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Madame Chamberlaine: The Feather of the Golden Eagle

Tzipi Wolner

“NOOOOOOO!” Shuly jumped away from the front lawn while I just stood staring at the falling glass and rolling beads. “Oh, boy.” “This is not funny, Shuly. What in the world will I do now?”

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

“I don’t know, but you know I’m petrified of Chief Red Horse. I’m not going with you if you choose to apologize,” she whispered. She raced up the stairs to our home. I stood outside and looked at the mess I had made of the chief’s door decoration. He was a Native American and a chief too. He was also a fierce and scary man. I certainly wasn’t going to apologize by myself. He would probably swallow me whole and spit out my bones. Nah, I’d be safer at home. Like under my covers. I ran in after Shuly and locked the door behind me. I took a deep breath and felt my heart beating crazy fast. I was still panting when I came into the kitchen. Madame was sitting at the table chatting with my mother. A fresh batch of vanilla buns was cooling on the counter. I sniffed my way over to the tray.


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