Before I knew it, she had rushed us outside and back in the wagon, which she had double-parked because of the crowd. She was furious, almost vibrating with fear and grief, and I could see she was about to cry. She wanted to go back inside but now the driver of the car we were blocking wanted to pull out. She was shooing us away. My mother, who had just earned her driver’s license, started furiously working the pedals. But in her haste she must have flooded the engine, for it wouldn’t turn over. The driver started honking and then another car began honking as well, and soon it seemed the entire street was shrieking at us.