home. Then Cheryl would be here, and we would be celebrating both of your birthdays.” Mom dropped the dish she was washing as tears dripped into the dishwater. “We have to have a party,” Chrissie yelled, “I can’t believe that you don’t want to celebrate my birthday. I hate you!” She pushed herself away from the table and went back to her bedroom. Chrissie walked over to her closet and pulled out her duffle bag. She threw some clothes and books in the duffle bag and stopped at the desk to scribble a quick note to her mother. Chrissie grabbed her duffle bag and ran out the door. As she ran, she thought, Cheryl, where are you? How can Mom blame me for the accident? I did everything I could to get you out of the car, but you wouldn’t let me help you. When she reached the stream, she crossed and sank to the ground. Soon Chrissie regretted running out of the house so quickly. The sky was darkening, and the temperature started to drop. Snowflakes drifted down and melted as soon as they hit the ground. However, she couldn’t go back. She pulled a jacket out and wrapped it around her arms. A book fell out, so she picked it up and started reading. Her eyelids drooped. The gentle trickling of the stream and the rustling of the leaves put her to sleep. A few hours later Chrissie awoke to the feeling of snow on her face. The snow had changed from flurries into a storm while she slept. Snow covered the ground. Chrissie’s rubbed her hands together trying to warm them up. They were numb from the cold and her bones were aching from sitting on the cold ground. She looked around, and saw Cheryl standing in the trees.