I ran down the stairs and out the front door of the museum.

How could my dad do that to me? What was he thinking? He couldn’t get married! That meant Ms. Brock would be my stepmom!

My head was spinning as I started walking in the midday heat. What if Ms. Brock rearranged our furniture? What if she didn’t let me stay up late on weekends? What if she told me to use my “walking feet” or “inside voice” around the house? What if she hated spicy food and we stopped visiting Thailand because she could only eat plain rice and everything in our lives would be bland? Didn’t Dad love our family—our little team of two—as much as I did? We were perfect the way we were!

I kept walking. I wasn’t sure where I was going; I just knew I couldn’t be near the museum anymore. I didn’t want to go back to school, either. I made up my mind to walk to Mom’s house. It was about a twenty-minute drive, so I figured it would take me … an hour? I wasn’t sure, and honestly I didn’t care.

I hurried past the Cowgirl Museum and kept going through the empty stockyards. I turned left at the big arena where they had the rodeo. And then I turned left again.

And then—

Where was I?

My stomach fell. Was I lost?

My iPad was in my backpack, but it was useless since I had no Wi-Fi. So I couldn’t check a map or call my mom.

I wished I wasn’t on such a busy street.

I wished I wasn’t wearing new shoes. I had blisters on the backs of my heels.

I kept walking and walking for what felt like hours. I ate the smushed-up cheese sandwich that was in my bag while I walked. And then I walked even more.

And then everything got worse.

I heard a siren behind me.

Yes, Maya. A police siren.

I turned around and saw a blue-and-white police car stop beside me. The officer rolled down her window.

“Lucy Usathorn?” she said, looking me up and down.

Oh my goodness.

Was I going to get arrested?

“Yes?” I asked.

“I’m Officer Paperson. And there are a lot of people looking for you right now,” she said, her voice stern.

“There are?” I squeaked.

Was leaving a school trip early against the law?

The police officer in the passenger seat picked up a walkie-talkie. “The missing minor has been located.”

I burst into tears. My feet hurt, my chest hurt, and even my head hurt. And I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble.

“What’s going on?” Officer Paperson asked.

“I’m having a really bad day,” I told her.

The sky darkened and a gust of wind went through my clothes.

“Hmm, that’s weird,” said Officer Paperson. “Not supposed to rain today. You better hop in so we can take you home before it pours.”

I nodded and got in the back seat of the police car, hugging my backpack to my chest.

*  *  *

The police drove me to Mom’s house.

I dropped my backpack on the porch as my mom threw her arms around me.

“Lucy!” she cried. “What were you thinking, running away like that? We were so worried. I called the police!”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Mom had baby food on her cheek. Kyle was holding one of her hands and I could hear Kaylee shrieking from somewhere inside.

My stepdad, Ben, appeared in the doorway. “Lucy—thank goodness!” He tried to hug me, but he was holding his electric drill in one hand and a plank of wood in the other. Ben designs sets for the Casa de Arte Musical Theater. That’s where he and Mom met. Mom is a playwright.

Officer Paperson cleared her throat. “Young lady,” she said to me, “we are very glad you’re okay. But you can never run off like that again. Do you understand? You’ve wasted everyone’s valuable time and scared a lot of people.”

I hung my head. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m so sorry, too,” Mom said, pulling me inside. “We’ll talk to her.”

“Please do. Someone will follow up tomorrow.”

Follow up? Would I have to go down to the station? I felt sick.

“Okay,” Mom said. “Thank you.”

She closed the door and shook her head at me.

“What’s going on, Lucy? Your dad called me and said you ran off!”

“I need to sit down,” I said. My legs were rubbery from all the walking.

“Why are you wearing these clothes? And what happened to your sneakers?” Mom asked, seeing the stains.

I kicked my sneakers off and told her the same thing I’d told Dad: “Long story.”

Ben reached out for Kyle and swooped a shrieking Kaylee up out of her playpen. “Let me watch them so you two can talk.”

Mom and I left him bouncing both babies and went into the kitchen.

“I … everything went wrong,” I said finally. I moved a stuffed monkey and a board book to sit on a kitchen chair. “Jordana puked on me on the bus. And I messed up the scavenger hunt. And Olive is mad at me for some reason. And Dad—Dad—proposed to Ms. Brock!”

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Wow. I knew that he had fallen pretty hard for her, but I didn’t know he was planning on proposing.”

“Ugh, but why would he fall for her?”

“Karina seems like a very nice person, Lucy.”

“She isn’t! Dad doesn’t realize that she’s wrong for him.” For us.

“Maybe you should try to get to know her better …”

“I don’t want to know her at all!” My voice caught.

Mom sighed and took out her phone to call my dad. “She’s here,” Mom said into the phone. “The police dropped her off … Yes, the police … Walking … Lost, I think … She’s fine.” She tried to pass me the phone. “Your father wants to talk to you.”

I shook my head.

“Lucy—” she scolded.

Kaylee was still shrieking from the other room.

“No,” I said. I put my head down on the always-slightly-sticky table. “Not now.”

“Can you make sure that everyone at the school knows she’s home?” Mom asked Dad. “Thanks.” She ended the call. “You should never have left on your own,” she told me.

I didn’t respond.

“The school is furious,” she added. “And do you know how scared I was when your dad called me? You could have been kidnapped! Or run over! I know it was a stressful afternoon, but that’s no excuse for such irresponsible behavior.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my throat clenching up. “I wasn’t thinking.”

More shrieking from Kaylee. Now Kyle was wailing, too.

“Do you need to check on them?” I asked, my face still on the table. Possibly stuck to the table.

“Ben can handle them,” Mom said with a sigh. “Honey—I’m sorry today was hard. But everything will be okay.”

Everything would not be okay. My father was getting married again. Ms. Brock was going to move into my house. And who knew if Olive was even speaking to me.

Both babies shrieked even louder, as if they were competing to see who could break my eardrums faster. “Do they have to cry ALL THE TIME?” I snapped.

“Don’t take your anger out on them,” Mom said. “And you are definitely grounded, by the way. No friends and no screens for the next two weeks, at least.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

*  *  *

Eventually, I pulled myself off the table. I went to take a long, hot shower, but of course the bathtub was overflowing with the twins’ toys. So first I had to pick up all their water blocks and rubber ducks and pile them on the floor. Then I took my shower.

Back in my room, I put on my pajamas, even though it was only five o’clock.

I figured I’d do my homework. But wait, where was my backpack? Had I left it at the museum in all the mayhem?

Hmm, no. I’d had it with me in the police car.

I went back to the porch.

There it was.

And right beside my backpack was a small package.

A red box, about the size of a toaster, with a pink polka-dot stripe across it. There were stickers all over the box, a stamp, and … my name and address.

There was no return address.