“I’ll drive,” Summer said without discussion. It was not uncommon since Ellie was usually the one in tow. She’d been dragging her youngest sibling syndrome around like dead weight, unable to detach as though it were a disease or condition to take to the grave. But the 15-year-old her was present and potent. People just loved taking care of her, if not pitying her, out of their own selfless concern, assuming she was directionless and acquiescent. Summer led the way, and Ellie followed. Expecting they would slip into a sleek black BMW, newly washed with a heavy tint, Ellie was mistaken. Summer…