Dan nodded.
“All right, uh, Annabeth and her new car!” Dan declared with a fake smile. I didn’t care.
“I have a car!” I cheered. My parents ran down from their seats.
“Woohoo, Annabeth! Wooooo!” My mom cheered.
“Now, you can’t drive it until you have your permit, or when you are learning to drive-” My dad began. I laughed. I couldn’t believe I had a car.
“And that’s our show! Ten, er thirteen year olds are winning cars!” Dan ended. “CUT!” The audience cheered. Someone yelled, “I love you, Dan!” Dan chuckled and embraced the applause.
“You all are supposed to leave, but scrap that! Autographs for the next twenty minutes!” Dan announced. The audience shrieked and rushed down to get a spot in line. My parents and I were shoved aside by the wave of people yelling, “Dan! Sign my shirt! Dan, sign my shoe! Dan!” My parents chuckled as they examined my car.
“Brand new, too!” My dad exclaimed. I beamed.
“Wow, I can’t wait to get my permit!” I sighed.
“So, I guess there’s only one way to get this home…” My dad smiled.
“You’re right.” I joked. “We will have to call a tow truck.” My dad looked confused but smiled as I burst into laughter.
“All, right.” My mom said. “Dave, you can drive it home-”
“Yes!”
“And Annabeth can ride in it. I’ll drive our car home.” My mom continued. I grinned so hard, I thought my face would melt off.
“All right, where are the keys to this hot rod?” My dad joked. I rolled my eyes.
“Hot rod?” I muttered, smiling. “You couldn’t have thought of a better name?” A woman in a maroon dress sauntered over with the keys.
“Thank you, madam!” My dad bowed sillily. He accepted the keys and tossed them in the air. The keys read, ‘Nimari’.
“I can’t believe it’s a Nimari!” I exclaimed. “Like, the fanciest car ever!” The maroon-dressed lady told us we could turn the car around and there was an exit behind the blue curtain.
“Cool!” I yelled as we went inside.
“Ooh-hoo, I might even take this baby shopping!” My dad put in the keys. “Or to work to impress Mr. Winston!”
“Uh, actually it’s mine so I get to decide where and when you can take it.”
“Dang it!”
“You can occasionally take it places as long as you don’t destroy it.” I decided.
“Yes! Oh, Mr. Winston, your Lundun isn’t the coolest car around anymore!”
“Yeah, and neither is yours. Mine is, though.” I reminded him.
“Anyway, let’s get going!” He started the car and wowed. I made a mental note to count how many times he ‘wowed’ in the next fifteen minutes. He tuned on the radio. He listened to Gianna Baylor for two seconds and switched it to the news.
“Game show host Brady McHad is killed! He is the third game show host killed this month. Authorities decide Dan Atnole, host of Game Shows Weekly, will take over. Police don’t have a suspect or-” My dad changed it to music.
“Well...that’s a great thing to listen to after a game show. Hope Dan Atnole won’t be…” We drove in silence for a minute.
“Wanna stop and get ice cream?” My dad asked suddenly.
“Yeah!” We stopped at my favorite ice cream place, Lisa’s. Dad was in such a good mood, he let me get a Double Fudgy Brownie sundae. He got mocha coffee gross-ness on a cone, and I suggested we get my mom her favorite, Belgian Cocoa Cream in a cone. When we got home, my mom was already there, sitting on the couch. I had made sure my dad carefully parked my car. My car. My very own!
“What took you guys so long?” Mom asked. “Did Dad take a wrong turn? Again?”
“Oh, come on! I take one wrong turn and it lives with me my whole life?” My dad complained.
“We got ice cream.” I interrupted. “Here’s your Belgian Cocoa Cream!”
“Thanks.” My mom accepted the ice cream. “Well, you can’t drive it until you at least are learning how, or get your permit. But you can ride in it when we go on errands.”
“I guess, if I allow you to use my car.” I half-joked, half-reminded her.
“I hope you were joking.”
“Mostly.”