Cleaning Up

Cleaning Up

Jane sat beside the window, her favorite spot. The window seat overlooked the backyard. From here, she could see all the comings and goings. Right now she could see Frankie. He was busy digging, in the garden.

‘Oh well, not my problem.’ Her thought vanished as she read further in a mystery novel.

Frankie burst into her room. “I need some help!” He was covered in dirt.

“You’re tracking in dirt. Get out!”

“C’mon, give me a hand. Quit spying on me and help.” He ran to her, grabbed her hand.

“Thought you were in the garden.”

“I was, but now I’m here. I need help. Come on!” Frankie pulled Jane off the window seat. He left dirty footprints on the stairs and floors as they went to the garden.

“Okay, I’m here. What’s the big deal?”

Mounds of dirt around the tomato plants caught her eye.

“I tried to bury some stuff, but it’s too heavy for me to lift. You have to help.”

A large garbage bag sat just beyond the tomato plants.

“What in the world’s in there?” I questioned Frankie, half afraid of the answer. He’s always up to no good.

“Just some stuff from my room. Mom said to clean it up so I swept it all into this bag.”

This beats all. “You’re kidding. Everything from your room? What exactly does that mean?”

He thought for second. “My shoes, my underwear, my socks, my pants, my shirts, my books, my snack plates, my Nintendo, my soda cans, my remote, my breakfast bowls, my…”

“Oh, you’re in trouble now. Don’t you think mom’ll notice?”

Frankie again thought for a second. “Nope. She’ll probably be pleasantly surprised.”

Frankie got the surprise, he had to dig it all up again.

W/C 293