As I climbed on and started speeding down the street, I could feel my sister’s newfound respect fading like an old star, but I couldn’t stop. I turned the corner of Charles and Jefferson as if nothing could touch me – I rode faster and faster. As I rode past the Kizers’ house, . . . one of them shouted, “Nice wig!” And I yelled back, my face bent close to the handlebars, “It’s my real hair!” And then another block up, Ruth Kennedy shouted did I know I was wearing my slippers, and I yelled, “They’re my actual feet!”
—A Girl Named Zippy,
Haven Kimmel
As she rides her bike through town, what can you conclude about Haven Kimmel’s neighborhood?
People seemed to know each other by name.
People seemed to respect Haven Kimmel.
People seemed to ride bicycles.
People seemed to follow Haven Kimmel.