Susannah May Farmer’s room was a little messy. Actually, it was a lot messy. OK, the truth was, the goat stall looked better!
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Michael Arthur Patterson ran around with his hands out, laughing. Running into a body, he grabbed hold, calling out, “I got Susannah! Susannah’s it!”
Kenya Jayne Washington put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. From this position, she looked around the table at her family. Dad was at one end of the table, Mom was at the other, and across from Kenya sat Morgan and Nairobi.
Michael Arthur Patterson leaned against the window, listening to the hiss and patter of raindrops. Usually he liked the sound of the rain, but it had been raining all week, and he was sick of it. Besides, he was feeling sad today.
Solomon Nassim El-Charif grunted as he pushed the heavy wheelbarrow down the garden path.
“Mac and Joseph wrote to us!” Susannah breathlessly handed her brother his letter and took the rest inside to her mother.
Solomon bobbed his sock-covered hand up and down and said in a high, silly voice, “Hey, everybody, my name is Mr. Sheep, and I am going to visit a sheep farm! Baa, baa!”
“Well, let’s spend the rest of our class time making cards for Mr. Fontaine, and for others in the nursing home. Then you can ask your parents if you may go this afternoon. Let’s say at four o’clock,” Ms. Kimoto suggested.