It was hot. Really hot. Jace Thomas sat in the passenger seat of his dad’s car as it inched along the highway.

The passenger seat of his dad’s car, Jace thought, was probably the hottest place on earth.

“I see trees, Daddy!” shouted Jace’s little sister, Ruth, from the backseat. She was almost three years old. “Daddy! Look! I see trees!”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Dad said. Then he punched the steering wheel and shouted, “Come on! What’s the hold-up?”

Jace leaned back in his seat and let his arm hang out the window. Dad’s horn-honking didn’t help. The traffic just wouldn’t budge. They’d been sitting on the highway getting hotter and hotter for almost an hour. Jace just stared at the road sign a few feet up on the side of the road. It read, “Next exit: Ravens Pass.”

Someone had spray-painted on the sign: “Turn back now!”

“Dad,” Jace said. He fiddled with the vents, but it didn’t help. The air-conditioning in Dad’s car hadn’t worked in years. “Can’t we take the streets? We’ve been here for hours!”

Dad glanced at Jace. Then he checked the rearview mirror. Ruth was handling it okay, but soon she’d start fussing. She bounced in her car seat, muttering, “I see trees. I see trees.”

“I don’t know, Jace,” Dad said. He patted at the sweat on his bald head. “I’ve never been to Ravens Pass before, and I’d really hate to get us lost way out here.”

“At least we’d be moving,” Jace mumbled. “A breeze would help cool us off.”

Ruth said quietly, “I hungry, Daddy.”

“Uh oh,” Dad said.

“I hungry, Daddy,” Ruth said, a little louder. “I hungry. I hungry.”

“Dad, we have to get moving,” Jace said. He turned and looked back at his sister. “Now!”

Ruth took a deep breath. “Daddy!” she shouted. “I hungry!”

“Here we go!” Dad said. And then he slammed on the gas and swerved onto the shoulder.

With the two right wheels of the car in the gravel, he sped toward the Ravens Pass exit.