Trevor Paul Monroe listened to Joseph’s excited voice on the phone. “Do you think you can come?” Joseph asked. “We’ll have so much fun! G.M. will let us make a picnic supper and everything! Don’t you think it will be fun?”
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MacKenzie Isabelle Evans landed on G.M.’s back porch with a thud. She banged on the kitchen door with her fist. “Come in quickly!” G.M. called from the sink. “I can’t afford to have you knock a hole in my door!”
Trevor Paul Monroe raised his hand high. He wiggled it in the air. He sure hoped Pastor Chuck would call on him first. He didn’t know the answers to lots of questions, but he knew the answer to this one. At least one of the answers.
Joseph grabbed the cooler that was setting on the kitchen counter. He didn’t want to go without lunch! He dashed out the back door and slammed it.
Trevor was done with math. He was not even going to think about math until school started again in September.
MacKenzie Isabelle Evans stared out the car window. Then she bounced and squirmed and looked at the clock in the dashboard. “It’s only half an hour until the plane is supposed to land,” she said. “Are we going to be late?”
When Joseph returned to the kitchen, he saw that G.M. had put on her big blue-and-white striped apron. She looked like a real cook. “What’s this?” he asked, shaking a jar with tiny, beige, roundish balls in it.
Then he hurried back to the living room so he wouldn’t miss anything interesting. Dad and Dr. Adams sat on the sofa. Mom was serving icy lemonade. She gave Trevor a glass, too, and he settled himself on the floor near Dad’s feet.
