by Peter Swift
8.
Stevie raced from The Grove and out onto the street. Suddenly, a breathless laughter sliced through the air. A horrible, shrill sound. The kind of laughter that can only come from a soulless sister playing a horrible joke on her little brother.
Stevie stopped and turned. Emily came out of the forest, hands on her sides, laughing so hard she nearly collapsed. She wiggled her fingers at him and made the moaning sound again, same as Stevie had heard, and then leaned on her knees for support.
"I hate you!" Stevie yelled at her, and she quit laughing. He was so mad he just wanted to jump on top of her and pound her face, but he couldn't actually imagine ever hitting Emily. Not for real. "You're a bad sister!"
Stevie turned and stomped angrily towards home. He couldn't believe she'd done such a horrible thing! But in an instant Emily had a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. Tears streaked his face, but he wasn't crying any more. He glared at her.
"Hey, Stevie," Em said. "Hey, you're right. I'm really sorry. This weekend is Halloween, and I thought it would be funny." She grabbed him and hugged him tightly.
"It wasn't!" he said, squirming to get free, but she was five years older and too strong.
"I know," she said quietly. "I'm a jerk. Really, I'm sorry."
Stevie quit fighting and wrapped his arms around her. He knew she wouldn't let go until he did, and anyway, the anger had faded. "Bra-stuffer."
"How do you know?"
Slowly, they started walking home.
"Hey, Em?" Stevie said once he'd calmed down. "I think we're even for raking the leaves now, don't you?"
Emily smiled. "Yeah, I guess that was worth it."
