The Weak Branch by Swift

Me and my cousin, Ronny, were climbing the old maple tree.
Mama had dressed us up for church.
My older sister, Nikki, sat on the grass, making a daisy-wreath.
"Ya know you shouldn't be climbing in your nice clothes," she said.
I stuck my tongue out at her, but she wasn't looking.
"We know what we're doin'," Ronny said. "Right, Anthony?" He smiled at me, his recently combed hair already had leaves in it.
I heard mama call for us from the house.
"Come on!" said Nikki. "Get down, we have to go!"
"Make us!" Ronny taunted, and we climbed higher.
"Fine! I will!" seethed Nikki, with one hand she held her fancy skirts out of the way, and the other grabbed a branch. She swung up into the tree and was making her way toward us.
My eyes widened. I looked at Ronny. "We're dead." There was no-where left to climb.
We clung to the trunk, prepared to go down fighting.
She got to us, at the top of the tree, she reached a hand out to grab my shirt collar. "Got you, Anthony!"
Her shoes, her fancy shoes weren't made for climbing, and suddenly, she slipped.
She tried to gasp, but her shriek swept it away.
The sound ended when she hit the ground.
"NIKKI!" I leaned way out to see if she was okay.
Snap!
The tree-limb broke.
And suddenly I was somersaulting downward, and with a thud my upper-back hit the earth, the air was knocked from my lungs.
I lay on the ground, gasping, while Ronny screamed "AUNT DONNA! AUNT DONNA!" in a panic.
Mama came running to the tree. She was dressed nice for church.
"Dear lord!" she exclaimed in a stressed tone. "I leave you alone for ten minutes and you go and try killing yourselves!"
"Wasn't my fault," grumbled Nikki, her face still in the dirt.
"You're alive!" I cried. My back ached tremendously.
"Yes. You all are." said Mama. "And unless you want that to change, you'll be getting in the car, now."
Slightly dirty and grass-stained, we piled into the car, grumbling about aching sides and hungry bellies.
"Don't you ever do that to me again!" said Mama.
Dad started the car. He raised an eyebrow at mama. "So, Darling, how was your morning?"
We had a "cheerful" ride to church that morning, and told dad about my first time falling out of a tree.