Carly tossed her phone down. She hated staying with her grandparents. They lived in the middle of nowhere with terrible internet. And worse, they didn’t seem to care about the problem. Where was Ralph? Her brother never brought his phone with him when they came out here. 

Instead, he turned into a wild hooligan. Well, maybe not a hooligan, but how was she supposed to know when she couldn’t verify what the word meant? She huffed. Outside, she marched toward her brother and his gang of delinquents. What were they doing? They all wore pointless camouflage, with mud and black paint smeared across their faces. Were they having a standoff? There was nothing here but the stupid old treehouse.

“What are you guys doing?” she asked.

Ralph moved toward her, eyes still on the enemy. “We’re guarding our flag, wanna help?”

No, she did not want to help.

“We know where their flag is, but can’t send any of our troops out for it. You could get it for us.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, be boring then.”

She wasn’t boring. She had standards to live up to. There was a difference.

“That guy you like is on their side.”

No way he lived out here, right? Then again, she had nothing else to do. “Fine.”

Minutes later, Carly clutched the flag as she raced toward the treehouse. Someone was on her heels. It was Chance Whittaker who tackled her seconds before she reached it. Fine, she could live without the internet. 

Word: flag | Action: clutched