The Mystery on the Bayou

CRACK! <strong>The</strong>ir heads smacked together,
and their arms tangled in a rope that cinched
the canvas bag Mr. Purple Shoes carried. <strong>The</strong>
lumpy canvas bag hit the floor with a soft thud.
It bounced slightly, and seemed to wiggle for
a second as though it were alive.
At the same time, a few things tumbled out
of Avery’s backpack.
“Clumsy kid!” Bushy Beard exclaimed, as
he and Purple Shoes scrambled to pick up the
items that had fallen out of the satchel.
“I…I’m so very sorry,” Avery stammered,
snatching her items and backing away.
Purple Shoes continued to gather his
things but looked up long enough to flash
Avery a toothy smile and say, “C’est la vie!”
Avery knew the phrase meant “that’s life,”
and she’d had enough. Hot tears stung her
eyes like angry bees. First, her friend didn’t
want her to come. And now, after only a
few minutes in New Orleans, she’d made a
complete fool of herself.
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