Chapter 37: Three Miles of Bad Road

It never occurred to Casey to hide the utter shock on her face. She thought of the little girl from that old ghost movie: "They're heeeeere!"

Dagless, her barrel-chested father with wild white whiskers and a mischievous (slightly angry) twinkle in his eye, looked like an R-rated Santa Claus.

And Hector, her older brother, was a man in his forties who somehow still acted like he was fifteen. He dressed like it too. His typical ensemble consisted of fat sneakers, cargo shorts, and a soccer jersey.

"Cielita!" Papa grabbed Casey in both arms and lifted her off her feet, hugging her tightly.

Casey croaked the first words that came to mind, "Holy crap."

Setting her back down, Papa's joy quickly turned to grave concern. "You look tired. You been getting your eight hours?"

"Yes, Papa," Casey groaned. And, like that, she tumbled right back into her sullen adolescence.

"Liar!" Hector stabbed a finger at her. "J'accuse!"

"C'mon, man, lay off," she sighed.