“Dad said it would be good for us to entertain ourselves for a change.” Peter shuffled his feet in the dust. “What should we do?”
“Beats me.” Joe looked around the yard. “There’s nothing to do out here.”
A squirrel with an acorn in his jaws scampered past, unobserved. Flame-colored roses spilled over from the flower bed along the front walk, again unseen. A cool breeze ruffled the branches of the willow tree. Neither boy felt it.
“How much longer do we have to stay out here?” Joe complained.