At breakfast, Ava lifted her spoon. A pink worry popped from beneath her bowl and spread across the table. “Oh!”
The worry wiggled beside Ava’s toast. It stretched over the jam and nudged her spoon onto the floor.
Ava carried her plate toward school. Her blue satchel bumped her side, while the pink worry puffed along behind her.
At school, Ava tried to sit beside the other children. The pink worry filled the chair, and the chair legs scraped. “Screeech!”
Ava opened her book. When she wondered about tomorrow and making friends, the pink worry grew taller and flopped across the pages.
At home, Ava opened her homework. Again and again, she pushed the worry aside, but it spread wider each time.
In her room, the pink worry swelled until it bumped the ceiling. Ava’s desk, books, and pajamas were squeezed into one tiny corner.
Ava planted both feet. She took one slow breath and said, “Stop!”
The pink worry froze. It made a tiny squeak and shrank just a little.
Ava cleared one spot at the table and picked up her pencil. “I can try,” she whispered, while the smaller worry watched from a chair.
