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to fly out of LaGuardia Airport, as opposed to JFK, like we did when we went to Hollywood—the most fun experience of our lives, for sure. Suddenly, I think about the Cheetah Girls.
    “A whole week without Galleria, Chanel, and Dorinda,” I mumble to Angie, who is sitting next to me in the back of the van.
    “I’m gonna miss them,” Angie says, sad as she can be. “I feel bad for Dorinda and Chanel especially—’cuz they didn’t seem like they wanted to spend Thanksgiving at home. I wish we could have invited them to come with us.”
    Daddy is lost in his own thoughts, but he hears the tail end of our conversation. “When are you girls gonna perform again?” he asks.
    “We sure don’t know,” I groan. “It just seems like we can’t get a break—sitting around waiting for some record company to tell us what to do. It just seems like
forever
.”
    “Well, on a happier note, we got here in record time,” Dad says, smiling as we pull up to the Ready Rabbit Airlines entrance at the airport.
    I am so furious. He’s acting like he didn’t even hear what I said! I heave a big sigh. That’s just the way Daddy is, I tell myself.
    I look at my watch. It’s 9:30. It only took us twenty-five minutes to get here! Now we’re gonna have to wait around for two and a half hours! “That was quick,” I say, sure that Daddy won’t notice the sarcastic tone in my voice either.
    Before we get out of the Bronco, he turns to us and says, “Let me give you girls some extra money,” then hands us each a twenty-dollar bill.
    “Thank you, Daddy!” I exclaim, tears coming to my eyes. I suddenly feel terrible again, for thinking such bad things about a person when he doesn’t deserve it. I’ve gotta stop doing that, and Angie too!
    I realize now that we’ve been stupid and selfish, sneaking Porgy and Bess out of the house. Daddy is gonna be piping hot when he finds out, too.
    “You sure twenty dollars is enough money?” he asks, concerned.
    “We haven’t spent one penny of our prize money yet,” Angie says proudly. That reminds me that poor Chanel had to give her money to her mother to pay off her credit card debt. Now I feel bad for her
and
Daddy.
    With him being so nice, suddenly I lose my resolve for Operation: Save Porgy and Bess.
    “Daddy, we wanted to bring the guinea pigs with us to Houston. Is that okay?”
    “What? Now why do you want to do that?” he asks, getting that mean tone in his voice.
    “Because, um, we’d miss them.” It seems I’ve suddenly lost my resolve to tell Daddy the truth. I know if anyone disses Abala Shaballa in front of him, he loses it completely.
    “Well, they’re home, right where they belong. They’ll be fine,” Daddy says sternly, like he has dismissed me.
    Angie is as quiet as a church mouse. Dag on, she’s never any help when I need her!
    A Ready Rabbit porter comes over to help us with our luggage. “That’s okay,” Daddy says to him briskly. Daddy doesn’t like anybody helping him with anything.
    I feel my heart pounding. Now is as good a time as any to tell Daddy the truth. “Daddy—Porgy and Bess are in the back with our luggage.”
    When Daddy gets mad, he breathes more fire than Puff the Magic Dragon! Without saying a word, he takes our luggage out of the van, then grabs the two shopping bags of leftover food—almost spilling the collard greens on the ground.
    “I’ll get it!” Angie says, like a little scaredy-cat, running after the plastic container that is rolling away down the sidewalk.
    “I’m raising two daughters without their mother’s help—I can certainly take care of a pair of
guinea pigs
,” Daddy says, emphasizing the words like he was talking about a bunch of rodents he had to kill with S.W.A.T. flea spray!
    “I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say, tears coming to my eyes. I look over and see that Angie is about to cry, too.
    Daddy frowns, then sighs. “Ah, go ahead and take them with you,” he says, putting the cage on the luggage cart and