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Show Twisters . . . 92 She says it's like taking a tranquilizer." I thought about Mrs. Darlington saying scripture. It didn't seem to fit with her romance books somehow. Besides, I'd never once seen her reading the Bible. Of course, Stacey wouldn't lie. "Wish I knew some scripture," I said, which was only half-true. "You know 'The Lord is my shepherd,' don't you?" "Everybody knows that." "Okay, so . . . here, Dan . . . we have to hold hands. Anyway, this is the way we do it at home." I felt kind of funny about Stacey holding my hand. Mine was all sweaty and hot. But then it didn't matter after all because so was hers. "Now, like Mama says, you have to make a picture in your mind to go with every line we say or it won't work. Want to try it?" I nodded. "The Lord is my shepherd." She stopped there. "Are you getting a picture?" "Yeah." I wast I was seeing a shepherd. "Does he have one of those shepherd's crooks in his hand?" she asked. "Yeah." "So what's he wearing?" "Uh . . . sandals. And a long robe." "Does he have a cloth thing on his head?" "He does now." I described it for her. It was wheat-colored, with a red border design. A thing like a sweatband held it in place. "Hey, great, Danny!" Stacey squeezed my hand and smiled her weird smile. |