She ran across the yard and checked. Front door, back door, cellar, garage. All locked.
Locked against their only daughter.
The Lindner kids, also headed for Crystal Lake, though with only one Flexible Flyer, passed by.
“Whatcha doin’, Nora?”
Nora stared across the Bailey yard, the snow-capped evergreens, the brown wrecks of last summer’s annuals. “Blowing soap bubbles.”
Annabelle laughed. ‘Where’d all those magazines come from?”
“Fell out of a Flying Saucer,” Nora answered. “They’re all printed in Martian.”
Tim Lindner said, “Aw—you’re crazy.”
The sled banged and squeaked down Walnut Street.
Six big airplanes went by. They were above the clouds. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky, earlier. Ted had said so. Ted was always looking aloft at the weather.