Jane that Skye wasn’t going to claim being the oldest for Dominic. If Skye didn’t want to, could someone else? How exciting to be the oldest for once, and especially the once that included a boy with such flair and swagger. Jane thought quickly. She refused to lie—no boy could be worth that—but there was something she could say, if she was careful.
“Neither of us is the oldest sister, really. That’s Rosalind, who’s in New Jersey. But we have a littlesister, named Batty. You should meet her, Mercedes—she’s only five, but advanced for her age. Anyway, Dominic, when it’s just me and Batty, I’m the oldest.”
Jane didn’t dare look at Skye or Jeffrey. She kept her attention on Dominic, who seemed to be trying to work out what she’d just said. It took him a while, but at last he nodded, leaped onto his skateboard, and skated off with the maximum noise and spectacle.
Jane watched him go. “I wonder if he plays soccer.”
“No, but I do.” Mercedes was struggling to remount her bike, since her brother showed no sign of waiting for her. “That is, I’d like to.”
While Jane steadied the bike, Jeffrey helped Mercedes on, then gave her a push in the right direction. She turned to wave and almost crashed but managed to keep going without further injury. When Mercedes was safely out of sight, the threesome set off again, with Skye in the lead and moving quickly. Not so quickly that they might catch up with the Orne siblings—that was the last thing Skye wanted—but just enough to burn off her irritation with Dominic, whose conversational skills hadn’t impressed her at all. Why Jane had been so friendly to him was a mystery. Rosalind had wanted them to be polite to people in Maine, but being polite is one thing, and telling people where you live is quite another. Unless Jane hadn’t noticed that Dominicwas all hair and attitude. No, not even Jane could be that gullible, right? Skye glanced back at Jane but wasn’t reassured—Jane was again muttering to herself about love.
Skye groaned. Why, oh why, had she ever agreed to be the OAP?
Then she heard the barking, and Dominic flew out of her mind. It was Hound’s barking, the kind that said Trouble Trouble Trouble. Skye threw her share of the groceries at Jeffrey and Jane and took off toward Birches, running, running, and as she got closer, along with Hound’s deep barking she could now hear Hoover’s yapping. She ran faster. Whatever bad was happening involved Batty—Skye was sure of it. Batty had been blown up, drowned, smashed on the rocks, or some combination of the three. And it was all Skye’s fault. She would never get over the guilt, and her father and Rosalind would hate her forever.
Past Alec’s house now, and Skye could tell that the barking was coming from behind Birches. Around the house she flew, and suddenly Batty, without any visible wounds, was running toward her.
“You’re alive!” said Skye, so relieved her heart hurt.
Ignoring such an obvious statement, Batty grabbed Skye’s hand and urgently pulled her across the lawn. At first Skye could see only Alec, standing near the seawall, holding the two dogs, who had finally stoppedbarking. Then Alec stepped aside, and there on the ground was Aunt Claire, clutching her ankle and trying to look brave.
Skye rushed over. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” Aunt Claire smiled, then winced.
“She fell off the seawall,” said Batty.
“It was Hoover’s fault,” said Alec. “He startled your aunt, and she fell.”
Hoover again! Skye turned on Alec. “You can’t control him at all!”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Skye was trying hard to loathe the man and his dog, but Alec was making it difficult by being so sincerely remorseful. Meanwhile, Jane and Jeffrey had arrived. Explanations were made all over again, with Alec apologizing several more times while Skye knelt beside her aunt.
“How badly are you hurt?” she asked.
“I think it’s just a
“Neither of us is the oldest sister, really. That’s Rosalind, who’s in New Jersey. But we have a littlesister, named Batty. You should meet her, Mercedes—she’s only five, but advanced for her age. Anyway, Dominic, when it’s just me and Batty, I’m the oldest.”
Jane didn’t dare look at Skye or Jeffrey. She kept her attention on Dominic, who seemed to be trying to work out what she’d just said. It took him a while, but at last he nodded, leaped onto his skateboard, and skated off with the maximum noise and spectacle.
Jane watched him go. “I wonder if he plays soccer.”
“No, but I do.” Mercedes was struggling to remount her bike, since her brother showed no sign of waiting for her. “That is, I’d like to.”
While Jane steadied the bike, Jeffrey helped Mercedes on, then gave her a push in the right direction. She turned to wave and almost crashed but managed to keep going without further injury. When Mercedes was safely out of sight, the threesome set off again, with Skye in the lead and moving quickly. Not so quickly that they might catch up with the Orne siblings—that was the last thing Skye wanted—but just enough to burn off her irritation with Dominic, whose conversational skills hadn’t impressed her at all. Why Jane had been so friendly to him was a mystery. Rosalind had wanted them to be polite to people in Maine, but being polite is one thing, and telling people where you live is quite another. Unless Jane hadn’t noticed that Dominicwas all hair and attitude. No, not even Jane could be that gullible, right? Skye glanced back at Jane but wasn’t reassured—Jane was again muttering to herself about love.
Skye groaned. Why, oh why, had she ever agreed to be the OAP?
Then she heard the barking, and Dominic flew out of her mind. It was Hound’s barking, the kind that said Trouble Trouble Trouble. Skye threw her share of the groceries at Jeffrey and Jane and took off toward Birches, running, running, and as she got closer, along with Hound’s deep barking she could now hear Hoover’s yapping. She ran faster. Whatever bad was happening involved Batty—Skye was sure of it. Batty had been blown up, drowned, smashed on the rocks, or some combination of the three. And it was all Skye’s fault. She would never get over the guilt, and her father and Rosalind would hate her forever.
Past Alec’s house now, and Skye could tell that the barking was coming from behind Birches. Around the house she flew, and suddenly Batty, without any visible wounds, was running toward her.
“You’re alive!” said Skye, so relieved her heart hurt.
Ignoring such an obvious statement, Batty grabbed Skye’s hand and urgently pulled her across the lawn. At first Skye could see only Alec, standing near the seawall, holding the two dogs, who had finally stoppedbarking. Then Alec stepped aside, and there on the ground was Aunt Claire, clutching her ankle and trying to look brave.
Skye rushed over. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” Aunt Claire smiled, then winced.
“She fell off the seawall,” said Batty.
“It was Hoover’s fault,” said Alec. “He startled your aunt, and she fell.”
Hoover again! Skye turned on Alec. “You can’t control him at all!”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Skye was trying hard to loathe the man and his dog, but Alec was making it difficult by being so sincerely remorseful. Meanwhile, Jane and Jeffrey had arrived. Explanations were made all over again, with Alec apologizing several more times while Skye knelt beside her aunt.
“How badly are you hurt?” she asked.
“I think it’s just a
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