I can hear Brett nearby. It would be hard not to; he’s stomping through leaves and shouting every time he sees one. So, basically every other second. I think he’s caught a few already, stuffing them into a rinsed-out jelly jar my mom poked holes in the lid of for this reason.
The thought of them being locked up and keeping them from twinkling between the trees makes me kinda sad. I was going to try to talk him outof it, but he was already jumping down the porch steps, squealing about catching them all.
A little blip of light blinks close, and I move towards it. I hold my breath and quickly try to grab it out of the air.
I open my hands, and…nothing.
“Too slow,” I mumble.
I jump, yelping when Bowen steps up behind me, gently lifting my arm by the elbow. He was standing so quiet, I forgot he had come out with me.
“Like this,” he says, wrapping his fingers with my own, guiding them open and keeping me still. "You gotta wait, kitten.”
My breath slows, and I watch our hands as a light drifts close by. Just inches away. We move slow and steady, and Bowen closes our fingers together. I pull them back to look, and a single flicker of gold blinks on my palm. I smile, and Bowen grazes the side of my hand like he wants to pet the little light before it gets away.
“There,” he whispers, breath tickling the side of my face. “You don’t have to chase them like that. You have to wait for them to move close to you.” Bowen keeps a hold of my hand after the little light flies up and out of reach. He uses it to pull me slowly into the woods, where more flickers are.
I laugh, the echoes of Brett’s screeching close by. “Have you ever thought to tell that to your brother?”
I love summer. Having a mom who’s a teacher and a dad who can work from home is the absolute best. It means we get to spend months at our lake cabin. Well, cabins. Dad said we can sleep in the smaller of the two cabinsthis year since we’re not so little anymore. We, as in Tucker, the twins, and me. Dad set up two sets of new bunks in there, and we all helped clean it up. We may have to share the little space with all the lake toys, a canoe, and some outside stuff, but who cares?
Last night, Brett and I stayed up almost all night long, whispering and sharing stolen gummy worms under my blanket. Don’t know how he was up so early, but he was, tossing pinecones at each of us until Tucker had enough. My brother jumped down from the top bunk, picking up a discarded pinecone and throwing it full force at a screeching Brett, who was already running out the door.
He got exactly what he wanted.
We’re in the thick of some chaotic game that’s just throwing pinecones at each other. Brett is taking it very seriously. He’s ducking behind trees, hurling pinecones like he’s launching grenades at his enemies. There are even war cries.
I try to keep up, but I swear the twins grow twice as fast as I do and move three times faster. There are yells and pinecones flying. I think I even see a flip-flop go sailing from behind a tree, and Tucker is dodging it all left and right.
“Move, kitten!”
I spin, but it’s too late. Brett is after me, a wild smile on his face.
The pinecone hits harder than I would have thought, smacking into my shoulder and bouncing off. It doesn’t hurt; I don’t know why there are tears in my eyes. I’m not a baby.
“Hey!” Bowen yells, coming over and standing between me and his brother. “Not by the face and not so hard, Brett.” He sounds like his mom, scolding him. But Brett is too consumed with the game, being chased down by my brother now.
Bowen brushes dirt off my shoulder before turning to kick the pinecone into the trees like he’s punishing the thing for hurting me.
Kit
Age 9
It’s after dark when the rain starts.
My mom loves summertime thunderstorms, says it breaks up the heat. Ihatestorms. I curl up tighter on top of my blanket, too hot to be underneath, but one more clap of thunder like the last one, and Iwillrisk melting into a pile of mush to hide under the covers. Call me dramatic, I don’t care. I can’t fall asleep when the world is literally growling outside the window.
Brett sighs above me on his bunk, and I feel the bed shift with his rolling. Back and forth. Back. Again.
“Kat-boy,” he whispers, and then his head is there, dangling upside down where I can see him. “Hey, Kat. Didn’t that one sound like one of Tucker’s farts?” he whisper shouts, like I’m not just right below him.
“You mean one of yours?”
Brett shakes his head, curls bouncing back and forth. “Mine are way more impressive. It was a Tucker fart ‘cause it was weak.”
I swear the windows vibrate with how loud the next clap of thunder is. I jump and then jump again when someone walks over and climbs right into bed next to me.
Bowen.
