A moment before, she'd been proud of her work. Quinn looked down and saw orange lines streaking outside the bold black border. Quinn was at a table with three other kids. She remembered how they'd met on the first day of kindergarten. The thought of Kara moving a thousand miles away stabbed her inside. Quinn grinned until the corners of her mouth quivered. They made another and pulled the ends tight. She reached over and looped her bracelet through Kara's. Only now that Kara was moving away, it was like the threads were unraveling. Two colors tightly woven to form a single band. Quinn ran a finger along the intertwining purple and orange pattern. She'd made them back in November, the day after everything changed. The knot Quinn had been picking at came loose. Good thing they'd be through the Mojave before nightfall. She imagined hordes of snakes and scorpions crouched under rocks, waiting for darkness before attacking. Nothing but gravel and rock, spindly creosote, and cacti spreading out on all sides. Quinn sat beside Kara in the rear seat of the red Caravan. No one else in the minivan noticed - at least no one said a word - but with each mile that passed, the sound grew louder. A low, dull hum, like a swarm of bees a million miles away. Quinn had to concentrate hard to hear it. The Inn Between By Marina Cohen, Sarah Watts Roaring Brook Press Copyright © 2016 Marina Cohen All rights reserved.
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