The sports car, its engine still revving high and loud, raced into a table leg, breaking it to bits and bringing the table down on top of Jace.

Then the car bounced off a chair, slammed into the kitchen wall, and stopped. The engine went quiet.

Jace sat under the half-fallen table, holding his breath, wondering if the car would start again. After a moment, he crawled slowly out from the wreckage—right into his mom’s leg.

“What happened in here?!” she asked. “What in the world—”

Jace got to his feet. He looked at Ruth, hoping she might help him explain.

His sister had heard the revving engine, after all. She saw the car lurch at him, didn’t she? The car had come to life! It had attacked Jace!

Ruth didn’t say anything, though. She just sniffed and wiped the tears and boogers from her little cheeks.

Mom tapped her foot. “Well?” she said. “What happened, Jace? I need an answer right now. I’ve had enough.”

Jace looked up at her, then at his feet. “The car came to life,” he said.

“I’m sorry?” Mom said, shaking her head. “You’ll have to repeat yourself. I thought I heard you say, ‘The car came to life.’”

Jace nodded. “It did,” he muttered.

“That’s it,” Mom said. She pointed at the staircase. “Go to your room. And I don’t want to see you until it’s time to leave for school tomorrow morning.”

“Mom, seriously,” Jace said.

“Go,” Mom said. “I’m going to count to three.”

“But it’s true! I’m not lying!” Jace pleaded, his voice straining. “I didn’t do anything! The car attacked me!”

“One,” his mom said. She crossed her arms.

“This is so unfair,” Jace insisted. “Mom. Please believe me. I didn’t do this. I swear!”

“Two,” Mom said. She put her hands on her hips.

“Fine!” Jace snapped. “I’m going, I’m going.” He shot Ruth a glare, and then headed upstairs.