In the Land of the Lawn Weenies by David Lubar Page B

there,” his father said.
    â€œBe patient,” his mother said.
    Kent sighed.
    It started to rain, putting a fine mist on the windshield. His father switched on the wipers. Kent looked at the dashboard again. He looked at the fuel gauge. It showed slightly less than half a tank. He tried to remember the last time he had looked at it. They hadn’t stopped for gas in a long time. At least, he couldn’t remember the last time they’d filled the tank.
    â€œI need batteries for my game,” Kent said.
    There was silence from the front seat. He wondered if his mom was angry. Finally she said, “Maybe next time we stop. You’ll have to wait. Just take a nap now or something.”
    Kent took a nap. He woke. They were on the road. The clock flashed 12:00. The gas gauge was just below half a tank. The batteries in his game were dead. The seat next to him was covered with magazines he’d already read.
    He looked out the window. There was a car with a license plate from Kentucky. Maybe he could find all the states—except Hawaii. That would help pass the time.
    â€œThere’s Oklahoma,” Kent announced. He saw a car from Pennsylvania next. That’s two , he
thought. This wouldn’t take long at all. But at least the game would kill a little time.
    Sooner or later, Kent knew, they had to get there. No trip could last forever, could it?

THE LANGUAGES OF BEASTS
    Â 
    Â 
    M ornings started out fine. Diana liked the beginning of the day, with birdsongs waking her as the whistled notes floated through her open window. She’d always lie in bed for a few minutes, just listening to the music, holding onto the pleasure until her mother’s grating voice called her down for breakfast.
    Why couldn’t people sound like birds? Diana wondered. Or better yet, why couldn’t people be silent?
    Luckily her mother didn’t talk much, and the birdsongs could be heard in the kitchen, so breakfast wasn’t bad. The walk to school was nice. At least, the first part always gave her pleasure. Diana left the house and looked both ways, hoping to see one of the neighborhood cats. She smiled as she spotted Ragtag. He lived next door but always ran up for petting when Diana called him.

    â€œHere, Ragtag.”
    The cat, lying sprawled in the morning sun, rolled to his paws and padded over. He rubbed his head against Diana’s leg and purred loudly. Diana spent a minute with Ragtag, then resumed her walk to school. After another block, she paused to say hi to her next friend.
    â€œGood morning,” she said to the dog. She didn’t know his name, but he was almost always there, straining at the limit of a long rope in the front yard, wagging his tail and barking.
    And that was about the end of the good part of the morning. The next few blocks brought her into the crowded place, filled with people who jabbered and talked about stupid things. Diana wished there were fewer people. Wherever she looked, she saw unpleasant sights. There was a man eating a doughnut while he walked to work. Didn’t he realize how revolting he looked, cramming food in his mouth, bending halfway over in an attempt to avoid getting powdered sugar on his suit? Diana shook her head and snickered at the sight. And the two women ahead of her—Diana couldn’t believe how silly their conversation was. All they talked about was the television shows they’d watched the night before.
    By the time she reached her school, Diana was in a crowd of chattering kids. She tried to ignore them. They were all so silly. There was Annie, who jabbered on and on about shopping. And there was Billy the Blabbermouth, who talked about nothing but baseball. Diana couldn’t stand the kids in her class. They almost never said anything
to her, and when they did it was something mean and cruel. But she didn’t care—they were just stupid kids with nothing important to say.
    The school day was