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parking lot. The teenager on the bike had to swerve out of the way to avoid it. A crate of corn toppled out of the truck, and a few ears tumbled out and rolled into the street. Sancho snorted and took a tentative step forward, snatching an ear of corn with his teeth.
    â€œNot the best time for a snack, buddy,” Danya said as the truck engine sputtered off. Sancho kept munching away, and kernels of corn stuck to his lips and nose.
    The truck was old and a little rickety, the kind with a big, open flatbed enclosed on three sides by thick wooden planks. It sort of looked like a wooden wagon. Crates of vegetables filled the back, stacked up against the planks in uneven columns. The license plate read SANDY .
    The man who climbed out of the truck wore a knee-length flannel kilt that looked a lot like Danya’s favorite plaid skirt. He paired the kilt with leather combat boots, a bright blue baseball cap, and a T-shirt with the words VISUALIZE WHIRLED PEAS written across it. With a grunt, he hoisted the crate of corn onto his shoulder.
    â€œHey there, little ladies,” he said, spotting Danya and Pia. “Y’all know where the highway is?” He heaved the crate of corn into the back of the truck and attempted to slam the gate closed. A rabbit’s foot dangled from the key chain on his belt. “I’m heading south and must have got turned around.”
    South, south, south.
The word was like a drumbeat in Danya’s ears. They were heading south, too.
    â€œJust go straight along this road, I think,” Danya said. The man thanked her.
    â€œIsn’t it a little late for youngsters like yourselves?” he said, scratching his chin. “I mean, it’s gotta be at least six o’clock!”
    Danya didn’t know what to say. It was much, much later than six o’clock, but if she told the man that, he’d be even more suspicious. Instead she just shrugged. “You’re right, we should probably start home soon.”
    The man tipped his baseball cap at that and started toward the gas station. Suddenly Pia sat up, a strange spark in her eye.
    â€œI have a plan,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “You wait here.”
    While the driver was busy inside the gas station, Pia darted across the parking lot to the truck and loaded her arms up with fresh ears of corn. Sancho’s ears perked up, and he started trotting toward her.
    â€œWhoa!” Danya wrapped Sancho’s reins around her fingers and pulled back while Pia scrambled into the back of the truck, backing up between the crates of vegetables.
    â€œHere, Sancho . . .” she said, waving the corn at him.
    â€œPia, what are you doing?” Danya hissed. She glanced at the gas station, but the driver was busy paying the cashier and didn’t seem to notice them.
    â€œI’m getting us a ride to Florida,” Pia said. “You heard what he said. He’s going south.”
    Danya rolled her lower lip between her teeth. This was a bad, bad, bad idea.
    â€œCome on, Pia, let’s just walk. The highway can’t be much farther.”
    â€œYeah, maybe, and what are we going to do then? You think we can walk all the way to Florida? We nearly collapsed just trying to make it out of Kentucky!”
    Danya pressed her lips together. Her cousin had a point there. Sancho tugged on his reins again, letting out an approving “neigh.”
    â€œFine,” she hissed. With one more glance at the gas station, she tugged Sancho’s ear. Sancho trotted forward and nudged the back of the truck. Danya slid off his back while Pia wiggled the ear of corn in front of his nose. Drooling a little, Sancho scrambled into the flatbed.
    He was a teensy bit too short to make it all the way. Danya slid off his back and nudged his bottom with her shoulder.
    â€œHurry, Pia!” Danya climbed into the flatbed and hid Sancho between two stacks of wooden crates, then coaxed him down so he