Lanie’s hand in mine was warm and I remembered her being little, remembered the last time I felt bigger than her. Some years had passed since then. I started to pull her toward the Sun House, but she pulled back just as insistently. “Not a chance,” she said with a shiver. “Uh-uh.” So we headed right instead. Little rocks rolled under my shoes and made it difficult to walk as fast as I suddenly felt I needed to. One street over from Pendleton was Probart. I tugged my sister in that direction, terribly curious about something Mrs. Rhodes said the day before. The angle of the back porch meant it had to be the house on the left. The house’s left, that is, not mine. It didn’t take long to find them, either. It’s not every day you see a sixty-five-year-old substitute teacher playing Ultimate Frisbee with her brother in the yard. “Go long!” she shouted, and Otis Andrews did, sprinting the length of the yard to grab the Frisbee out of the air. “Yes!” Mrs. Rhodes squealed, jumping and clapping for her brother.
