of the truck and this would be a way to distract Razi while Mama talked to the Peterses and the other gardeners about woodchucks and skunks.
As they passed the truck on the way to the petunia patch, Keisha said to Mama, “It could be a skunk that lives down there. Maybe he moved in after someone else moved out.”
“But why would he spray in his own den?” Mama wondered.
“That’s what I was thinking … maybe someone or something found him in the shed and that’s where the smell is coming from … not under the shed.”
“There’s something about that smell.…” Mama leaned in and got Keisha’s jump rope. She also pulled out the live trap.
“Well, go and jump. I want to set this up and find Mr. Peters. And Mrs. Zadinkis. It looks like the pattypan squash may be ripe.”
“I don’t want to jump, Key. I want to play hip-hopscotch,” Razi said. “We could do it right here on the path.” Keisha looked at the wide path. It would be easyto scratch out a hopscotch board with a stick, and she always carried her lucky marker in her pocket. It was a stone that fit just right in the palm of her hand. Mrs. Vanderest had let her paint it when the other kids were painting the big rocks.
“Okay, but
I
better draw it.” Keisha dropped the rope and found a short, stubby stick. You had to make bigger squares for hip-hopscotch because the whole point was to dance inside the lines. You tossed your marker into a square, hopped to the square it landed on, called out a dance move and then danced it. Unlike counting for jump rope, Razi was very good at hip-hopscotch.
“Me first,” Razi called as Keisha stood back to make sure she’d drawn it right.
“Okay, okay. Where’s your marker?”
Razi held out both hands. “Please? I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Keisha put her blue rock with the purple dots in Razi’s hand. “All right. If you promise.”
Razi tossed the marker into the third square. He skipped on one foot to the square with Keisha’s marker and called out, “MJ Step,” then proceeded to dance the Michael Jackson step, where you put your hands in your pockets and slid out first one leg and then the other.
“Good job, Razi,” Keisha said. As she watched herbrother skip to the next square, Keisha’s mind skipped to the thought of a little skunk, curled up in its den. Skunks liked to burrow, and anything on the ground—logs, porches, sheds—was a good place for them to live. But it wasn’t like a skunk to spray in its own den. What had happened to make it feel afraid?
“Drag turn with the disco arms!” Razi called out, and he waved his arms so hard he almost lost his balance.
Keisha felt a drop of sweat trickle down her temple. It was hot standing in the sun. She listened to Razi’s skip-skip-skid on the ground.
“Heel-toe with a puppet walk.”
That’s it! Keisha thought. It’s hot! Skunks are covered in fur. Why would it be curled up in its den? Skunks didn’t always use dens in the summertime.
“Oh no! Key, I threw it too far.”
Ooh. Keisha hated it when Razi interrupted her problem-solving process. “Well, go find it, Razi. You know it’s my favorite. You promised.”
Keisha looked down at her shoes again, trying to remember. It just didn’t seem likely that a skunk would be curling up in a den when it was so hot out. This was the hottest time of the year. All of a sudden, Keisha saw Mama’s shoes.
“The trap is set.” Mama pulled Keisha to her andwiped her daughter’s face with the hem of her dress. “I put some grubs in a little bowl. Just what skunks like. But even if we don’t catch a skunk, we should figure out what has been visiting. Those flowers were eaten, not picked, and woodchucks love to eat flowers.” Mama picked up Keisha’s rope and began rolling it up.
“Now, where is your brother? I don’t want him anywhere near that trap because it’s hard to set—”
Mama was interrupted by a very Razi-like scream. Keisha whirled around just in time to
As they passed the truck on the way to the petunia patch, Keisha said to Mama, “It could be a skunk that lives down there. Maybe he moved in after someone else moved out.”
“But why would he spray in his own den?” Mama wondered.
“That’s what I was thinking … maybe someone or something found him in the shed and that’s where the smell is coming from … not under the shed.”
“There’s something about that smell.…” Mama leaned in and got Keisha’s jump rope. She also pulled out the live trap.
“Well, go and jump. I want to set this up and find Mr. Peters. And Mrs. Zadinkis. It looks like the pattypan squash may be ripe.”
“I don’t want to jump, Key. I want to play hip-hopscotch,” Razi said. “We could do it right here on the path.” Keisha looked at the wide path. It would be easyto scratch out a hopscotch board with a stick, and she always carried her lucky marker in her pocket. It was a stone that fit just right in the palm of her hand. Mrs. Vanderest had let her paint it when the other kids were painting the big rocks.
“Okay, but
I
better draw it.” Keisha dropped the rope and found a short, stubby stick. You had to make bigger squares for hip-hopscotch because the whole point was to dance inside the lines. You tossed your marker into a square, hopped to the square it landed on, called out a dance move and then danced it. Unlike counting for jump rope, Razi was very good at hip-hopscotch.
“Me first,” Razi called as Keisha stood back to make sure she’d drawn it right.
“Okay, okay. Where’s your marker?”
Razi held out both hands. “Please? I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Keisha put her blue rock with the purple dots in Razi’s hand. “All right. If you promise.”
Razi tossed the marker into the third square. He skipped on one foot to the square with Keisha’s marker and called out, “MJ Step,” then proceeded to dance the Michael Jackson step, where you put your hands in your pockets and slid out first one leg and then the other.
“Good job, Razi,” Keisha said. As she watched herbrother skip to the next square, Keisha’s mind skipped to the thought of a little skunk, curled up in its den. Skunks liked to burrow, and anything on the ground—logs, porches, sheds—was a good place for them to live. But it wasn’t like a skunk to spray in its own den. What had happened to make it feel afraid?
“Drag turn with the disco arms!” Razi called out, and he waved his arms so hard he almost lost his balance.
Keisha felt a drop of sweat trickle down her temple. It was hot standing in the sun. She listened to Razi’s skip-skip-skid on the ground.
“Heel-toe with a puppet walk.”
That’s it! Keisha thought. It’s hot! Skunks are covered in fur. Why would it be curled up in its den? Skunks didn’t always use dens in the summertime.
“Oh no! Key, I threw it too far.”
Ooh. Keisha hated it when Razi interrupted her problem-solving process. “Well, go find it, Razi. You know it’s my favorite. You promised.”
Keisha looked down at her shoes again, trying to remember. It just didn’t seem likely that a skunk would be curling up in a den when it was so hot out. This was the hottest time of the year. All of a sudden, Keisha saw Mama’s shoes.
“The trap is set.” Mama pulled Keisha to her andwiped her daughter’s face with the hem of her dress. “I put some grubs in a little bowl. Just what skunks like. But even if we don’t catch a skunk, we should figure out what has been visiting. Those flowers were eaten, not picked, and woodchucks love to eat flowers.” Mama picked up Keisha’s rope and began rolling it up.
“Now, where is your brother? I don’t want him anywhere near that trap because it’s hard to set—”
Mama was interrupted by a very Razi-like scream. Keisha whirled around just in time to
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