The boy calls Jace by a different name. Jace corrects him softly and studies him. "What are you doing out in the rain, buddy?" He asks, "It's not good for you. You could get sick."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
"My older brother, the one who always protected me, died earlier. His killer tried to kill me so I ran," I sobbed. Remembering it, I clutched the bunny closer to me.
Writing your name can lead to writing sentences. And then the next thing you'll be doing is writing paragraphs, and then books. And then you'll be in as much trouble as I am!
Jace offers me his hand and I take it without hesistation. I follow him before remembering something. "My name is Kei," I say.
Writing your name can lead to writing sentences. And then the next thing you'll be doing is writing paragraphs, and then books. And then you'll be in as much trouble as I am!
He flashes a smile and stands, leading the boy into the house. "Well, sit down, Kei. I'm just gonna get a blanket for you to dry off with, alright?" Kei takes a seat on the couch and Jace takes a blanket out of the closet, bringing it back to the little boy and gently wrapping it around him. He spots Rayah coming down with the twins and flashes a smile, motioning her over.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I set Riley and Logan in their cribs and I flash a smile back at Jace. I walk over and see a little boy who was all wet. "Aw..." I giggle, crouching in front of him. "Hey, I'm Rayah. What's your name?" I ask, smiling.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
Writing your name can lead to writing sentences. And then the next thing you'll be doing is writing paragraphs, and then books. And then you'll be in as much trouble as I am!
"I was talking with Aaron next door, then she went to bed and I flashed over here. And then I heard Jace go for the mail. That's when I came down here." I say.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of
worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to
eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. — JRR Tolkien