liked to put it. The only reason I even did it was because Mom trapped me.
    Mom showed up at the barn just before I was about to take off with Cat and Kristen. I couldn’t very well not show her the rest of the ultrasound pictures, or refuse to let her love on Bonnie and tell her what a wonderful, amazing, miraculous horse she was.
    Then Mom said handed me the car keys and said, “You’re driving home.”
    Bribery works. Cat grinned at me. “See you tonight,” she said.
    “Turtle time,” I agreed.
    Mom didn’t gloat. That wasn’t how she operated. She kissed Bonnie’s nose and fed her the last carrot in the bag.
    I had the car started and the A/C blasting by the time she tore herself away from Bonnie. “When I grow up,” I said, “I’m moving to Iceland.”
    “Not Antarctica?”
    “No horses.”
    “Point,” she said, strapping herself in.
    I drove carefully, minding my driver’s education manual. I swear the road got rougher every time I went down it.
    Mom was quiet. Dozing, I noticed. She did a lot of that these days.
    I thought about slowing down even more, but my back teeth were already rattling out of my head. Mom only flinched at the worst of the bumps. By the time we reached the blissful smoothness of the paved road, she was sound asleep.
    I’d exhausted my worry quota months ago. I told myself she was doing this to wear me down till I gave in about Egypt. I really couldn’t go now, could I? Dr. Kay was coming back in a month. Somebody had to be there for that.

    We had lunch with Aunt Jessie—virtually. It was dinnertime over there. We put my laptop at her usual place at the table and ate our ham and cheese while she ate her chicken and veg.
    I didn’t have much to say. Mom was all full of Bonnie and the ultrasound and the baby.
    Finally she stopped pushing it and picked at her sandwich, which she’d eaten a whole quarter of. Aunt Jessie in Luxor was mopping the bottom of her bowl with a chunk of bread.
    I peeled my dessert orange piece by piece.
    “All right,” Aunt Jessie said to me. “So that didn’t go well, did it? Still hate surprises?”
    “Hate,” I said to the pile of orange peel. “Not coming. I’m sorry.”
    “No, you’re not sorry,” she said, “and yes, you’re coming. Check your email. There’s a shopping list. You’re good on shots—while you’re getting your hate on, hate Dr. Meldrum, he gave you one or two last month that weren’t on the school list for fall.”
    That didn’t surprise me at all. “Is that even legal?”
    “Minor child,” Aunt Jessie said with complete lack of remorse. “Parental discretion. It’s for your own good. Once you get here, you’ll love it. Or I’ll be working you so hard you won’t have time to hate it.”
    “What if I just won’t get on the plane? I’ll show up with a gallon of hair gel and a riding whip. Raise a stink in the naked scanner.”
    “Get arrested. End up on a terrorist watch list. Get hauled off to juvie. Is that what you still call it?” Aunt Jessie grinned. Even through the blurry, jerky screen I could see how much fun she was having. “As long as you’re going to spend your summer in durance vile, you might as well spend it here. The food is better and the doors unlock from the inside.”
    “You’d better hope I don’t spend my time learning ancient Egyptian curses. I’ll put one on you.”
    “I’ll curse you back,” she said cheerfully. “And I’ve had ’way more practice. See you next Friday.