[upbeat music continues] - Hi, my name is Shana, and today I have a story I'd like to share with you guys.

Have you ever heard of the word predict?

Hmm?

Predict.

What does predict mean?

Don't worry.

I'll tell you.

It's just a fancy word for taking a guess.

So good readers always make a prediction of what they think their story is about before they read.

This is my story I want to share with you today.

It's called "The Get Together."

And so I'm gonna show you how to make a prediction, which is also a, guess.

That's right.

So I think this book is going to be about people coming together for a celebration.

They could be friends, they could be family, but I think they're celebrating.

I see smiles on their face.

I see delicious food and a cake.

And usually you have those things and feel this way when you're having a celebration.

Do you wanna give it a try?

What do you see?

Go ahead.

You predict the book will be about blank because blank.

Good try.

This book is written by Christine Taylor-Butler, and it's illustrated by Lonnie Ollivierre.

Today is my great uncle Wesley's 95th birthday.

This year, like every year before, family travels far and wide in celebration.

Black eyed peas, greens and cornbread, pineapple hams and buttermilk biscuits.

Cover tables end to end.

Is that macaroni and cheese I see?

Aunt Birdie's fabulous carrot cake towers above it all.

Dripping mounds of cream cheese frosting.

Mm, that sounds good.

Aunt Thelma slides her brick hard fruitcake to the front of the table.

"Going to have some?"

I asked.

"I may be old, but I'm not crazy."

Says Uncle Wesley.

He winks and sprinkles crumbs on his plate and mine.

"She'll think we had a piece."

Aunt Thelma beams as we walk by.

"Touchdown!"

A chorus of voices explode from the den.

"Check mate!"

cries Uncle Albert from the veranda.

Uncle Wesley tries to let me win at checkers.

I am wise to that trick.

The game always ends in a draw.

Hopscotch erupts on the driveway.

Rocks skip across chalk boundaries.

The clang of horseshoes and the dull thud of croquet mallets reverberates in the shade of hundred year old willow trees dancing in the gentle breeze.

The aromas of sizzling chicken and frying hair float from the kitchen.

Frying hair, if you see in the picture, is a way they used to straighten curly hair back in the day.

So now how we have flat irons and other hair devices to help straighten our hair.

Back then they used to use a hot comb.

Aunt Audrey always uses too much grease on bolts.

And grease is a type of oil to protect your hair when straightening it.

Just like it's a way to protect the chicken so it doesn't get overcooked in the pan.

I slurp on homemade lemonade, tart and sassy.

Uncle Wesley sips sweet tea spiced with fresh mint from the garden.

"Need more sugar?"

Uncle Wesley asks.

"Yes."

I say.

He kisses me on the cheek.

I blush ruby red.

A Twister wheel spins Jamie, long and lanky, touches all four corners without breaking his sweat.

Uncle Wesley, twisted like a pretzel, wins the game.

Brandon gets out ropes tangled like old ivy vines.

"You rest."

I say, as Uncle Wesley puts things right, "I may be old Sarah Jane Johnson, but I've still got a lot of life in me."

And shows us how Double-Dutch jumping is done.

They sure are having a great time.

All these different kinds of food, all these different kinds of games.

Hmm.

This is sounding like a celebration to me.

How about you?

Let's keep reading to see if the prediction is correct.

It's not long before the annual debate starts over who makes the best catfish?

How much fat back to put in the greens and how to get the lumps out of granny Josephine's gravy recipe.

Food flies.

Uh oh.

Cheryl says Linda's hat blocks the sun for miles.

"You wish you looked this good!"

Linda's shouts as she storms across the lawn.

She's easy to spot in the crowd.

She wears so much eyeshadow.

When she blinks it looks like headlights on high beams.

The slap of cards on the table echoes across the lawn.

"Ace beats a king!"

Screams Bobby.

"Cheater!

yells his brother Billy.

Aunt JoAnne uses all of her tiles on a word no one can find in the dictionary.

Letters shower across the patio like hail.

Tensions flair.

Feelings boil.

"This is the wrong kind of ruckus for a party."

Uncle Wesley whispers, "Who's going to put things right once I'm gone?"

I smile a sly smile, crank up the music and hold out my hand.

"Would you like to dance?"

Loud pulsating base shakes the windows and rattles the rafters.

Brian explodes out of his chair unleashing dance moves no other human can do on.

Aunt Vicky joins him, showing off her signature steps.

"Good work."

Uncle Wesley whispers.

As he and I Start an electric slide.

An electric slide is a popular dance that many different generations old young know how to do.

Usually a lot of people do the electric side at celebrations.

Soon everyone is on their feet trying to outdo each other.

Hips, legs, and arms fly in every direction.

So they're really dancing and having a good time.

Do you like to dance?

Cool.

Do you know how to do the electric slide?

Cool.

Soon comes the sweet sound of laughter.

Johnson laughter.

Suddenly thunder cracks in the distance.

The party is ruined.

But the family keeps on dancing.

So the party wasn't ruined after all.

As you can see, they started dancing in the rain.

The end.