Imagine That: Fate

and I had broken into a steady trot and were well away. The driver stopped and shouted something very unpleasant at us, then he went back to the train. By the time he was gone, so were we. Long gone. Like a couple of terrified rabbits.

A few days later. Weed and I were lying in the sun on his back lawn. We were taking it in turns to burn things with a magnifying glass.

"Do you still think everything happens to us because of Fate?" he asked.

"Not blooming likely!" I said, "I'm sure not going to stand around waiting to see if a train is going to turn me into mush!"

"Me neither," said Weed.

And we never argued about it ever again after that.