SHE LEADS HIM by the hand back to the El Camino. “Make room for your brother, Sheldon. Go stand by Ed.”
Sheldon laughs, good-naturedly but not wholly sincere. “Oh, that’s how we’ll fit.”
He goes and stands by Ed.
“I’ll just go on back home, I guess,” drawls B.B.
They form a semi-circle around the engine compartment, the sun dipping below the horizon—the Kid at the driver’s side, standing on tip-toe, hands on the fender; Sheldon and Fast Eddy opposite, Mom and Dad at the grill. The tip of the sun casts long shadows across the pavement and over the engine compartment. Aside from the whirring of the engine and a handful of robins, there is complete silence, as though they are praying.
“What are we looking at?” his mother says softly.
The Kid listens, staring at the humming engine.
