Susannah May Farmer looked around the big auditorium for her friends. There was such a large crowd there for the concert that it was hard to see anyone she knew. She spotted Kenya and waved
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Michael Arthur Patterson had a whole herd of kangaroos jumping around his insides.
Michael Arthur Patterson tipped his head to one side and ran his fingers over the oddly-shaped piece of wood Mr. Fontaine had just handed him.
Solomon Nassim El-Charif was hot, sweaty, panting, and very frustrated! He jerked Sultan’s reins as he led him into the barn. Sultan threw up his head and tried to back away, his eyes wide with fear.
Kenya’s eyes opened wide. “That’s what happened to us!” she exclaimed. Then she put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Ms. Kimoto. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Solomon Nassim El-Charif was whispering to himself and looking worried. If any of his friends could have heard him, they wouldn’t have understood a single word he said.
Michael Arthur Patterson carefully lifted one finger at a time off the holes in his recorder. Each time he lifted another finger, the note he played was higher. He was practicing his scales.
Solomon Nassim El-Charif bit his lip and studied the paper before him on the table. Writing was so hard for him! He wished he was poetic like Susannah. She wrote all kinds of stuff.
Solomon Nassim El-Charif looked around the Sabbath dinner table at his family. “Mother, you’re wearing blue. You can be my partner.”
