Free Chance and the Butterfly by Maggie De Vries Page A

seemed to be out and about. Streams of pedestrians crossed at every corner, all headed, Chance figured, for the water. Then Doug saw a parking spot, and the drive was over.
    â€œWe’ll walk from here,” he said. “The lots at the beach are probably jammed.”
    â€œIt’s not summer,” Mark said. “What are all these people doing here?”
    â€œSame as us, I guess,” Angie said.
    Louise was perched high on Doug’s back, and the picnic and blanket were divided up among the rest of them. Chance hefted his bundle silently and off they trudged. It was hard to stay grumpy amid the throng though. Everyone was smiling and chattering away. Was it just the weather, Chance wondered?
    Finally, they crossed a last street and found themselves in an avenue of enormous trees, staring ahead at the water, rough, whitecapped. Both boys took off at a run.
    â€œWe’ll see you at the water,” Doug shouted, waving them on.
    At the edge of the sand, they dumped their bundles and scuffed off their shoes. The sand was cold and sharp, more gravel than anything else, but they didn’t care. Moments later they were standing on the hard, flat surface at the water’s edge. Gulping salty air, they looked at each other and grinned. Then they turned back to the water just in time to shout a late warning to one another. They stumbled backward, but waves were already swirling around their feet and licking at their calves.
    â€œIt’s a good thing I brought towels,” Angie said, laughing, when Mark and Chance joined them at the top of the beach.
    Shoes back on over sandy feet, Mark and Chance took off again, this time along the walkway beside the sand. Every kind of person imaginable shared the path with them—all ages, all sizes, all styles of dress, using every non-motorized form of transport known to humankind. They passed a concession stand, wishing in vain for a few dollars for fries or ice cream, stopped to watch beach volleyball for a while and then meandered on. They came to a basketball court and stopped, transfixed. This was the real thing. The players were good, really good. And they were tall, way taller than they looked on TV.
    â€œI’ll bet there’re some NBA players out there,” Mark said.
    Chance nodded. He was impressed, but he wanted to go on. Most people seemed to be walking in the same direction he and Mark had been. They were going somewhere. He could tell.
    â€œLet’s watch on the way back,” he suggested.
    â€œI want to hang out here. You go on ahead if you like. Pick me up on your way back.”
    Chance stood still, wanting to go, but knowing he shouldn’t.
    â€œOh, come on, kid. Mom and Dad don’t need to know. There are lots of kids around. Just blend in.”
    So Chance did. He walked on, part of the happy crowd. He looked around at all the families, all the mothers and fathers and children on family outings. Well, he thought to himself, he was on a family outing too, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?
    He came around a bend, and all such thoughts tumbled out of his head. Kites. That was what everyone was here to see. Kites. He had come upon a huge sloping green field, water on two sides, open to the wind. The field was filled with busy people. And the sky was filled with kites. Kites twirling, twisting and dancing in the wind. Kites in all shapes. Kites in all colors. He saw dragons, box-shaped kites, winged kites and butterfly kites. On his right, a man was flying a matched pair, doing a dance in perfect unison. They made a whizzing sound like race cars on the track.
    Chance walked slowly around the field, gazing upward. Sometimes he tried to trace a kite down to its owner on the ground. Not always easy. About halfway around, he stopped to watch a small kite that stood apart from the others. It was orange and red and green, with a brilliant yellow tail, but its colors blurred together because of the speed and intricacy of its