This is Ria. Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People. It's very hot in my studio. It could be,

because the window is open and it's a sunny mid-spring afternoon. It could be because I just

ran a mile to pump myself up for this story. Or, it could be that my fireplace, the one I have

here in my studio with me, is currently crackling with a blazing fire. I can't figure it out. Anyway, I was

planning to tell you a story about a snail who runs a marathon and wins 37th place. But because it's

so hot, I decided to throw that one out the window and tell you this other story

about our dear friend, Lambden. Let's hear it. It's called Chill Out on the Sleep Railroad. Take it away, Zoe and Zach. Remember, there are no pictures. You'll have to

imagine the pictures in your mind. You can imagine them however you want. Okay, here we go.

Knitting needles have a fascinating history.

It was a Tuesday in late spring, and Lambden was in history class.

His teacher, Mr. Hoofish, was giving a lecture. You might think, but they're so simple,

aren't they? Lambden leaned back in his chair and stared up. For the thousandth time that day, he observed that there was no ceiling fan in the classroom.

In truth, excuse me, in truth, the history of knitting needles is...

Well, it's nothing short of riveting.

Rivoting.

Normally, if a teacher fell asleep,

it would be cause for hushed celebration, the perfect opportunity to draw funny faces on the chalkboard or to break out a deck of cards. But it was not a normal day. The students, Lambden, included, wilted in their seats, joining Mr. Hoofish in his afternoon doze.

You see, for the last four days, the region had been engulfed in a heat wave.

The school had no air conditioning.

The windows were open, but there was no breeze, just stagnant, scorching air.

It was too hot for shenanigans. Even recess offered no relief. It was usually the best time of day,

an opportunity to escape the doldrums of schoolwork and frolic outdoors,

...