“I don’t get it,” I said. “How did this even happen?”

“Actually, it wasn’t me who got you the interview,” Mom said.

I looked over at Grandma.

“Don’t look at me, Ralphie,” she said. “I’m as confused as you are.”

“It was Ms. Donatello,” Mom said, and my head snapped back to her like I was watching tennis.

“Wha-huh?”

“In fact”—Mom pointed across the street from where we’d just parked—“there she is right now.”