Zadie Winks at Noon — At high noon, when the sand smelled like warm toast, Zadie set herself a dare: make all four cousins laugh without saying one prickly word. Read the full story →
At high noon, when the sand smelled like warm toast, Zadie set herself a dare: make all four cousins laugh without saying one prickly word. She puffed up tall, held her breath, and practiced the tiniest wink. Plip went one eyelid. Plop went the other. A beetle skittered past like a shiny black seed, and Zadie nearly giggled first.
Her cousins waited among the flower tufts, cheeks round and serious. Zadie leaned left. The big sun leaned her shadow right. Zadie lifted one arm. Her shadow grew a giant wiggly arm across the sand, tickling three pebbles and a sleepy lizard’s tail.
Then the surprise arrived: the cousins were not watching Zadie at all. They were watching her shadow, which had sprouted a perfect pointy hat from a flower behind her head. “Again,” whispered the smallest cousin. Zadie winked once more, brave as a seed popping open, and the whole patch shook with cactus laughs. Next time you spot that sunny face overhead, see if Zadie’s shadow is still wearing its mischievous flower hat.