Grandmother's Book

By Brennan Barrett

The sudden unexplained death of her Grandmother, opens up an exciting and mysterious new world for Parker Wilson. Together with her younger brother and partner in crime, Joey, she begins to unravel her birthright and and a number supernatural events around her new country home. Parker isn't exactly what you would call a witch, but she's the next closest thing. Not to mention that fact that she's obligated to fill her Grandmother's role as town herbalist, healer and now, amateur detective.
For a girl that prides herself in being a very orderly loner, it would be fair to say that Parker hadn't foreseen a future in dealing with the unexpected or the mythical come to life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brennan Barrett
• Release date: Dec 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999578114

Brennan Barrett

Brennan Barrett is an off the wall fantasy writer from New Westminster BC in Canada. Being an avid fan of both comedy and the Fantasy genres his entire life has imbued Brennan with a straight forward writing style that makes for an entertaining read in anything his irreverent mind creates. Fans will agree, you never know what to expect next. For anyone that has taken the time to write a review, please feel free to contact the author via email [e-mail] There is always time for a thank you. Thank you to the fans that offer great ideas, you make the process that much more enjoyable.

Book preview

Grandmother’s Book

By

Brennan Barrett

Smashwords Edition

ISBN:978-1-9995781-1-4

Copyright Brennan Barrett 2019

Dedication:

This book is dedicated to my readers and to the people closest to me, some of whom just happen to be my readers. In addition, I would also like to dedicate this book to every brave soul out there who has the courage to spend some of their precious time on their fellow human beings. To those who spend that quiet evening they were looking forward to, on a person who needs comfort and understanding. To those who cook an extra portion and bring it to someone they know who needs it, I salute you. Thank you for your service.

Author’s note:

Sometimes the characters in my books resemble real actual people. I call this craft. It means I’m doing my job and I can assure you that every character in this work is completely fictional.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be sold or copied without purchase or permission by the author or publisher. If you would like to share this book with someone, please visit the publisher and purchase additional copies. If you are reading this book and have not received it as a gift or purchased it from a licensed reseller, please visit a reseller that offers my book and purchase a legal copy. Thank you for respecting my hard work as a writer.

Cover art designed and created by Brennan Barrett ©2019

Index:

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

About the Author.

Thanks

Other books by Brennan Barrett

Grandmother’s Book

Prologue

Justin and Christine were experienced hikers. They enjoyed the great outdoors and all it had to offer; the fresh air, the sights, the smells and the varied challenges of nature. They had been on dozens of extensive hiking trips in dozens of countries, each offering their own challenges and lasting memories. There was a running debate amongst their friends on whether it was Justin’s dogged determination that made their hikes a success, or Christine’s obsessive attention to detail. As much as their friends tended to tease them about having nothing to talk about other than their expeditions, they did actually enjoy the stories about the couple’s trips, especially the passionate imagery those stories evoked.

We can’t pitch the tent facing this direction, Christine insisted.

Why not? Justin asked. It’s a great view of that little clearing. Just think of how beautiful the sunrise is going to be.

Because, O love of my life, the wind is blowing this way and you like to have the fire in front of the tent. We’ll wake up tomorrow morning like a pair of smoked hams.

I hear and obey, O shining vision of beauty, Justin said with a boyish smile, before leaning forward to kiss Christine. She smiled up at him and gave his bottom a little squeeze.

Come on, I’ll help you turn it and peg it down. I want to get that fire going and get some food started before I get too sleepy, Christine advised.

I hear... Justin began.

Yes honey, ok baby, right away boss and sure, are perfectly good answers, Christine tried to scold Justin, who was swaying back and forth like a little kid and forcing her to fight back a giggle.

Yes, my queen, Justin agreed quickly.

You’re impossible, Christine giggled, but that works.

With many hours of practice at this very task behind them, the pair quickly set up camp and cooked their dinner. They bantered back and forth like a couple of teenagers even though Christine had just turned twenty-nine and Justin had his thirty-second birthday coming up in three months. Before the sun had set on the picturesque forest clearing, the remains of their dinner had been cleaned up and all the supplies from dinner had been repacked, leaving the two to retire to their cozy tent.

You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Justin said conversationally. Christine turned from spreading out her bedroll and found Justin on one knee. By the gentle glow of their camping light, she saw the small box he was holding open in offering, and her breath caught in her throat.

Are you just going to stare at it? Justin asked.

Still waiting for you to ask your question, Christine replied with an excited smile.

Oh come on, will you marry me? Seriously, you’re killing me, Justin complained.

Yes! Christine laughed and reached for the box. Justin pulled the box back and they tussled for it while giggling like children, both enchanted by the other’s happy faces. Finally, Justin took the ring from the box and placed it on Christine’s finger. A quiet and blissful moment passed, with the two kneeling silently, looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

It was the most romantic evening that either could ever remember, but later that night, Christine was disturbed by terrible dreams. After one particularly horrifying dream, she bolted upright to a sitting position and patted Justin on the shoulder. He didn’t rise or roll over, he only growled at her, the sound was unearthly and frightening.

Damnit Justin, I had a bad dream. I really don’t need that right now. I need a hug, Christine complained. Justin raised his body slightly. He was still facing downward but Christine began to hear strange popping and wrenching sounds coming from him. Justin, are you ok?

Christine - with fumbling fingers - turned on the camping light that hung overhead and when she turned back to Justin, she had only a split second to see a disfigured and ghastly face. Justin’s mouth opened impossibly wide and he sprang towards her.

From out of the forest, a blood curdling scream pierced the night. The tent began to rock and pitch with the thrashing going on inside. Portions of light green nylon were suddenly stained dark, then all was quiet, save for the sounds of an animal feeding, the wet rending of flesh being torn and consumed.

An old woman sits, facing the open door to her country cottage. It is a still night and the moon is full. She can taste a spreading foulness on the air. It taunts her with its evil secrets, yet offers no clue to it origin or nature. An hour goes by before a shadow blocks the moonlight streaming into the doorway, casting a shadow over all but the old woman’s face. Gnarled tree branches choke the doorway and begin extending toward the old woman. She clutches an ancient pair of sewing shears in her hand and watches intently. Soon a branch comes within reach and she extends a hand. As she makes contact with the tree, visions fill her mind.

The branches pull away and the old woman lets out a long unsteady sigh. She has no choice, she will have to drink the potion and spirit walk. Not a healthy prospect for one as old as her, even under the best circumstances, but there is too much at stake not to have the answers that she needs. It is a mortal risk, but she is confident that years of discipline will see her through this dangerous task. With a nod of determination, she takes a small teacup and tilts it back, swallowing the contents in two big gulps. Nothing to do now, but wait for the herbs and the magic to do their work.

Chapter 1

A thick, heavy cloud of quiet sadness settled over the suburban home after the news of Grandmother’s passing. Joey, the youngest, wasn’t exactly sure how to feel. He hadn’t known Grandma Obermeier for long, after all, he was only eight. But if you were eight, then eight was your whole life, right? Joey called his Grandmother Oma, his older sister Parker used both Grandma and Oma when talking to their Grandmother. It really depended on her mood. They had visited with Oma every year at Christmas, and Easter, and Oma never missed Halloween. She insisted that it was very important that she be near the children on Halloween to watch out for them. A large portion of almost every summer had been spent at Oma’s little house in the country. Now she was gone.

I suppose I’m sad, Joey said to Parker. I didn’t know Oma all that well. Mom is probably a lot more sad than we are. Oma was her mother after all. So she knew her longest.

Shut up and play your game, Parker complained. She was twelve, soon to be thirteen, and she was just old enough to understand the gravity of what was happening. She probably shouldn’t have snapped at her brother. He was only trying to come to terms with what had happened, but Parker understood that that not only had their summer plans were ruined, she had lost the most significant person in her life. Of course the whole family would have to go and pack up Oma’s house. Mom would cry a lot. That would make Dad short tempered and jumpy. Joey wouldn’t understand and he would get upset. When Joey got upset, he acted like a brat and got very demanding. That wouldn’t work this time and even though it was passed time Joey got a real reprimand, Parker would be stuck in the middle of everything and Oma had always been the one person that she could talk to. But now Oma was gone and that left Parker in a very new and uncomfortable position.

Parker didn’t think or feel like other girls. She cared more about books and knowledge than most girls, most people actually. It wasn’t uncommon to find her sitting with more than one book open at a time and cross referencing with her iPad. Parker was a girl; therefore, she should like frilly things, she didn’t care or even notice those things. Parker was a girl; therefore, she should be interested in all the same things that most girls were, from hair and clothes to gossip, she wasn’t.

There were times when Parker wondered if she had the slightest bit of maternal instinct inside her. One time when Joey skinned his knee quite badly, Parker suggested that her family leave him alone until he had cried himself out, then she could treat her brother’s knee in peace. That was how Parker thought and felt, in terms of practicality. For the most part, Parker had two feelings; the feeling of accomplishment or feeling stupid, and Parker did not like to ever feel stupid.

One thing that Parker did like, was being a healer like her Grandmother. There was so much knowledge to dig into, so much to learn, so many combinations of herbs and roots that the possibilities seemed endless. That was something Parker liked very much. Healing was one of the things that she genuinely felt belonged to her. Compared to healing, what were feelings? They got in the way of work and they got in the way of knowledge. Feelings got in the way of Parker.

I’m tired of this game, Joey complained. Can you change it for me? The little brat was already becoming demanding.

Joey, Parker snapped, you’re just as far from the TV as I am. Change it yourself.

But I like it when you do it, Joey reasoned. Parker looked at her little brother and scrunched her eyes threateningly. Actually, I can do it, Joey announced quickly.

Joey, this summer isn’t going to be fun, Parker warned.

I know, Joey agreed.

You know you can’t be a brat this time, right? Parker asked. Her brother looked at her innocently and when Parker didn’t show any signs of softening, Joey nodded resolutely.

Why did Grandma have to die? Joey asked. Was God mad at her?

I don’t think God had anything to do with it, Parker answered. I’m not even sure he’s real.

Seriously? Joey asked. That was his favorite new thing. He loved to ask everyone if they were serious. Is this the Santa scam all over again? Mom and Dad promised they wouldn’t lie to us like that again. Joey’s eyes were big and he had a scandalized expression contorting his face that almost made Parker laugh, but Parker didn’t laugh often. She was a serious child.

You know your friend at school? Parker asked.

The one who eats his boogers? Joey replied.

No, the one who has an imaginary friend, Parker corrected.

Oh, yeah. Wesley, Joey confirmed.

Well, I’m not sure, but I think God is kind of like Wesley’s imaginary friend. You see, adults aren’t supposed to have imaginary friends. If they do, people call it a mental illness. I think that most grown-ups are too embarrassed to admit that they got suckered into having an imaginary friend and now they make up excuses about it.

That makes sense, Joey reasoned, nodding in a sagely manner that only eight-year-olds can sincerely portray. So, just kind of play along to be polite?

I think that’s best, Parker agreed. Especially at the funeral.

I’m going to play my game then. Joey decided. Grandma doesn’t have Internet or good TV at her place. Who knows how long it’s going to be before I can play again, Joey announced. Parker smiled and nodded. She watched Joey play for a few minutes before picking up her book. She preferred reading to playing games or watching TV. Sometimes Parker read internet blogs or articles on her iPad, but in truth, she preferred books. The older and mustier a book was, all the better as far as Parker was concerned. Anyone could slap a few paragraphs onto a blog, but if they took the time to commit it to paper, somehow it just seemed to mean more.

The children sat in their sitting room, one reading, the other gaming. Both were content to spend as much time as they could, holding onto the normal life they were used to. Soon they would be forced to face the far too adult experience of a funeral, along with a trip to the country to box up their Grandmother’s life and pack it away for sale or storage.

Clark and Brenda Wilson were good parents but at this moment they were feeling that they could have been a better daughter and son in-law. The children were not allowed televisions in their bedrooms. The third bedroom upstairs had been converted into a sitting room or a children’s living room. It encouraged them to spend time in each other’s company and not shut themselves in their rooms with electronics as most children tended to do these days. Oh there were times when they couldn’t agree on a specific program and one or the other could be found in the main floor living room watching some program the other had refused. But for the most part, they managed to work out a schedule with little to no shouting or complaining.

Have we been too focused on ourselves and our children to notice Mom’s health was failing? Brenda asked.

Don’t start doubting yourself now, honey. If you go down that road you won’t stop. You offered for her to live with us twice a year for the last five years. We’ve taken a trip out to the country every three or four months to check on her and we spend most of our holidays there. Hell, I spent the entire last trip installing a new hot water heater. You spent the whole time cleaning. She was loved and cared for, Clark reasoned. Helga Obermeier was a formidable woman and it wasn’t neglect that got her in the end, it was likely all that damned bratwurst. Her heart gave out honey, but she was happy and healthy until the end and she lived her life the way she wanted right up to the very end. Who could ask for more?

You’re right, Brenda conceded. I just hate that she died alone.

I understand, honey. I really do. But all we can do now is give her a good send off. We’ll head out first thing tomorrow. I expect you’ll want to have the service there so that her friends can attend?

She would want that, Brenda said as she dabbed tears with a Kleenex.

It’s settled then, Clark said firmly. I’ll go tell the kids to pack. You take a look through the fridge and decide what we want to bring in the cooler. I’ll help with the groceries as soon as I’ve talked to Joey and Parker. Brenda sniffed one more time and nodded.

Be gentle, honey, she urged, they’ve never had to deal with death before.

I will, don’t worry, Clark said reassuringly. He was always so reassuring. Clark never complained when she decided that something needed fixing at her mother’s house, or the fence needed painting. He even worked all afternoon one summer to put up a new clothesline for her mother after delivering a brand-new washer and dryer the previous day. Mom always liked to hang the bedsheets. She insisted that she slept better on sheets that were hung to dry. Damnit, she’d missed the chance to say goodbye and all she could think about was laundry.

Chapter 2

Where are we going to fit everything from Oma’s house? Joey asked. The family SUV was full to bursting and Dad was still carrying groceries out of the house.

We won’t be bringing all the groceries back with us, bone head, Parker groaned. Half of this will get eaten before we even finish packing Oma’s sewing room. Besides, Mom and Dad will probably have most of Oma’s things shipped to storage where they can go through it all when they’re ready.

Why don’t they just do that when we’re at Grandma’s house? We’re going to be there for years and years anyway, Joey complained.

We’re not going to be there for years and years, Parker insisted.

Yes we are, Joey insisted right back. Look at all that food! That must be two years worth!

More like two weeks, Parker explained. I’ve seen how you eat. You’re so stupid sometimes.

Parker, be nice to your brother, her Mother warned.

Joey, what did I tell you last night? You can’t act like a baby or a brat this time, Parker hissed quietly. Little brothers were made specifically to get you into trouble and Parker was feeling a very personal loss at the death of her Grandmother. They had been closer than anyone realized.

Yeah, I know, Joey moped. I was just... Parker cut him off quickly and quietly, lest she be chastised again by her Mother.

You were just being a brat, Parker warned. I told you it was important to behave this time and you’re already being a brat. You’re not a baby anymore, Joey. You’re eight years old. Push your luck on this trip and you’ll be looking forward to school.

Why would I look forward to school? Joey asked, worried that his sister must be losing her marbles.

Because you won’t have anyone to talk to until you go back to school, Parker said with a very grown up and very frightening gleam in her eyes. Joey gulped and nodded energetically. That’s better, Parker said with approval.

Their mother - skillfully packing assorted belongings into the family car - had been watching the exchange out of the corner of her eye and listening with the supernatural hearing that all mothers seem to possess. She smiled at how much of her own mother she saw in Parker. A pang of regret touched her heart when she realized that her mother and her daughter shared a kindred bond that she had never experienced. Brenda had always seen her mother as an eccentric or a Hippie. Parker had always viewed Oma Obermeier as a living set of encyclopedias and Parker did love her books.

Children, one last check for anything left behind, then use the bathroom, Brenda called to the children.

Is this everything? Clark asked as he muscled a full family sized cooler into the last remaining space his wife had left in the back of the SUV. Strangely, the cooler fit into the hole Brenda had excavated amongst the board games, frisbees, sleeping bags, laundry and dried goods, with barely an inch to spare on either side. Clark eyed the skateboard with skepticism and shook his head. Would you like me to go back for the mustard? He asked.

No, just make sure everything is locked up when the kids are done, Brenda said with a smile.

Ten minutes later, after one quick trip back inside by Joey to use the bathroom and a minor argument over a skateboard, the family was finally underway.

***

Gavin, Mavis called from the main reception area, did you manage to get in touch with the Wilson’s about poor old Helga?

You’re a little long in the tooth to be callin’ folks old, Mavis, Sheriff Howell answered back.

Gavin Theodore Howell, respect your elders. I may be as old as dirt, but that woman - bless her soul - was as old as dust. Now answer the question, Mavis complained. Mavis Trembly worked for the Sheriff’s Department as clerk, receptionist and dispatcher. Rumor had it that she came with the building and though she may be employed by the Sheriff’s Department and Gavin Howell was the Sheriff, there was no doubt as to who was actually in charge.

I got in touch with Helga’s daughter Brenda just after you left last night, Sheriff Howell said as he rubbed the back of his neck. This Helga Obermeier business had his stomach in knots. The Medical Examiner had been quite clear that the cause of death was heart failure, but he hadn’t been the one to collect the body. Gavin had answered a worried call from Greta Koch and gone out to the Obermeier place to check on Helga. Everyone knew where it was. Most folks in the area had been to Helga for a folk remedy more than once. Helga was a wise and learned woman by most folk’s estimation and she would be sorely missed.

I suppose they’ll be comin’ out this way soon then? Mavis asked.

Yep, Gavin barked in reply. And I’ll damn well be keepin’ an eye on ‘em to make sure none of Helga’s kin suddenly develop heart problems, the Sheriff muttered under his breath. Helga’s eyes haunted his thoughts. When he had jimmied her door two days ago to gain entrance to the home, he had found the old woman in her favorite chair. She had a tight grip on a dangerous looking pair of sewing sheers and her eyes were locked wide open in death.

Sheriff Howell had been called to the scene of more than one heart attack in his years of service and not once had he seen an expression like that. He’d kept the scene closed until he could take pictures and search for evidence. Other than a few moody old twigs someone had tracked in, he’d found nothing to suggest foul play. Still, he had waited for the Medical Examiner’s report before notifying next of kin, just to be safe.

It had honestly come as a surprise to Gavin that Helga’s death was due to natural causes. Of course, that’s exactly what you would want to hear, his gut just wasn’t willing to accept the facts. A woman doesn’t hold scissors like that unless she intends to do someone harm. That and the look on Helga’s face were enough to keep him up all night, two nights in a row.

The Sheriff was startled out of his thoughts to find Mavis leaning up against the frame of his office door with her arms crossed. She generally took that pose when she was annoyed with him for withholding gossip or if she was concerned for his wellbeing.

What is it? Mavis demanded. Gavin Howell, there’s somethin’ eatin’ at you, don’t bother trying to hush me. Fess up, Mavis concluded with a scholarly glare.

Did Helga ever seem in poor health to you? The Sheriff asked.

Not a bit, Mavis insisted. She could work circles around women half her age.

What need would a woman have for holdin’ tight to a big old pair of sewing sheers with no sewing or quilting to be found? The Sheriff continued.

Coupons, Mavis offered.

No papers or magazines in the room with her, Sheriff Howell insisted. Not a thing nearby to cut.

My mother used to cart her sewing shears around when she was sore at my father. Put the fear of God into that man and the rest of us to see her with those things, Mavis said with an nostalgic air.

Mine too, the Sheriff agreed. When my brother and I got older and thought we were too big in the britches to mind her, she’d pull out those big old blades and snip snip in the air while she glared at us. Smartened us up right quick it did.

Do you think she was expectin’ someone she intended on havin’ words with? Mavis asked.

Could be, Gavin responded. Didn’t find a single footprint that wasn’t Helga’s. A few old twigs though, like she’d been outside and hadn’t swept up yet. Gavin rubbed the back of his neck again then threw his hands in the air. Maybe I’m just getting old and suspicious.

Nonsense, Mavis snapped. You’ve never been suspicious enough. Likely enough you’re just finally comin’ around to it as proper for a law man. The Sheriff chuckled at her words and waved his hand in the air between them. Put your mind at ease and check in with the Wilson’s regular. And don’t try to tell me that you weren’t thinkin’ of doin’ just that.

Yes Ma’am, The Sheriff responded with a grin. The grin faded quickly when he remembered that he still had to call in a favor with Fern George. Hopefully she could talk a few of the more experienced men from the tribe into helping search for the two missing hikers he kept getting calls about. Every time Gavin had to deal with a similar situation, it ended up being two young people that got tired of roughing it and were shacked up in a motel somewhere and had lost track of time.

Chapter 3

Mom, Joey keeps farting, Parker complained.

I’m sure he’s not doing it just to bother you, her mother soothed.

Yes, he is, Parker groaned.

It doesn’t work that way, honey, her father explained.

It does with Joey, he has a supernatural ability to control gut fermentation, Parker insisted.

Gut fermentation? Brenda asked.

It’s a thing, Clark managed to say just before he broke into laughter.

Joey, honey, try to hold it in for just a few more minutes, we’re almost at Grandma’s house, Brenda pleaded.

The left-hand turn that would take them off the highway and lead the family to Helga Obermeier’s house was just now visible, but it would still take another fifteen minutes to get there. Hopefully Joey could contain himself that long, Brenda silently hoped. When she had dreamed of being a mother thirteen years ago, this was not the dreamy picture that had entered her thoughts.

Seriously, Joey, Clark said with a note of pain and suffering to his voice, you’re making my eyes water, son. Do your best to put a cork in it for ten or fifteen minutes.

Joey rose to the occasion with a resonating reply that didn’t come from his mouth.

Definitely not the stuff dreams were made of, Brenda thought with a sigh.

Eight minutes into the final leg of the journey, there was a tense moment when the family was forced to roll down all the windows after a frantic warning from Joey. Even with the windows rolled down, there were a few dragging moments when the cloying smell issuing from the youngest family member caused a significant amount of coughing and gagging. Clark was tempted to ask his son if he had been secretly feasting on roadkill, but restrained himself on the off chance his words might cause an eating disorder. Honestly, parenthood was such a minefield.

It’s the sugar, Parker insisted after they had finally deemed it safe to roll up the windows and block out enough road noise to converse.

You’re making that up! Joey accused, convinced that his sister was trying to punish him for something that was beyond his control.

Really her father asked.

Yes, Parker groused as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was gritting her teeth and staring at an empty family sized bag of gummy bears on the floor. Joey ate all the gummy bears and the high fructose corn syrup used to sweeten them also causes intestinal bacteria to flourish. They emit gas, Joey farts like a dying donkey and they emit more gas, and so on.

Clark, is that true? Brenda asked.

I’d have to look it up but I seem to recall hearing something about that, I think the bacteria is called Candida, Clark replied. She may actually have it right. Joey would have had to have eaten a heck of a lot of those gummy bears though.

He did, Parker complained. He ate the whole bag and no; he wouldn’t have to eat a lot. Any supply of sweet foods, sugar or high fructose corn syrup would cause a bloom in both the Candida and harmful bacteria. Candida is a yeast, by the way, not bacteria.

Is it dangerous? Brenda asked with concern. Clark wore a look like a deer caught in the headlights of an on-rushing truck as he glanced at Parker in the rearview mirror.

He needs probiotics with every meal and he needs to stay away from sugar, Parker growled.

Thanks a lot! Joey snapped at his sister.

You’ll thank me a few years from now when you don’t have to put up with people at school calling you pizza face! Parker snapped back. She was annoyed with Joey and she was mad at herself for letting him get under her skin. She had tried to council herself and Joey to take it easy on Mom and Dad. They were under enough stress with Oma’s passing and didn’t need any more of it. The American Health Digest had recently run a piece urging doctors to take stress more seriously. The point of the article had been that even though doctors were well aware of the effects of stress, they weren’t doing enough to educate their patients about the risks and they weren’t managing stress in their professional lives to nearly the degree that they should be. There had been a chart showing the rise in mortality amongst practicing professionals over the last ten years. Parker had a tendency to read material that would be considered quite advanced for a girl her age.

Joey, that was a family sized bag! Brenda complained.

Parker had some too! Joey howled.

I had five, Parker growled.

We’re here, Clark said with relief.

Dibs on the bathroom! Joey yelled as he bolted from the SUV. Joey ran for the front door to Grandma’s house and slammed into it when it didn’t