Toby

I was getting a little worried about the rock, the way the faucet out there kept running. Mom’s pretty tough on dirt.

Meanwhile next to me Ralph was working hard on his role, on his Fatima Lad.

Attaboy.

I checked on the little one. She’d gotten over the shakes, or anyway was only shaking her butt now. I didn’t understand this kid.

She noticed me looking and quit bopping around—in fact she turned into a statue, hands together just below the chin, gazing straight ahead. I was thinking, all she needed was a First Communion dress to go with the veil, with some little white socks and shiny black shoes. Have her kneeling in the tent like that, off to the side as you walk in. That would be a nice touch.

I leaned over and whispered I forgave her for twisting my tit. “You were just helping out your big brother. And you know what? I’ll tell you a secret. I wish I had a little sister just...like...you. I’m serious.”

I actually was kind of serious. I’d clean her up, scrub her down, show her what a knife and fork is for—maybe even let her help me with my cards, you know? Teach her how to organize them, calculate trade value, all that. She could be my little—what’s the word—apprentice.

I leaned in closer. “Maybe we’ll order some pizza after this, how’s that sound? Some Damiani’s pizza—with pineapple. You like pineapple on your pizza, Lou? Ever try it?”