Creative Writing: Granville Island

I stand in the corner of Granville Island’s pavilion, watching a street performer and breathing in the smell of freshly baked bread from the bakery behind me. Mom and Dad were standing in the super long line for the ferry back to Vancouver, but I know that there’s plenty of time for doing anything because the line’s so long.
“Hey, Mom? Is the line shorter?” I call out. No answer.
“Mom?” I ask. Still, all I hear are claps and whoops from the performer’s audience.
“Dad? IT’S ME, MADISON!” I yell, hoping that at least he will answer, but he doesn’t. I wait a few seconds, then sprint to the False Creek Ferries terminal where they should be standing. Standing on my tiptoes, I scan the crowd for Mom and Brianna’s flaming, impossible to miss red hair.

A couple people glare at me, but I continue rushing to the dock.
A couple boats are floating through English Bay’s water, and I realize my family is on one of them. How am I supposed to go back? I could swim, but the water is super deep and being on swim team in second grade isn’t going to help. Plus, I doubt the passengers would like that. I could somehow make money for fare...with the mime? I could always run across the bridge connecting Granville Island to the mainland, but the traffic is crazy.
I walk over to the pavilion, where the mime’s holding court.
“Hey, hey, hey! How would anyone like to see some handcuff action? Any volunteers?” he booms. No, not me. Definitely not. Dad and Mom will kill me if they find out I handcuffed myself on purpose. No, I’ll have to find my own way to make money- not that I mind working alone.
I run to an empty spot near that bakery I was standing next to. I kick up into a handstand, and hold it for ten seconds before coming down. Next, I attempt a back handspring. I think I’ll be able to do it on concrete. I swing my arms up above my head, jump back, wince when gravel cuts into my hands, and rebound