I slipped on my sandals. “He might be afraid if a stranger comes up to him.” I got out of the van, walked to the nearest house and rang the doorbell. “Excuse me,” I asked the man who answered. “There’s a little boy over there, he looks about five or six, and he’s all alone. Do you know his parents?”

“Kassandra!” my mom called. I turned. I couldn’t see the boy from where I was standing. Mom was waving frantically at me from the van. “What?” I yelled back, a little impatient. I went to the edge of the yard to make sure the boy wasn’t in the street.

The warning lights on the train tracks flashed red. The wooden arms descended in front of the road, blocking cars from crossing. The rhythmic chug-chug-chug of a train got louder. “Run!” Mom screamed from the van. The terror in her voice cut through the clear morning air. The train rumbled into view and let out two desperate whistles. A warning: The engineer saw the boy! But he stayed where he was — right in the middle of the tracks. The whistle sounded again. There’s no way that train can stop in time! The boy jumped up and down and waved at the engineer.

I took off running. My sandals flopped against my feet as I ran, so I kicked them off. The train sped so fast. How could I hope to beat it running barefoot across gravel? I ran faster. I tried to picture myself reaching the boy and picking him up without stopping, crossing the tracks just before the train hit us. — Beliefnet.com