Welcome to Silver Street Farm

Gemma says that it started with eating jelly beans on the merry-go-round in the park. Karl says no, it started with Auntie Nat’s poodles. But Meera knows that the
real
beginning of Silver Street Farm was their very first day of kindergarten in Mrs. Monty’s class.

On that first day of school, the only children who weren’t screaming, crying, or having a nosebleed were a tall girl with red braids, a quiet, skinny boy with dark hair, and Meera.

Mrs. Monty led them to the play area in the corner of the classroom.

“Could you three play nicely with the toy town,” she said, “while I sort everything else out? There are some farm animals, too, in that red box.”

Meera was lifting the lid off the red box almost before Mrs. Monty had finished speaking; but she wasn’t alone. The two other children were right beside her. Just like her, they weren’t in the least bit interested in the fancy toy town laid out all around them. It was the farm animals they wanted to play with.

“I’m Meera,” said Meera, smiling shyly.

“I’m Gemma,” said the tall girl with red braids.

“I’m Karl,” said the skinny boy very quietly. “Do you want to play farm?”

For the rest of the day, while Mrs. Monty wrestled with classroom chaos, the three new best friends built their first farm together. They got out all the animals, even the two cows with legs missing, the headless sheep, and the chickens that had been painted pink. They made stables, stalls, and sties from old cereal boxes and new fences from lollipop sticks and yellow yarn. Very soon, fields and farm buildings, flocks of sheep, and herds of cows and pigs had sprung up among the buildings and roads of the toy town.

The three children worked well together. Gemma liked the sheep and the chickens best; Karl didn’t say much, but you could tell he liked the cows and the horses. Meera was always having ideas about what to do next, but Gemma and Karl didn’t mind because she wasn’t
really
bossy and she had found the missing piglets at the bottom of the LEGO box.

When Mrs. Monty asked them to put the farm away because it was time to go home, the children were horrified.

“But I have to milk the cows in the morning,” said Karl.

“And the sheep can’t graze if they’re in a
box,
” said Gemma.

“But tomorrow the other children will want to play with the toy town,” said Mrs. Monty gently.

“They can play with the town
and
the farm together!” said Gemma.

“You see,” Meera explained kindly, “it’s a
city
farm. It fits in the city, just like the farm
we’re
all going to have when we’re older.”

From that moment on, Meera, Gemma, and Karl planned their real city farm. They read books about farm animals, and they went on every school trip and family outing they could to real farms to see and learn about real animals. All through kindergarten and right through to the last year of elementary school, the three friends planned — but still their city farm was just a dream. Until, that is, the day of the green jelly beans and Auntie Nat’s poodles.

Gemma and Karl were lying on the old merry-go-round in the park, eating jelly beans and looking up into the blue spring sky over Lonchester.

“Give us a push, Gem,” said Karl. “We’re stopping.”

Gemma kicked out lazily at the concrete with one of her superlong legs and started the merry-go-round turning again.

Karl bit a yellow jelly bean in half and sighed.

“April vacation at home with nothing to do but watch Auntie Nat read horoscopes. . . .”

“I’d swap you a year with your auntie’s horoscopes for two weeks with my pimply brother.”

Gemma gave them another push and the merry-go-round creaked on. “Where is Meera, anyway?” she said through a mouthful of red jelly beans. “She said to meet at three o’clock and it’s twenty after now.”

“I’m right here!” Meera ran out of the trees and jumped onto the merry-go-round, sending it spinning wildly. “And I’ve got some good news. This could be the year we start our farm!”

From either side of her, Karl and Gemma both groaned.

“Meera, we don’t have any animals,” said Karl.

“And if we
did
have any animals, where would we keep them?” added Gemma. “My dad’s toolshed?”

“Or the balcony of Auntie’s apartment?” added Karl.

“But if we
did
have somewhere to keep them,” said Meera, sitting bolt upright, “that would be a start, wouldn’t it?”

“But finding somewhere is the difficult part,” said Karl gloomily. “We’ve always known that.”

“Well,” said Meera, her eyes starting to sparkle, “I think I
have
found somewhere! My Auntie Priya works in the city-council offices and she told me about it. There’s an old railway station down by the canal that’s been closed for years. There are buildings to keep animals in and grassy parts for grazing. It sounds perfect.”

“But the city council would never let us have a place like that,” said Gemma.

“It’s probably just ruins covered in brambles,” added Karl.

Meera ignored their objections. “It can’t hurt to go and have a look though, can it?” she said.

But Gemma and Karl still looked doubtful.

“I know!” said Meera, leaping off the merry-go-round. “Let the jelly beans decide!” She snatched the bag from Gemma and struck a pose like an actor on a stage.

“I veel close my eyes. I veel hold out zee magical bag of jelly beans. . . .” Meera paused dramatically. Peeking between her eyelashes, she could see that Karl and Gemma were now both watching her and starting to laugh — she’d
gotten
them! — “And if zee next jelly bean I pull from zee bag eez
green,
you veel be bound by jelly-bean magic to accompany me on my quest for our farm!”

Meera pointed in Karl’s direction.

“Drumroll please, Karl!”

Karl drummed his fingers on the old merry-go-round, and Gemma provided a trumpet fanfare with a rolled-up newspaper she had found.

Meera reached into the bag with her other hand, paused dramatically, and pulled out . . . a green jelly bean!

“Ta-da!”

Karl and Gemma clapped and got off the merry-go-round. Sometimes, you just had to do what Meera wanted, even if you knew that the jelly bean
had
to be green because none of them liked the lime-flavored ones.