dripping.
"Here." Durinda handed it to Georgia. "You open it. I can't take care of the pigeon, hold the sack, and open it and remove whatever is in it all at the same time."
"She's right," Petal said. "I'm pretty sure she would need at least one extra hand to do all of that."
So, still grumping, Georgia took the sack.
"I don't know why I always have to do all the work around here," she grumbled.
We all glared at her. Georgia hardly ever did any work, unless it was mischief.
"The drawstring on this sack is dripping all over my socks," Georgia complained.
"Just open it!" Zinnia hurried her along. "I think it must be one of our gifts!"
"Why in the world would you think a stupid thing like ... Hello!" Georgia said, wonder filling her face as she removed a gold object from the sack. The object looked like a compact case, and on the front of it was engraved the name Georgia.
"What's this?" Georgia asked.
"It's your gift, obviously." Now it was Zinnia's turn to sulk. "I was kind of hoping that the order had been switched around, that somehow it would turn out to be my gift."
Jackie put her arm around Zinnia and gave her shoulders a squeeze. Whenever Annie or Durinda didn't take care of us right away, Jackie was good at filling the gap.
"Fine," Georgia said. "So it's my gift." She kept turning it around in her fingers, held it up to the light, squinted at it. "But what is it?"
"Haven't you ever seen a compact before?" Rebecca asked. "I'll bet anything there's a mirror inside there." She made a kissy face with her lips. "You're supposed to look in the mirror to check your lipstick and make sure you look bea-u-ti-ful."
"But I don't wear lipstick!" Georgia was clearly annoyed. "Do I look like the kind of girl who would have any need for a compact mirror?"
We studied Georgia closely, and we had to admit: she didn't. Really, had she even bothered to comb her hair today?
"I have to say, Georgia," Annie said, "you're probably the only person in the history of the world who has ever looked a gift horse in the mouth."
"It's a gift compact," Georgia said, "and stop talking in clichés. It's trite." She paused and considered. "I'm pretty sure it's hackneyed too." She sighed a heavy sigh. "Just my luck," she said. "I get my gift, and it's not even anything I would ever want. What's next? Will my power be something useless too?"
"I should think you'd be more grateful," Zinnia said with an unusual show of spirit. "At least you got your gift. While some of us are still waiting—"
"Hey! Wait a second!" Annie snapped her fingers. "No matter that you don't like your gift, Georgia—each power and gift we find brings us one step closer to discovering what happened to Mommy and Daddy!"
"But isn't it a bit odd," Jackie said, "Georgia finding her gift at the beginning of the month, instead of at the end of it, like what usually happens? Plus, she didn't exactly find it. You could say that it found her. " Jackie really was puzzled, a rare thing. "It just doesn't make any sense for the gift to arrive now, and like this."
"We never did read the note the pigeon brought," Marcia pointed out.
"Read it!" Petal cried.
"Read it!" Zinnia cried.
So Durinda, still carefully handling the wet pigeon, removed the tiny metal tube from its leg and took out the scroll of paper from the tube.
"Look at Durinda go now," Rebecca said. "It's like she suddenly has three hands."
Durinda ignored Rebecca, which was a habit among us. First, Durinda read whatever was written on the scroll to herself, her lips working while she did.
"Do you think you could read it aloud," Annie asked, "so we can all hear it?"
"It says," Durinda said, "'We're delivering her gift early, because we just can't bear to hear Georgia whine all month.'"
Then Durinda looked down at the pigeon in her hand.
"How," Durinda said, addressing the pigeon, "did you ever fly all the way here from wherever you came from with that sack holding the compact folded under your wing? It can't
"Here." Durinda handed it to Georgia. "You open it. I can't take care of the pigeon, hold the sack, and open it and remove whatever is in it all at the same time."
"She's right," Petal said. "I'm pretty sure she would need at least one extra hand to do all of that."
So, still grumping, Georgia took the sack.
"I don't know why I always have to do all the work around here," she grumbled.
We all glared at her. Georgia hardly ever did any work, unless it was mischief.
"The drawstring on this sack is dripping all over my socks," Georgia complained.
"Just open it!" Zinnia hurried her along. "I think it must be one of our gifts!"
"Why in the world would you think a stupid thing like ... Hello!" Georgia said, wonder filling her face as she removed a gold object from the sack. The object looked like a compact case, and on the front of it was engraved the name Georgia.
"What's this?" Georgia asked.
"It's your gift, obviously." Now it was Zinnia's turn to sulk. "I was kind of hoping that the order had been switched around, that somehow it would turn out to be my gift."
Jackie put her arm around Zinnia and gave her shoulders a squeeze. Whenever Annie or Durinda didn't take care of us right away, Jackie was good at filling the gap.
"Fine," Georgia said. "So it's my gift." She kept turning it around in her fingers, held it up to the light, squinted at it. "But what is it?"
"Haven't you ever seen a compact before?" Rebecca asked. "I'll bet anything there's a mirror inside there." She made a kissy face with her lips. "You're supposed to look in the mirror to check your lipstick and make sure you look bea-u-ti-ful."
"But I don't wear lipstick!" Georgia was clearly annoyed. "Do I look like the kind of girl who would have any need for a compact mirror?"
We studied Georgia closely, and we had to admit: she didn't. Really, had she even bothered to comb her hair today?
"I have to say, Georgia," Annie said, "you're probably the only person in the history of the world who has ever looked a gift horse in the mouth."
"It's a gift compact," Georgia said, "and stop talking in clichés. It's trite." She paused and considered. "I'm pretty sure it's hackneyed too." She sighed a heavy sigh. "Just my luck," she said. "I get my gift, and it's not even anything I would ever want. What's next? Will my power be something useless too?"
"I should think you'd be more grateful," Zinnia said with an unusual show of spirit. "At least you got your gift. While some of us are still waiting—"
"Hey! Wait a second!" Annie snapped her fingers. "No matter that you don't like your gift, Georgia—each power and gift we find brings us one step closer to discovering what happened to Mommy and Daddy!"
"But isn't it a bit odd," Jackie said, "Georgia finding her gift at the beginning of the month, instead of at the end of it, like what usually happens? Plus, she didn't exactly find it. You could say that it found her. " Jackie really was puzzled, a rare thing. "It just doesn't make any sense for the gift to arrive now, and like this."
"We never did read the note the pigeon brought," Marcia pointed out.
"Read it!" Petal cried.
"Read it!" Zinnia cried.
So Durinda, still carefully handling the wet pigeon, removed the tiny metal tube from its leg and took out the scroll of paper from the tube.
"Look at Durinda go now," Rebecca said. "It's like she suddenly has three hands."
Durinda ignored Rebecca, which was a habit among us. First, Durinda read whatever was written on the scroll to herself, her lips working while she did.
"Do you think you could read it aloud," Annie asked, "so we can all hear it?"
"It says," Durinda said, "'We're delivering her gift early, because we just can't bear to hear Georgia whine all month.'"
Then Durinda looked down at the pigeon in her hand.
"How," Durinda said, addressing the pigeon, "did you ever fly all the way here from wherever you came from with that sack holding the compact folded under your wing? It can't
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