Mom kidnapped me from Amanda B.’s house and locked me in the trunk of her car, which is really just the backseat of the car, which is a 1980s yellow Volkswagen beetle bug. Actually, the Volkswagen sounds like a beagle and doesn’t really have a trunk. I wished mom wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t sure where mom was taking me, but I saw a Fodor’s guide to New Mexico, so I guessed New Mexico or Fodor, which isn’t really a place on a map. It’s just a book with maps and ‘Best of’ lists. In record time we made it to Albuquerque. Mom supercharged on caffeine and beer and other stuff. We only stopped for gas twice and shared a hot dog with sauerkraut. Shoplifted a bottle of Coors Lite. I’m watching my figure, mom said like she always says. I think we’re headed for a rebirth in our relationship because mom mumbled something while sleep-driving between New Orleans and Dallas. She babbled something about Los Alomos and the Virgen de Guadalupe, the value of a nuclear family and keeping your legs shut. She wants to reorganize or revirginize me. Scrape the boys out of me. I heard a dog bark when she dumped me in the backseat as she sped away from Amanda B.’s house while Amanda B. held on to mom’s hair for dear life. It’ll grow back mom said as Amanda B., the B is for Bernstein and the B is always silent, shrunk to nothing in the rearview mirror. We’re not a family without the B., I said, as we spend away from Amanda B.’s. Bobo the Mutt backseat barking like a good dog. I was blind-folded and I couldn’t see anything and thus, therefore, I was able to see right through mom. Right through her plot to save my soul from Amanda B., to split us up into separate camps, and to show us she loves us even though she shows us something else.