"I think we're in trouble, Mom." I tapped the paper I was holding. "I'm
supposed to write down how many smoke alarms we have. We don't have
any smoke alarms. Did you know that?"
My mother looked guilty. "Actually, we have a boxful out in the garage
that I bought at a yard sale last summer. I haven't gotten around to batteries
yet. It's on my list."
"They can't be on my list unless they're working." I
looked down at my homework. "We did horribly, Mom. We could
die. We don't even have a fire extinguisher."
My mother said quickly, "Yes we do!" She reached behind the corner hutch
and pulled out a very dusty red metal cylinder. She blew on it. Dust flew
everywhere.
"Does it work?" I asked dubiously.
"I admit," my mother admitted. "It is rather old." My mother sort of
laughed. "It's a great assignment, Nancy - but it really doesn't apply to
us. We're absolutely safe. What could go wrong?"
"Lots," I told her seriously. "Want to see my list?"
My mother took the list I handed her and looked it over. She looked
it over again more carefully. "The window has a funny lock. I'll
show you," she mumbled. "As for the rest ... some of these things can be
fixed right now," she said in a surprised sort of way.