Ambrose draws closer, dwarfing my small frame. “Get in the damn car.” I puff out my chest and lower my voice as deep as it can go, imitating him. “Get in the damn car. Oh, look at me, I’m Ambrose and I can be bossy because I’m as tall as the Chrysler Building.” I roll my eyes, scoffing. “You know, you can’t tell me what—” Ambrose lifts me over his shoulder like I weigh no more than a sack of flour and I shriek.
