Avery held a melting vanilla ice cream cone as Mommy dragged her across the sidewalk. Daddy had his stiff arm around Mommy. They seemed mad, which made Avery nervous. She wanted her ice cream.
Big men in black suits shielded them from bright pops of light and booming voices. The voices demanded answers about someplace called Pandora’s Hollow and someone named Parker.
Mommy tugged her hand, and walked faster. Her grip hurt.
“Not in front of Avery,” Daddy snapped.
Avery’s little legs couldn’t keep up. She tripped. The cone flew out of her hand, splattering on the sidewalk.