Red Swing, Blue Swing

"Wait your turn, Emma!" called a voice from the line, and Emma stopped running.

She had been racing to the swing. She loved the swing more than anything at the fair. It hung by the carousel, the one that never stopped turning, and it flew higher than the striped tents.

But a long line of children stood in front of her. Emma went to the back and held the rope fence.

"How long?" she asked the girl in front.

"Ages," said the girl.

Emma waited. She counted her shoes. She counted the tent stripes. The carousel went round and round, playing its tinkly tune, and the line did not move at all.

"Ten pushes each!" shouted the boy on the swing. Then he swung and swung and did not get off.

Emma tried asking. "Please, can I have a turn?"

"After me," said the boy. "I'm not done."

She tried standing very still and looking sad. Nobody noticed.

Then Emma noticed something. The carousel horses went up and down, and every horse got a turn at the top. The horses never fought. They simply went round, and each one came back.

"Hey!" Emma said. "Let's count the pushes out loud. Everybody counts. At ten, the swing is done!"

"Ten," said the boy. "Okay."

So the whole line counted. "One, two, three..." The boy swung higher with every number. "Eight, nine, TEN!"

He hopped off. Squeak! The swing wobbled and the girl climbed on. "One, two, three..."

The line crept forward, one count at a time.

At last it was Emma's turn. She sat down and held tight. The line began to count, and her feet kicked up toward the striped tents.

"One!" they called. "Two! Three!"

The carousel tune tinkled below her, and the wind blew warm in her hair, and the swing flew up and back, up and back.