Driving Team by Bonnie Bryant

here with her mother this afternoon. She said her mother might come back and pick her up early.”
    “Well, if her mother stashes her at the library, she could easily stash her in some toy store here.” Stevie shrugged. “It’s a possibility, anyway.”
    Lisa and Carole looked at each other, knowing thatthis plan had Stevie’s fingerprints all over it, which meant it could end in disaster. But neither of them could think of anything else to do, and they both wanted to help the little girl.
    “Well, okay,” said Carole. “Who’s going to be Cynthia?”
    “I vote for Lisa,” Stevie said. “She’s the most logical, and the woman who thought I was after the toaster may have already described me to security!”
    “I don’t know,” Lisa said. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
    “Don’t worry,” said Stevie. “Carole and I will be close by, and if anything goes wrong, we’ll create a diversion.”
    “Yeah, I bet.” Lisa rolled her eyes. She looked at Carole and sighed. “Well, okay. Here goes nothing.”
    Stevie and Carole watched as Lisa walked over to the security station. She talked to a lady in a blue uniform for a moment; then suddenly the bouncy mall music stopped and a voice blared over the speakers.
    “Shoppers, could I have your attention, please? Would a woman carrying a red pocketbook please come to the central security station? Your daughter Cynthia is here waiting for you.”
    Stevie gave Carole a high five. “It worked!” she crowed. “Lisa’s a genius!”
    “Right,” agreed Carole. “Now let’s just see who comes to get little Cynthia.”
    The girls sat and watched. It seemed as if hundreds of shoppers passed by, but not one person with a red pocketbook stopped at the security station. Suddenly Stevie jumped up.
    “What is it?” asked Carole.
    “It’s Mrs. Atwood,” replied Stevie. “Dead ahead!”
    “Lisa?” Already they could hear Mrs. Atwood’s confused voice. “Why are you talking to the security guard? Has there been some kind of problem?”
    “Uh, no, Mom,” Lisa’s face turned red. “I just got separated from you.”
    “Are you Cynthia’s mother?” The guard looked down at Mrs. Atwood.
    “Cynthia?” Mrs. Atwood frowned.
    “Look!” Stevie shrieked. “There’s Cynthia!” She and Carole ran over and hugged Lisa as if they hadn’t seen her in years.
    “Cynthia?” Mrs. Atwood repeated. “You mean Lisa? Stevie? What are you doing here? And what is going on?”
    “Lisa?” said the security guard, now puzzled as well.
    “Yes,” said Stevie, still clinging to Lisa and ignoring Mrs. Atwood. “Cynthia Lisa. Everybody calls her Cynthia except her friends and her mother. We call her Lisa. Cynthia L. Atwood.”
    “But I thought you said your last name was unpronounceable.” The guard frowned.
    “It is, it is,” said Stevie. “We just call her Atwood because it’s easy to remember.”
    “Now, wait just a minute—” began the guard.
    “Look!” cried Carole. “There’s that blouse I’ve been dying to look at. Let’s go grab it before someone else buys it! Come on, Mrs. Baghdahnoviztzchki … er, Atwood, you come, too!”
    Stevie, Carole, and Lisa headed quickly over to the blouse. Mrs. Atwood shrugged at the security guard. “Thanks,” she said, scratching her head. “I’m not sure what for, but thanks just the same.”
    “Not a problem,” the guard said, looking at the three girls and shaking her head.
    By the time Mrs. Atwood reached the blouse display, the girls had decided it wasn’t the right color for Carole.
    “Anybody want to shop for anything else while we’re here?” asked Mrs. Atwood, still puzzled over the scene with the security guard.
    “Not me,” said Carole.
    “Me either,” said Stevie. “I’m really broke now.”
    “Well, then let’s just go home,” said Mrs. Atwood. “Stevie, I’ll give you a ride if you’d like. I have to say, girls, this is the strangest shopping trip I’ve ever