Chapter 6“Jesse, my braids are too tight,” Christie whined as we weaved around a group of children dressed in cowboy and superhero costumes.
I stopped and told Dylan to stay close by. “But I want Mrs. Steadman’s caramel apple.”
I shot him a stern stare. “What did I say about running ahead of us?”
He dropped his head and pouted.
“Stop acting like a brat,” Christie hissed.
Dylan stomped his boot.
“If we go back home,” I warned him, pointing at him, “You’re going to bed early. No candy. No TV.”
“Dylan, knock it off!” Christie yelled. “Jesse, can you please untie my hair.”
I fingered the rubber band holding her pigtails together, pulling out a few strands of her hair.
Christie yelped as if she’d been kicked in the shin.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It looks like your mom wound it too many
