Margaret burst out laughing from the van window she'd already claimed. Patricia followed — a crack in her composure that split into a full laugh she tried and failed to hide behind her hand.
Celeste joined them with a bright, musical cackle that carried across the driveway.
Only after the laughter erupted did Emma realize she'd said that out loud — her thumb freezing mid-scroll, eyes going wide, mouth forming a small oh as the implications caught up with her.
"I am going to kill you, young girl," Mom said, but Emma was already running, phone still in hand, laughing as she sprinted toward the van with the zero-apology energy of a daughter who knew her mother wouldn't actually kill her and was fully prepared to test that theory to its absolute limit.
