As Visions of Tooth Decay Danced in her Head

Penelope was sitting in the passenger's seat of her dad's red pickup. They had just pulled in the driveway. Penelope had been visiting a couple of good friends, Kel and Lola, for the weekend and had just arrived home. She was happily replaying in her mind the fun things they'd done that weekend and getting progressively more excited to return to campus, where she'd get to see the girls all the time and--suddenly, she realized that she'd made a horrible mistake. She'd forgotten all of her luggage at Kel's house, an hour-and-a-half away. She could picture where she'd left her things--her pink duffel bag sitting next to her pink pillow on a bench near the door, her brown flip-flops on a rug just beside that. But worst of all, Penelope realized in horror, she'd left her prescription-strength fluoride toothpaste in the bottom of her duffel bag, buried beneath dirty clothes and half-eaten packages of Pop Rocks. Visions of a cavity-ridden future filled her with dread. She could almost hear the dentist's drill screeching in her ears.

"Dad," Penelope said, panicked, "Turn around. We're going back."