Anya Olsen | In Car

She’d always been a thinker. That was her role in the family: Anya the Responsible, Anya the Planner. Her little sister, Chloe, was the wildfire—spontaneous, charming, always late. But Anya was the rock. And right now, the rock was stranded.

Because sometimes, Anya Olsen learned, you don’t find the way out by knowing where you are. You find it by getting out of the car and starting to walk. anya olsen in car

As she stepped out of the car, the panic spider finally stopped crawling. It didn't disappear, but it curled up and went to sleep. She had a plan. She’d always been a thinker

“Okay,” she whispered to the empty car. “Think.” But Anya was the rock

She was ten again. Same backseat, different day. A blizzard had shut down the interstate, and they’d been parked in a gas station lot for three hours. Her little brother was crying. Chloe was kicking the back of the driver’s seat. And her dad, with that unshakeable calm, had turned around and said, “Anya. You’re in charge of the radio. Find us a song.”