Family
It was seven minutes after midnight on the seventh day. Whoooooooosh! A flash of light streaked the sky. A shooting star touched a strange carving on the hillside and a magical horse shook itself free of the chalk and rose to its feet. It was seven minutes after midnight on the seventh day of the seventh month. The only person watching was Chantel. No matter. It was enough. The summer of magic could begin.
There was no number on the next bus. Jack stepped back. He expected it to pass by, headed for the depot. But it stopped in front of him.
The doors wheezed open.
The sun shone in Jack's face. He couldn't see the driver.
"Hop on, son," a voice said.
"This is the wrong bus," Jack said. "I need the Number 26."
"This will do. Hop on, Jawbreaker."
Jawbreaker! Jack raced up the stairs. "Grandpa!"
"Why am I the only one who ever makes the bed?" Harriet said.
Theodora looked up.
"Because you're the only one with thumbs," she said. "See?" She held out her paws. "Bears don't have thumbs. So it's hard for us to do jobs like that."
"Penguins don't have thumbs either," Vera said. She held out one orange flipper for Harriet to see.
"Nor do sheep," Lambie said.
"Cats don't have thumbs either," Tiger said. "But that's not why we don't make beds."
