The faint smell of gas from the lawn mower crept in under the door. Or maybe it was from Mom’s car, which was only a few feet away on the other side of the wall. I lay on my stomach, thinking. Outside, inches from my face, small moths fluttered against the window screen. The light in my room drew them out of the night like a magnet. I tapped the pencil against my teeth. What should I write about, a dog or a pig? Stella wasn’t allergic to pigs, so maybe— Bam! I jumped and the pencil flew from my hand. Bam! Bam! Jeese! “What?” “Open up!” Stella yelled. “Why?” “I have something for you.” Bam! Bam! Bam! “All right, all right, I’m coming.” I slid off the bunk. When I opened the door, Stella shot me. “Hey!” Stella aimed the orange squirt gun at my face and fired again. “What’d you do that for?” “That’s for getting into my Diet Sprite, twerp. Next time, ask.” “I didn’t get into your dumb Sprite.” “That’s Diet Sprite, and you stole my empties.”
