“He sees you!” Beth yells from across the street.
Georgia squeals, leaps from her hiding place behind the panel wagon in Mr. Mann’s driveway and takes off running. 595 more words
“When I die, please don’t let there be any gardenias at my funeral,” she said, staring blankly out the car window.
All the lights in the history of time reflected in the wet street as the caravan of shiny black Town Cars crawled through Manhattan at dusk. 412 more words