THE SUMMER MY SISTERTURNED FOURTEEN,July was so sweltering, the pond shriveled into a mud puddle,and polliwogs wriggled in the creek mud where cats swatted them out withtheir claws. Jimmy took up helping her in the vegetable garden, sinkingin the tomato sticks and weeding the okras and beans and things. Nightshe'd be waiting in the old tire swing. My sister would beg me to go outback with her and Jimmy while they'd sit side by side, the hairs on theirarms almost touching, the two of them staring at ants crawling around abucket rim or peeling labels off a pop bottle while listening to the bullfrogsand katydids. Sometimes the rain smell hung close as sweat, and heat lighteninglit up the air where bats swooped overhead. I'd get so bored, I'd say somethingsilly to try to break the silence, but it seemed like sadness was alwayshovering over them like a stranded angel or some kind of song I never couldget the hang of, no matter how hard I listened or how long they waited.
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