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Before, the only ones who would talk with him were Zithrusa and Headman, and he couldn't even learn any of their names, including Headman, which is why he called him that. Zithrusa wouldn't tell him any of the families names either, it was up to each individual to form their own relationships. Now that he was everybody's darling, he was having the family introduce themselves faster than he could remember their names. Still, it was nice to be accepted, and everyone was being much friendlier now.John made a kite from thin cotton which he had rubbed lamb fat into. It caught the wind pretty well, but there wasn't much twine available for string. The children loved the kite, and John set them to making string, and soon enough with everyone rolling plant stalks in their hands till they were raw, and twining the fibers till their fingers were sore, he had enough string to fly the kite fifty feet in the air. That was plenty on the windy steppes they were traversing now. He taught them how to. "The four of us look at each other with sly grins on our faces, beforegrabbing our stuff from our dressing room and heading toward thesecluded back entrance- outside which our tour bus is parked. The second we open the door, however, we realise that our hopes for a'stealthy exit' are doomed. There, between us and the bus, are a throngof hundreds of fans, each one holding their phone in their hands inhopes of getting a snap of the four of us."...Sorry," Jemma- our tour manager- mumbles with a tired grin as shestands in front of the crowd. "If it helps, there are bigger crowds atevery other exit." And no gates," Becca mumbles, before letting out a soft laugh. "It'sokay. Guess it's the last night of the tour, gotta enjoy it while itlasts!" Hell yeah!" I cheer as I follow Becca and the other girls into thecrowd, where we spend what seems like an eternity signing autographs andposing for selfies with our fans before finally being allowed onto ourbus just after midnight. Before we've even.
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