On my honor, I will try.
Cora blinked. “You’re not going to tell her?” sienna rae scouts honor
So when Mrs. Albright pulled her aside after the fall jamboree and whispered that the troop’s treasury was missing—two thousand dollars raised from ten years of car washes and cookie sales—Sienna didn’t panic. She pulled out her field notebook, the one with the duct-taped spine, and wrote three words at the top of a fresh page: On my honor, I will try
Sienna found the money on Saturday, stuffed inside a blue duffel behind the shed where they stored the old canoes. She didn’t call the police. She didn’t run to Mrs. Albright. She sat on the damp ground, counted every bill, and then walked to Cora’s apartment. Albright pulled her aside after the fall jamboree
Sienna thought about the Girl Scout Law. Honest and fair. Friendly and helpful. Considerate and caring. It wasn’t a checklist. It was a tightrope.
The pledge wasn’t just words to Sienna Rae. It was a splinter lodged beneath her fingernail—small, sharp, and impossible to ignore.