It was Christmas Eve and Andrew was angry––very angry. He hunched his shoulders and scowled the way angry people do in the TV cartoons. He decided to run away from home. He grabbed the hand of his little sister. “C’mon, Lindsay,” he said, and they headed for the woods.
The woods were dark and frightening, and Andrew was forbidden to go there alone. But he had Lindsay with him, so he wasn’t actually alone. Lindsay had cornsilk hair and saucer eyes and thought everything he did was wonderful. She didn’t mind that Andrew was angry, because she knew they were on another adventure. Andrew was nearly grown up––he was six years old––and was always taking her on adventures.