If calling doesn't work, it's time to go out with a feather duster to find someone.
Hannah was hiding under the bridge, watching people walking over it, feeling down and muttering to herself in a small voice, "Why hasn't Hannah come to find me yet? Has she forgotten?"
Guinevere was just pulling her son back home, scolding him as they walked, "Who told you to play in the mud? Look at your clothes and that face, aren't you dirty?"
Eight-year-old Joe, who was about to start third grade this school year, explained for himself, "It was Daniel's idea, everyone went, and if I didn't go, I'd lose face!"
"Fine, you care about face, huh?" The feather duster in Guinevere's hand landed on Joe's butt, "You care about face? You'll wash your clothes yourself when we get home!"
"I'll wash them myself, fine!" Joe puffed out his chest, and seeing his mom about to bring down the feather duster again, he took off running.
