Trucks Coloring Adventure

Ava Crane rolled into the truck yard with her coloring kit tucked safely beneath one arm. Her small yellow body gleamed in the morning sun, and her wheels made a soft rumble over the smooth path.

“Today is mural day!” she called.

The giant wall beside the yard was covered with fresh white paper. It stretched from one end of the fence to the other. Big trucks waited on the paper: a dump truck with a wide bed, a fire truck with a tall ladder, a cement mixer with a round drum, and a tow truck with a strong hook. Their outlines were dark and clear, ready for bright color.

Ava parked near the supply table. The table held cups of water, thick brushes, paper towels, and several boxes of crayons. The air smelled like clean paper and warm wood. From somewhere near the play area came the cheerful beep-beep of a small truck.

Ava opened her kit and smiled at the neat rows inside. Red, blue, yellow, green, orange, purple, brown, and gray rested in their places.

“I will start with the dump truck,” she said. “Its bed can be bright orange, and its wheels can be dark gray.”

She carried the first crayon toward the mural. Then she stopped.

A long strip of paper lay across the path. A brush cup sat beside it, and three empty cardboard boxes leaned against the wall. Ava turned sideways and rolled carefully around the boxes. One wheel bumped a soft sponge, which slid under the supply table.

“Oh!” Ava said, backing up. “This place is busier than I thought.”

She moved the sponge beside the water cup and gathered the loose paper into a tidy stack. When she reached for the crayon box again, her smile faded.

The orange crayon was gone.

Ava checked the table. She lifted the paper towels. She peeked beneath the box marked “Blue.”

“No orange,” she murmured.

She looked at her kit. The red crayon sat in its place. Yellow was there too, but orange was missing.

“Maybe I put it in the wrong box,” Ava said.

She opened the green box. No orange. She opened the purple box. No orange. She checked her own coloring kit twice, even though she knew she had already looked.

Her front wheels felt still. The mural waited, bright and blank.

Ava took a slow breath. The missing crayon was a small problem, but it made her unsure where to begin. She wanted the mural to look just right before playtime ended.

“Perhaps I can start with the blue truck,” she said.

She reached for the blue crayon, then noticed that blue was missing too.

Ava blinked. She checked the supply table again. The red, yellow, green, purple, brown, and gray crayons were there. Orange and blue were not.

“That is two colors,” she said. “Maybe they rolled away.”

She searched beneath the table first. Dust tickled her bumper. She found a pencil, a tiny button, and the sponge she had moved earlier. No crayons.

Next, she followed the edge of the mural wall. A little gust of wind lifted a corner of paper and made it flap. Ava held it down with one wheel while she looked behind it.

Nothing.

She rolled around the boxes. One box was full of cardboard tubes. Another held clean cloths. The third was empty except for a small brown leaf.

Ava sat quietly for a moment. The yard hummed around her. Brushes tapped against cups. Water swished. A fan near the paint station buzzed softly.

She wanted to hurry, but hurrying had already made the supply table messy. If she rushed again, she might miss something important.

“Slow eyes,” she whispered. “Slow wheels.”

Ava returned to the table and studied everything from top to bottom. The crayon boxes were lined up, but the labels had been covered with little spots of paint. The blue box had a green smudge on it. The orange box had a purple mark across the lid.

She lifted the boxes one at a time. Under the red box, she found a folded piece of paper.

“Oh, a note!”

The paper was damp at one corner. A streak of blue paint ran across the middle, and a soft purple smudge covered some of the words. Ava held it close, but the letters were hard to see.

She could make out only a few marks:

“...colors... paint station...”

Ava turned the note over. The back was blank except for a tiny orange spot.

“Is this where the crayons went?” she wondered.

She carried the note to the sunny side of the table. The light made the paper easier to see, but the blue paint still covered most of the writing. Ava traced the edge of the smudge with one careful wheel.

The note seemed to say, “Check the paint sta - ”

Then the rest disappeared beneath a thick purple streak.

Ava looked toward the paint station. It stood at the far end of the yard, beside a row of wide buckets. Brushes rested in jars, and small paint trays waited on a wooden shelf. A few cloths hung from a line to dry.

The path between Ava and the station was not clear. A stack of empty trays blocked one side. A hose curled across the other. Near the middle, a rolling cart held jars of bright paint.

Ava glanced at the mural. The blank trucks seemed to wait patiently.

...