MacKenzie Isabelle Evans let go of the handle bars of her bike. She pedaled twice, wobbled, and grabbed them again. Mac shook her head. She knew it was possible to ride without holding onto the handlebars. She had seen lots of people doing it.
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MacKenzie Isabelle Evans squirmed on the back seat of the car. She stared out the window at the passing scenery, but she couldn’t get rid of the uncomfortable thought in her head.
Joseph carefully watched both sides of the windy road. He could hardly wait to see his first redwood tree. He wanted to see the tallest and the oldest trees in the world!
Trevor Paul Monroe listened to the weatherman’s calm voice on the radio. “The storm front pushing down from the arctic should reach our area tonight. Strong winds of up to 45 miles per hour are expected, accompanied by heavy rainfall with snow accumulating in the mountains . . .”
Hannah Maria Estevez raced into the kitchen. “I can’t find my ball!” Hannah exclaimed. “Do you know where it is?”
Mackenzie Isabelle Evans glanced out the window. “Oh, no!” Mac cried, “Molly’s running down the street! I better go catch her!”
Joseph Anderson Donetti and MacKenzie Isabelle Evans stared out the car windows. “J!” Mac shrieked. “On that license plate over there!” “I can’t find one!” Joseph complained. “Js are hard.” “There’s a J,” Mr. Evans, Mac’s dad, said, pointing.
As Mac watched, Mom rummaged in a drawer for a piece of paper and a pen. She scribbled something down. Mac listened as she repeated a phone number back to the person on the other end of the telephone line. “OK,” Mom said. “I’ll go over there and get things ready. I’ll call you back in a little while.” She hung up. “What’s the matter?” Mac asked quickly.
Trevor rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. He liked the idea of being a great man. A great man who rode to work every day in a long black limousine with dark, tinted windows.
“What? You want to walk over to the drug store and have ice cream cones now?” Mom asked, her eyebrows raised. “In this rain?” She glanced at the fat raindrops chasing each other down the kitchen windows.
