“Writing fiction always left me feeling muzzled and constrained,” Jacquelyn Frohlich says on the occasion of the release of her new film, “Wayward.” Wanting more than anything to be “a real novelist” — the type who gets reviewed in the New York Times — this graduate of Fiction Writing at Sarah Lawrence College wrote three unpublished books, got married, had children, got divorced, and decided life was neither complicated nor rewarding enough. She took up film, a medium that “offered the joy and relief of collaboration.”

Locating one’s metier after having dedicated a significant chunk of life to another is an indicator of tenacity, but to actually realize as much requires a degree of good fortune. A feature film, however modest in budget, is no easy venture. “I’d been working really hard,” Ms. Frohlich avers, “… and knocking on every door and nothing ever happened for me.” Still, her script about the kidnapping of a teenage girl did manage to pique some fancies, open some checkbooks, and, before you know it, Ms. Frohlich is another overnight sensation long in the making.

The opening scene of “Wayward” will strike a chord with parents the world over. Arlene (Jess Weixler) is attempting to convince her daughter Cleo (Chloe Guidry) to do something that she doesn’t want to do. Arlene — nearing 40 and feeling it — pleads, demands, and cajoles. Cleo’s recalcitrance proves awesome until mom absconds with the cellphone. When the 11-year-old sprints out of the house in frustration, Arlene takes foot down a suburban street and ends up tackling Cleo in full view of a neighbor walking the dog. Arlene attempts to save face with a chirpy, “Hi Sally!” Sally is unimpressed.

Cleo has good reason to be wary of Arlene’s entreaties. Her life has been distressingly peripatetic, what with mom aligning her fortunes to this-or-that man and invariably being disappointed and dumped by them. Will newfound beau Larry (Rob Morrow from “Northern Exposure”) prove any different? He’s rich and a bit crass, but he does want to marry Arlene, moody daughter and all. 

Cleo is very moody, what with her omnipresent headphones and flat affect. Arlene’s attempts to engage her as they drive off to join Larry for what is presumed to be wedded bliss become increasingly frantic. At one point, Arlene wields a length of red licorice for emphasis. There are more convincing big sticks to carry when speaking with an adolescent.

Yet things change. When Arlene stops at a convenience store to buy snacks and fill the tank, she’s taken aback. Is that music in the air? Arlene turns the corner and comes upon a cherubic young woman, Orbison (Jessica Sula), hunkered down on the asphalt strumming a guitar. They begin chatting to pleasant, if also somewhat contentious, effect.

Propped up next to Orbison is a cardboard sign reading, “Need a ride to San Fran/Can help with gas!!” Arlene doesn’t give her much of a second thought until Cleo continues with the attitude. Picking up a hitchhiker is ill-advised, but Cleo’s company is — well, it’s impossible. Orbison hops in the back seat. Arlene thinks she’s found a comrade, but so, too, does Cleo.

Ice is broken and a tentative level of comfort is established between our three principals. When Arlene entrusts Orbison with Cleo’s care in order to make a private FaceTime call with Larry, she learns the hard way that trust doesn’t come cheap. Their hotel room is empty upon her return. No trace of Cleo or Orbison remains.

What follows is a kidnapping caper in which desperate people make stupid decisions and good people prove to be as susceptible to duplicity as the rest of us. Although viewers will readily intuit that a tight bond will be formed between Cleo and Orbison, Ms. Frohlich’s script mitigates predictability by making the characters more contradictory, cunning, and conniving than we might assume at this-or-that juncture in the plot. The auteur keeps us on our toes.

As a result, a road movie thriller is transmogrified into a shaggy dog story with all the tangencies that implies, including side trips that underline the benefits of Bible-thumping and just how fickle celebrities, jewelers, and 11-year-old girls can be. All the while, “Wayward” is carried by a remarkable performance by Ms. Guidry, who is, at turns, dour, coquettish, wily, and terribly alone. Whatever hesitations you might have about lapses in the plot or concomitant slack spots in the film’s rhythm are more than compensated for by this tough nut of a star turn.