By Delilah Gorbish & Howie Monroe
Delilah had always been a good girl. She obeyed her parents, looked after her little brothers and sisters, and cooked for the whole family.
“No one makes acorn stew like Delilah,” her granny had said in her final days.
It was the last thing Delilah remembered Granny saying, and a tear came to her eye now, even as she was hurtling through time and space toward ancient Egypt. She had no desire to go there, really. It was a quirk of fate that had put her in a storm cellar with a strange boy and an even stranger dog as they were preparing to escape a tornado by traveling back in time.