Story 1 of 3 · about 3 minutes to read aloud
Bertie and the Forgotten Mitten

Bertie was a green city bus, and his driver was Ms. Abara. All day they went round and round the same route: past the park, past the library, past the school and back to the station. Bertie knew every stop by heart.
In the afternoon, when the last passengers had got off, Ms. Abara walked down the bus to check the seats. Under the seat by the window, she found something small and red. A mitten, with a white snowflake on it. "Somebody will miss this," she said.
Ms. Abara thought hard. She remembered a little girl in a red hat who got on at the school stop with her dad, and sat by the window, and waved at the ducks in the park. The girl had been wearing one red mitten when she got off. Just one.
On the last trip of the evening, Bertie pulled up at the Maple Lane stop, and there was the girl's dad, waiting for a bus to the shops. Ms. Abara leaned out of the door. "Excuse me," she said. "I think this belongs to your daughter." The dad's face lit up. "She's been looking for that all afternoon!" he said. "Thank you."
Then Bertie drove the last loop of the day, past the dark park, past the closed library, and home to the bus station, where all the buses rested in a long row. Ms. Abara switched off his engine and patted his dashboard. "Good day's work, Bertie," she said. And somewhere on Maple Lane, a little girl went to sleep with both her red mittens on the radiator, side by side.



