Claira Bobskinders was bored. After
all, there’s only so much one can do during the summer holiday, before
everything begins to feel mundane. Claira asked her mother why this is, but
Mother was busy reading her favorite volume of Shakespeare (which she suggested
Claira try, but she said, “No thanks,” and left it at that) and told her
daughter that it was because little girls are lazy during the summer and need
more things to work on. But Claira didn’t want to work. She didn’t want to do
nothing either though, and it is during moments when one does not want to do
nothing, and doesn’t know what one wants to do, that one is apt to do something
extraordinary.
Claira decided to go outside, for
unless a person has a very old house filled with mysterious nooks and crannies
and dusty attics on hand, outside is the best place to find adventure. Now, on
the left side of the Bobskinders’ house was a garden near the garage, but
gardens like this, filled with carrots and pansies, are no fun at all. So
Claira went to the right, where there was a small thicket that led down the
hill to where the fence was. On the other side of the fence lay the creek and
beyond lay the hills and beyond that was the city, where Dad went to work every
day in a big office building. But it was to the thicket that Claira went to
sit. She crisscrossed her legs and kicked off her shoes, for she was not very
fond of shoes, and thought that on such a nice day, it would be pleasant to
wiggle her toes in the cool grass.
