“No wonder you always flunk social studies. “Aren’t there dragons in the jungle?” Charles Wallace finished his glass of milk. Jenkins believes in the law of the jungle.” She spoke through a mouthful. Jenkins would care what happened to Charles Wallace, or that he would be willing to interfere in what he called “the normal procedures of democracy.” “Mr. “Okay, did the big boys jump you in the schoolyard this time, or when you got off the bus?” “Meg, you aren’t listening to me.” “I happen to care that you’ve been in school for two months now and not a single week has gone by that you haven’t been roughed up. She looked at him, scowling with an anxiety she did not like to admit to herself, at the fresh rips in the knees of his blue jeans, the streaks of dirt grained deep in his shirt, a darkening bruise on the cheekbone under his left eye.

I think I’ll have liverwurst and cream cheese.” She took her sandwich materials and a bottle of milk and set them out on the kitchen table. I was looking for something new and different and exciting.” “Meg, did you hear me?” “Yes, I heard you. “I suppose I’ll have lettuce and tomato as usual. They’ve moved to the north pasture now.” Meg, not replying-it did not do to answer Charles Wallace too quickly when he said something odd-returned to the refrigerator. “What?” “There are dragons in the twins’ vegetable garden. “There are dragons in the twins’ vegetable garden.” Meg Murry took her head out of the refrigerator where she had been foraging for an after-school snack, and looked at her six-year-old brother.

A Wind in the Door by Madeleine L'Engle