Watch Marscha -

"Watch, Marscha," Leo grumbled, tugging at the metal. "I’m just going to kick it."

"I bet I can jump the narrow part," declared Toby, the bravest—and often most bruised—boy in the group. Watch Marscha

Marscha was a "watcher." While other kids ran headfirst into the lake or climbed the highest branches of the oak tree, Marscha stood back. She watched the way the wind rippled the water before diving; she studied the sturdiness of a branch before placing a foot. Her classmates called her "Wait-and-See Marscha." "Watch, Marscha," Leo grumbled, tugging at the metal

"Wait," Marscha said softly. She didn't move immediately. She watched the way the chain was bunched near the derailleur. She saw the specific link that had jumped the track. "If you kick it, you’ll bend the frame. Just give me a second." She watched the way the wind rippled the

"Good catch, Marscha," Toby whispered, his face a little pale.