Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

ometimes a walk helped cool Carmen’s blood. Other
Stimes it didn’t.
She marched all the way to the creek at the edge of
the woods. She knew there were cottonmouths lurking in
this dense place. She hoped one would bite her.
She pried a wide, heavy rock from the packed soil of the
creek bank. She heaved it into the water, gratified by the
big, sloppy splash that sent droplets of water onto her
pants. The rock settled there in the creek bed, slightly
obstructing the smooth way the water flowed. Her eyes
stayed fixed on the rushing creek that dimpled around her
rock. Within a few moments, the water seemed to adjust
itself. It tucked the wide rock a little deeper into its bed and
flowed smoothly again.
Dinner was definitely ready by now. Were they waiting
for her? Where they wondering where she’d gone?
Her father must have heard the door slam. Was he worried?
Maybe her father had gone out looking for her.