Bram Waits for the Honk — In the station driveway, Bram rolled up to the white line and waited for the noon honk. The sun warmed his red hood, and the garage smelled like rubber tires and clean soap. Read the full story →
In the station driveway, Bram rolled up to the white line and waited for the noon honk. The sun warmed his red hood, and the garage smelled like rubber tires and clean soap. He kept very still, because Captain Lolo said the honk came only when everyone was patient.
First came drip-drip from a hose. Then came clank-clank from a bucket. Bram’s light bar gave a tiny wiggle. “Was that it?” he whispered. A brown squirrel popped onto the roof, puffed up its cheeks, and made the grandest squeak-honk anyone had ever heard.
The firefighters laughed so hard their boots squeaked too. Then the real horn boomed, bright and friendly, over the trees. Bram had waited long enough to hear two honks, and next time you spot his shiny roof bar, you might guess where the squirrel sat.
