"Not So Little" [a sister become stronger than her big brother]

[Sieming]

I originally posted this story on Saradas about 9 months ago. I just finished a pretty large rewrite, and I thought I would post the new version. I did the rewrite because:

• The story has changed enough as it unfolded that the start needed a few updates.
• My tools for fixing grammar and punctuation problems have improved.
• I think I've gotten a little better at writing.

I hope you like the new version.

NOTE 1: This is still a VERY slow burn story about a sister who becomes stronger than her brother and how they deal with those changes. If you're not into the story by the end of Chapter 2, you should probably bail. The story does go places, but certainly not quickly.

NOTE 2: The story is told from multiple points of view. If the point of view character changes mid-chapter, the change is denoted by three em-dashes: — — —

[Sieming]

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[Sieming]

1. Stronger Than You Look

The sun hung low over the fields as Rob stacked the last split log by the shed. His arms ached in that good way. He flexed, catching the line of his bicep—a bump. Nothing big, but definitely there.

Three months of sneaking in morning push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups were starting to show. He squeezed them in whenever he had the time and whenever he remembered. His plan was to keep his workouts to himself, at least until someone else noticed.

He wiped his palms on his jeans and grabbed the wheelbarrow handles, rattling it toward the barn. Dust floated in the warm air. The smell of hay, dirt, and old wood drifted out to meet him. Somewhere in the pasture, Cricket snorted. Jenny's laughter followed, sharp and free. Rob looked up just in time to see them vault the fence rail—hair bouncing, legs gripping the mare tightly. Show-off. Saddled in the morning and bareback in the evening had become her summer routine.

He smiled despite himself.

Evenings like this were his favorite: chores all but done, the air cooling a touch, chickens settling in quietly, and light stretching across the field in long, warm lines. No one expected anything from him. For a moment, it was just him, the work finished for now, and the quiet.

He pushed the empty wheelbarrow into place and leaned against the barn wall, catching his breath, sweat still clinging to his shirt. The punching bag hung from a rafter, waiting. It was as much a fixture as the hayloft, but he'd never seen anyone use it. Not for real.

Rob stepped forward and gave it a couple of quick jabs. His knuckles stung, the bag shifting slightly with each strike. He flexed again, seeing the small muscle shift beneath his skin.

"Not bad," he muttered.

The words felt hollow, even to him.

Not bad? Was that all? Defined? Sure, but only because his arms were so thin. A secret bump that he was proud of, but one you could only see if the light caught it right. His friends were all taller, stronger, and filling out faster than he was. Some of the girls, too.

Melissa's legs had looked impressive when she'd walked up the porch steps a couple of weeks ago. Rebecca, sitting in front of them in church yesterday, had a curve to her arm that was obvious when she tied up her hair. Hard not to notice. Hard to concentrate afterward, too.

Basketball season was coming soon. Rob was fast—sharp on defense, Coach said. But guys barely scraping five feet didn't make varsity; they warmed the JV bench. One of these days, a growth spurt had to come.

He sighed and started toward the house. Jenny's laugh cut across the pasture again, carrying farther than before. She cleared another fence without hesitation and broke into a gallop across the field, heading back toward the barn.

She'd been growing up a lot lately.

Not long ago, he could have carried half again what she could. Now? Not so much. She'd catch him in another year or two. Maybe sooner. Not that he minded; it seemed to make her happy. He didn't mind much, anyway. It did make the chores go quicker when she helped. And she helped more and more with chores that used to be his.

Earlier that week, Rob had asked his dad why they were building an outdoor shower. "Isn't the hose good enough?"

His dad didn't look up from the posthole he was digging. "Good enough for us, but Jenny's been doing more of the work this year. You think I'm gonna tell your sister to wash up with a garden hose?"

Rob opened his mouth, then shut it. He definitely wasn't picturing that.

Dad nodded toward the stack of cedar planks. "Anyway," he said, "your mom wants benches and a couple of showerheads. A little oasis. It makes more sense than breaking up concrete and plumbing the basement."

Rob frowned at the pile of wood. "Benches? For a shower?"

"She wants what she wants. Think of it more as an outdoor spa. It'll be nice after hauling hay. You'll see."

Rob raised an eyebrow. "We get to use it too?"

His dad grinned. "I don't see why not." He drove the posthole digger down again, easy and sure. Rob watched for a beat, then went to grab more posts from the pile.

— — —

The next morning, Jenny slipped through the barn door. The hinges groaned in protest, and cool dew clung to her shoes. Inside, the smell of hay, animals, and leather wrapped around her like a blanket.

"Morning, girl," she murmured. Cricket lifted her head, a soft whicker in reply.

Jenny liked this part best—before the day crowded in, before Rob had some new crazy scheme. Before the real chores. Just her and the animals.

She brushed Cricket down, moving quickly, then swung the saddle onto the mare's back. Rob used to help her with that when he wasn't so busy in the mornings—not that she needed his help anymore. She tugged the cinch snug herself, too. It creaked a bit but held.

Outside, mist hugged the grass. Jenny nudged Cricket forward. They trotted, then picked up speed, hooves muffled against the ground. At the far fence, she didn't hesitate. With a click of her tongue and a forward lean, she sent Cricket toward it. The mare gathered herself, lifted, and cleared.

For a heartbeat, Jenny was flying. No weight. No ground. Only air.

She landed laughing. It sure beat opening gates.

Later, she poured grain into the feeder. The bag was heavy, but not as heavy as it used to be. Chores felt easier now, too. Buckets didn't slosh as much. Tools felt lighter. Even after a long day, her arms didn't ache the way they used to. She hadn't meant to get stronger. It had just started happening, and it didn't seem like it was finished.

She thought back to the night before, when they had ended up wrestling on the basement floor. The carpet smelled of dust and old popcorn, and she didn't remember who had started it. It didn't matter. They had been wrestling for years. Last night, it had ended with Rob on top of her, pushing her arms back until her shoulders were on the ground.

"Pinned." He grinned, his breath warm against her face.

Usually, once her arms hit the floor, that was the end, but she was stronger now. "Not yet," she said as she pushed back harder. At first, nothing happened. Then her arms rose off the floor. For a second, Rob's grip faltered. His eyes widened a little before he bore down again.

Jenny gritted her teeth and kept pushing. Her shoulders and arms burned with effort, her swimmer's muscles bent to a new task.

"I'm getting stronger," she said, half-teasing, half-breathless.

He grinned, but he was breathing hard, too—that was new. "Maybe," he huffed, and his arms tightened, trying to press her flat again.

She wriggled, arched her back, and kept pushing. His grin collapsed into a clenched jaw, then flickered back, shaky now.

"Stronger than you look," he muttered, almost as though he hadn't meant to say it aloud.

A moment later, he drove her arms down.

But Jenny's arms held, and Rob rose instead, hovering above her in a push-up supported by her strength. It only lasted a moment. They sank together into the carpet and into the pin.

Jenny couldn't help the grin that spread across her face—a mix of pride and triumph despite not winning—not winning yet.

"Just as strong as I look."

She remembered something else, too. His arms weren't big, but there had been a bump there the night before, a noticeable curve she hadn't seen until then.

She liked it. Maybe she would get one too.

She gave Cricket one last pat. Sunlight crept higher, warming the grass. She flexed her arm to see what was there as she headed to the house. The days would crowd in soon enough, and like her, they were getting harder to pin down.

[Sieming]

2. Comparisons Are Dangerous

The dirt road from the house ended at The Pond. Rob didn't know why they called it that; it was more like a small lake. But Granddad had called it The Pond, and since he'd made it, maybe he had the right. The Pond was fed by the creek that entered on the far side. Creek water, once it served its time in The Pond, slipped out in a steady gurgle over the spillway. A spring bubbled cold somewhere in the middle, creating oddly chilly patches they would sometimes drift into. It was a matter of serious debate between him and Jenny whether the same patches of water were always cold.

They kicked off their shoes and crossed the small beach. The swim out to the dock was refreshing in the summer heat. Jenny was first to the dock, but Mel was the first up the ladder and bounced around on the too-hot boards in a way he hadn't noticed at the start of the summer.

"Ouch! Ouch! A little help here, please?"

Jenny joined Rob, splashing water across the boards and over Mel.

Jenny was up the ladder next, and once Rob was on the dock, he settled next to her. The dock heaved once as he sat down, then eased back into its slow, wind-inspired rhythm. Jenny had picked the dock today, but she was just as likely to chose the little beach, the rock ledge, or the rope swing. He didn't care. They were all fine with him.

The Pond had always been their place, and when Mel started showing up at the house more often after Madison... Well, it just seemed natural to include her too. They could forget about the rest of the world out here.

The girls' conversations always ranged far and wide, but Rob took more interest when Jenny tilted her head toward Mel and said, "Your legs look different."

"Different good?" Mel stretched one out of the water, still dripping, toes pointed straight.

Jenny grinned. "Different good. Impressive."

Mel shifted her leg right and left, the muscles standing out. "Track season'll do that. And squats. Lots of squats."

"Squats," Rob echoed. "I thought those were just for punishment." That seemed to be what Coach used them for during basketball practice, anyway. Squats hadn't done that to his legs.

"They're both," Mel agreed.

Rob lifted his own leg, pointed his toe, curious.

Jenny smirked and reached out to squeeze each of their legs. "Hard." She tipped her chin at Mel's quad. "But not as big."

"Pretty close, though, right?" The heat on his face wasn't just from the sun. Rob dropped his foot back into the water with a little splash. Still, Mel took home plenty of 100-yard dash medals last year. She earned her legs.

"Mine weren't quite like this before track season," she said. "Not as much to brag about. I mean, they weren't sticks, but this was a bit of a surprise." Mel continued to twist her foot left and right.

Rob watched her quads move with each shift. He glanced down at Jenny's legs—nearly the same size as his now. He remembered the last time they wrestled; she'd been much harder to pin. Rob tried not to think about how fast everyone else was changing, but the thought circled in his head. Mel was a year younger, and if she was working out this hard, maybe he needed to work out more, too.

Jenny noticed him looking.

"Just comparing," he muttered.

"Comparisons are dangerous," Mel said in a little sing-song voice, still flexing back and forth.

Jenny leaned back on her palms, squinting at the shimmer off the water. "Speaking of things that have gotten bigger over the summer." Rob saw where Jenny was looking and looked away. "Your suit looks about ready to give up—and about ready to give Rob a heart attack."

That wasn't entirely fair, but Rob had wondered about all the changes that Mel had going on up there recently, and her bikini wasn't leaving a lot to the imagination—not that he was complaining.

Mel glanced down like she was surprised to find them there. "Tell me about it. It fit fine in May when I bought it. Now, it's anybody's guess if I'll come out with it when I dive in." She grabbed them and set them back into place, one eye on Rob. He didn't look over.

"Could be worse," Mel continued. "Kara ended the year flat and is coming back with some curves and a whole new set of bras. That's got to be harder. At least the boys already know where I stand."

Jenny laughed. "True. But at least the two of you are moving in the right direction." She sighed. "This suit has lasted me three years, and I still have the bras I started with."

"Joanie left me bags of her old bras. I've been working my way up the ranks."

Rob stared hard at the water, trying not to picture any of that. Heat rose in his face again, different from the sun this time.

Jenny tilted her head slyly. "Maybe a new red one for your birthday."

"One brand-new bra in my life wouldn't hurt," Mel admitted. She looked over at Rob, eyes bright, then looked back down at her ever-expanding territory. "Though at this rate, it might not last long."

Jenny's gaze followed Mel's, then swung back to her brother. Rob was busy studying the way the ripples moved on The Pond and pretending he hadn't heard a word.

Mel's smile widened. "You're awfully quiet over there."

"I—" He floundered, then gave the only safe answer he could think of. "I think I'm supposed to ignore this conversation." This rather fascinating conversation—he added to himself.

Jenny slugged him in the arm. "Good instinct."

— — —

Mel rolled her eyes at Rob's reply. She didn't mind when people noticed her body. She worked hard on her legs and was proud of them. She'd done what her sisters suggested to increase her bust, though she might lay off those exercises for now. Instead, she could focus more on her backside. Squats were helping already, and it would be nice to balance out the front more. But talking like that—with Rob sitting there, pretending the pond water was fascinating—got her a little worked up. She certainly didn't say things like that around other boys, but Rob was safe. Still, maybe now would be a good time for a dip.

She tugged the straps into place again. Time for another gamble.

"It's getting a little hot out here," she said, pushing up to her feet. She didn't wait for a reply; she dove in.

The Pond closed over her, cool and clean. The spring's cold seam found her ribs and almost made her gasp. It also made her notice that The Twins had slipped out. She tucked them back in on the way to the surface. The Twins. The name had taken on a new meaning lately. It used to be her little pet nickname for Jenny and Rob—one she would never say out loud. They were inseparable; plus, Jenny was nearly his size now. Nearly his size and two years younger. That must be weird for him. Maybe for her too.

She broke the surface thinking of both sets of twins and her own family. Joanie was mostly away at college. Madison was back in town, but different since the accident. Her parents were more distant now, too. They tried, but Madison was on their minds a lot. Easier to be with the Wilsons instead. She took a breath and slid under, angling for the ladder.

She surfaced, water streaming down her face, and took the rungs two at a time. She hauled herself up by the top bars, closed her eyes, and shook her hair out hard, water flying like glitter in the light.

"Wow," Jenny said, as Mel realized it wasn't just her hair shaking. She hoped everything was still in place.

When she opened her eyes, Rob had his hands up, his fingers extended at right angles, staring intently... at her face?

Mel grinned. "Jeez, Rob, take a picture."

Jenny's voice came right after, dry as always. "I think that's what he's doing."

Mel laughed and slid down beside Rob. Nice, safe Rob.

— — —

Rob was thinking about the right f-stop and how to recreate the lighting as Mel slid down beside him. The dock shifted under her weight and gently bobbed back to normal. He didn't need to look up to know she was there; her damp shoulder was already cooling his arm.

He'd have to get her a new swimsuit. He certainly appreciated this one, but the judges wouldn't. "You can't wear that suit for the shoot—"

Both girls turned on him from opposite directions.

Mel raised an eyebrow. Jenny blinked once, then leaned in, voice flat. "The what now?"

Heat shot up the back of his neck. He made the mistake of glancing over, and Mel grinned at him like he'd just signed a confession. "I didn't mean—" He fumbled, then tried to recover. "I just meant... light. Angles. That kind of thing."

Melissa tilted her head. "Since when do you care about light and angles?"

Rob scratched the back of his neck, wishing the dock would swallow him. "Since the fair. I got third place for that photo of Jenny riding Cricket. I was thinking of using some of my hay-hauling money—probably some steer money too—on a real camera."

Mel rested her chin on her knees, still smiling. "So we're talking photo shoots now?"

Rob groaned. "I didn't say that."

Jenny smirked. "You definitely did."

They lay back on the dock for a while, letting the sun wash over them and the dock roll under them. Jenny was the first to speak.

"Do you really have enough money to buy a real camera? With lenses and everything?"

"My steer didn't place, but it still sold pretty well, and Dad said I could keep whatever it brought over market." Rob paused. "Montgomery boys pay decent enough. Tom, Don, and Steve each get a bigger share than me because I drive truck."

Mel's head tilted. "Because you're the smallest."

Rob gave a sheepish shrug. "Somebody has to. I help stack in the barn too. I don't just drive."

Jenny was watching him closely now. "I could use some money. I could haul hay next summer."

Rob looked at her. She was serious. It almost sounded like a challenge.

"If we need a driver," he said, aiming for a joke but hearing how it landed flat.

Jenny sat up and rolled her shoulders. "I'm getting stronger. I'm one of the best on the swim team. Chores are getting easier, too."

Rob's eyes caught on her back as she leaned forward. Was her back as broad as his? Probably not, but definitely broader than Mel's, and Mel was a year older and six inches taller than her. There were no muscles bunching up under her old bikini straps, but she was solid. He thought of wrestling in the basement and how much harder it was to pin her now. She was absolutely getting stronger.

Mel was right. Comparisons were dangerous. He'd have to work harder.

[Sieming]

3. Bareback

Jenny wasn't going to miss her evening ride just because a cow was out. Besides, Cricket was the best way to cover the fence line. The whole day felt wrong if she didn't swing onto Cricket's back at least once.

Rob clanked around with an old paint bucket, dropping in pliers, staples, wire, and whatever else he thought they'd need. The new camera, his constant companion these past two weeks, bounced against his chest as he leaned over. Jenny gave a small shake of her head and lifted the saddle onto Cricket's back. Rob didn't offer to help with the saddle anymore or with the cinch strap. She liked that. Jenny gave the cinch strap a good tug, pleased with herself—until it snapped.

She hit the ground in a tangle of saddle leather, the broken strap still in her fist. Cricket snorted at her.

"Are you okay?" Rob asked as he lifted the saddle off her.

Jenny brushed straw from her jeans and pushed herself to her feet. "I think so," she said, the broken strap still dangling from her hand.

"Well," Rob said, "I guess we'll be walking the fence today."

Like that was an option. Jenny set her jaw and swung onto Cricket's bare back in one clean move. "Don't need a saddle. We'll be fine."

Rob started to protest, but she leaned down, hand out. "Come on. We don't have all day."

Before he took her hand, he passed her the bucket—right, the bucket. She clamped it between her legs, then reached down again. With a grunt, she hauled him up behind her. She was a little surprised she could do that. His weight settled against her back, enough to feel but not enough to shift her balance. Cricket flicked an ear but stood ready. Jenny clicked her tongue, guiding Cricket out into the cooling October air.

Once outside, Jenny decided she needed a better grip and silently handed the bucket back to Rob. After all, if he lost his balance, he could hold on to her. She felt him slide back and place the bucket between them. Then his hands reached out and grabbed her shoulders as Cricket picked up a little speed. She smiled. There really wouldn't be much to do until they found the break in the fence. Might as well enjoy the ride.

Rob's hands were steady on her shoulders as Cricket carried them down the lane. Occasionally, his hands would slip down to her upper arms. The mare's stride was easy, head bobbing, hooves soft against the dirt. Jenny felt the weight behind her shift once or twice as Rob got comfortable with the bucket. His squeezes didn't always line up with his shifts; she wondered when he would notice.

"Where's Mel been hiding lately?" he asked over her shoulder. "I haven't seen her around as much."

Jenny smirked. "She's not hiding. Her squat rack finally showed up. She decided to switch rooms with Joanie so she'd have space for it. We've been moving stuff all week."

Rob gave a low whistle. "A whole squat rack? For her birthday?"

Jenny just nodded, eyes on Cricket. She knew what was coming next.

"Why?" Rob asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "She's fast. Her legs already look great. Why a squat rack?"

Jenny felt her mouth go a little dry as she decided what to say. She could tell him the truth—Mel wanting to be ready for track season—or the whole truth. Mel was working her legs, yes, but she also wanted to balance out her ever-expanding bust line. Jenny glanced down at her own flat chest and then at her thighs gripping Cricket's warm sides. Her legs were at least decent. Not Mel's, but not nothing either.

"Track season," she said finally. "She wants to be as dominant as Tara. Just, you know... on dry land."

There was a pause behind her. Jenny waited, expecting Rob to make some crack about Mel, but instead he muttered, "She's got a killer breaststroke."

Jenny frowned, turning her head slightly. "What? Mel never competed in that."

"Not Mel... Nothing," Rob said quickly. "I was just thinking about sports."

Jenny let it go. But why was he thinking about Mel doing the breaststroke? He knew that was one of her events. She was good at it too. Not as good as Tara, but good. At least Mel wouldn't be able to beat her at that.

She shifted forward a little, pretending to adjust her seat, and Cricket picked up the pace. Rob held on tight.

The lane narrowed as Cricket carried them into the trees, and the air cooled where the branches reached over the fence line. Jenny could smell the damp leaves and the occasional faint, sharp bite of pine. The mare slowed on her own, ears flicking as the brush closed in on either side.

"There." Jenny pointed. A dead oak had come down from the neighbor's side, splitting as it fell. The trunk sprawled across the fence, dragging the woven wire half off its posts. One end of the barbed wire was hiding in the grass.

Jenny slid off first, boots crunching on the leaves. Rob slid off, dropped the bucket with a clank, and gave the tree an appraising look.

"Not as bad as it could be," he said, though he was frowning.

Jenny pressed her palms against one of the cracked sections of oak. It shifted just enough to tell her they could move it if they worked together. "Grab the other end."

Rob handed her a pair of gloves as he put his on. Good of him to bring a pair for her too. What was she thinking?

They wrestled with it. The wood was rough even against her gloved hands. Rob braced his feet and heaved; Jenny leaned her shoulder in and shoved. Piece by piece, they rolled or dragged it off the wire until the last section tipped free with a thud.

Jenny straightened, brushing bark dust from her arms. "See? Easy," she said, still breathing heavily from the effort.

Rob grinned and wiped his palms on his jeans. "Good thing it broke apart when it fell."

Jenny snorted but crouched at the fence, pulling the loose wire tight. "We could have handled it. Hand me the staples."

He dug in the bucket and passed her a handful. Jenny set her jaw, lined the woven wire against the post, and hammered the first staple home. She felt Rob's eyes on her while she leaned into the work, pulling and setting, until her arms burned from the strain.

When she finally looked up, he was holding the camera instead of the bucket.

"Seriously?" she said.

He shrugged, one eye still squinting behind the viewfinder. "You look... I don't know. Determined. It was a good shot."

Jenny shook her head but didn't tell him to stop. She turned back to the post, tugging the wire again, her arms trembling, aware of his shutter clicking behind her. Then she became aware of him working close over her as he spliced the barbed wire back together at the top of the post. She leaned back against his legs, content.

Rob was still twisting wire when Jenny caught a flick of movement past the trees. She straightened, shading her eyes. "There she is, and she's brought her calf."

"Probably got out going after her calf," Rob added. "That's a good mama."

A black-as-coal Angus cow nosed at the neighbor's grass, her calf at her side. Rob muttered, "Shoot. We should have brought Cricket over to this side before we fixed the fence."

Jenny swung a leg over the post and dropped back into their woods. "No problem."

Before he could say more, she mounted, clicked her tongue, and urged Cricket forward. The mare surged under her, hooves drumming. Jenny leaned low, the wind pulling at her hair. The fence rushed up fast.

Halfway there, she remembered—no saddle. No stirrups. Just her thighs and balance. She clenched her legs hard, heart slamming as Cricket gathered herself for the leap.

They cleared the fence in a clean arc, Jenny's legs clutching and teeth clenching. On the other side, she let out a whoop she hadn't planned.

Somewhere behind her came the faint click of Rob's shutter. She wouldn't mind seeing thatone.

Jenny wheeled Cricket wide, circling the cow and calf. She pushed them back toward home, careful not to spook the calf. This was familiar work now—Rob coaxing the cow along the fence line while she ranged further out, making sure the cow didn't make a break for it. That seemed unlikely in this case.

Once the gate was in view, Jenny leaned forward and gave Cricket her head. The mare lunged into a gallop, the sudden burst of speed snapping through Jenny's legs and chest. The wind tore at her shirt as she reached ahead, grabbing handfuls of mane and squeezing tight with her thighs.

Riding bareback was more exciting lately. Those first powerful strides lifted her hips, then let them fall, establishing a rhythm in her core. Each movement of the mare sent waves of sensation through her, an insistent pulse that she could either yield to or risk being thrown. Her thighs instinctively tightened around Cricket's flanks again, strong muscles tensing and releasing in quick succession. As she drew her abdomen taut to maintain control, the motion was undeniable—an insistent cadence through her hips. The sensation, far from unpleasant, sent a subtle warmth through her body, leaving her breathless.

At the gate, Jenny slid off, unsteady for a moment, and swung it open. Now she just had to wait and catch her breath. The pair balked for a moment, then Rob said something that must have sounded encouraging to a cow, because they turned and walked obediently through the gate.

He leaned against the fence, grinning. "Nice work."

Jenny smiled back. "We're a good team."

She led Cricket through, and Rob closed the gate. Jenny let herself slip down into the grass, letting the reins drop from her hands, and lay on her back. The cool blades pressed against her skin, grounding her after the rush of riding bareback. Cricket wandered off, already grazing.

Rob lay down nearby. The sky above was soft with late light, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. They just listened to the muffled sounds of the cow and calf as they joined their friends.

Rob's head was opposite hers, and he was staring at the wide sky above them as their breaths slowly fell into rhythm. For a while, there was only the creak of the gate and the soft rip of Cricket tearing at grass.

Jenny folded an arm under her head, watching a crow circle above the pasture. "What are you wearing to the Halloween party next week?"

Rob turned his face toward her, squinting against the light. "Dunno. Clark Kent?"

Jenny smirked. "To Rachel's Superman?"

He rolled his eyes. "I wish. She's too tall; it wouldn't work. What about you?"

"Mel's already picking out costumes. I think she wants us to match." Jenny let the thought hang, not sure she liked how they'd look in the same outfit.

The quiet stretched again, easy, until Rob broke it. "We need a better way to carry stuff if we're going to keep riding bareback. That bucket between my knees almost killed me."

Jenny snorted. "You're the passenger. Bucket's your problem. Just hang on tighter."

Rob propped himself on one elbow. "Easy for you to say. You know how to ride bareback. I was one slip away from certain death back there. You hold the bucket."

"Fine," Jenny said, rolling onto her stomach. "Winner decides."

Rob rolled too, bracing for a wrestling match—only to find Jenny with her elbow planted in the grass, arm up.

"Something new," she said.

He barked a laugh. "Looking for a new way to lose?"

Their hands locked, his palm warm and dry against hers. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. Rob's arm wasn't big, but it was wiry, the kind that showed every line when he strained. She caught the little pop of his bicep and found herself wishing hers would do that. Hers looked solid enough, but it didn't pop.

She started pushing.

She knew he was stronger. She didn't once feel like she was winning, but he wasn't brushing her aside either. Thirty seconds in, and he still hadn't put her down. Her arm didn't look small pushing against his. For once, she could picture herself winning.

Then his expression shifted into something more serious, like he'd stopped playing. He adjusted his grip, just a little, and she felt the balance shift. Her wrist tilted, knuckles creeping toward the grass no matter how hard she pushed back. He pressed her down slowly and steadily until the back of her hand touched grass.

"Still undefeated," Rob said, but he looked thoughtful.

She laughed and shook out her arm. She hadn't expected to win. But it wasn't an easy victory for him either. Not anymore. Not at first. Maybe she should start working out too.

Cricket flicked an ear when Jenny whistled, ambling back toward them. Jenny grabbed the reins and swung up smoothly, settling onto the mare's back. Rob held the bucket out, and this time she took it without complaint, gripping it between her knees. It was awkward. They did need a better system.

She reached down, grabbed her brother's forearm, and pulled. He must not have been ready, because it was harder this time, but she got him up. Rob sat closer now with nothing between them. His legs pressed firm against hers, arms circling her waist instead of grabbing her shoulders. He must have really been worried about falling off last time.

They moved off at an easy walk, the evening air cooler now, carrying the dry scent of leaves. The bucket knocked lightly against her shins with each step, but she didn't mind. Not with Rob behind her, close enough she could feel the warmth of him through her shirt.

For a while, neither of them spoke; the only sounds were the cows, the rhythm of Cricket's hooves, and the quiet weight of his arms around her.

Losing wasn't always bad, but she didn't like it.

[Sieming]

4. Like Magnets

Tom Montgomery stood on stage, microphone in hand. Rob knew Tom's voice could carry even without it—sharp, clear, and easy in front of a crowd. "Alright, folks, time for the costume contest results. Third place goes to—drum roll, please—Kara, our very own little black cat. Tail and all."

Scattered applause followed. Kara, ears askew, blushed from the back of the room and climbed onto the stage. Maybe she'd like to dance later, Rob thought. It would be nice to dance with a girl shorter than he was. It was a shame he had to ask girls two years younger to find one, but everyone knew girls matured earlier than boys.

"Second place," Tom continued, "goes to, um, my brother Don. He turned a burlap sack into... a scarecrow? A scare-something, anyway. Remember, folks, I'm just the announcer. Talk to the judges. I think we can all agree he's scary." Don bowed deeply, straw fluttering from his cuffs.

Tom straightened, grinning. "And for first place—well, we have a three-way tie: Rachel, Rebecca, and Rob. Superman, Clark Kent, and Jimmy Olsen."

The hall erupted. The Klein twins strode forward, their hair darkened and somehow styled short. One wore tights, a cape, and some boy's underwear dyed red. The other was in a suit and tie, glasses, and held a notepad. Rob was pretty sure he was the only one who could tell them apart in those costumes. He adjusted his tie and camera strap and waited.

They bounded onto the stage, their long legs taking the stairs in strides. Nine, maybe ten inches taller than him, both athletes—either one could have been Superman without breaking a sweat. Rob followed more slowly, dropping to one knee at center stage in Jimmy Olsen style and raising his camera. The crowd laughed and clapped as Tom handed over paper certificates and a bag of something.

The Klein girls took the bag and held it up between them like a trophy, matching grins on their faces. Rob snapped their picture for real, flash popping. He stayed crouched while they waved, happy enough to let them take the spotlight.

When the applause finally died down, all three stepped down together. "Thanks, Jimmy," Rebecca said, patting his head. Rachel draped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. "Best idea ever."

Tom's voice cut in from the stage. "One last thing before we wrap up, folks—the last dance." Half the kids were pretending not to care, and the other half were scanning the room for that special someone.

Kara stood against the wall, fiddling with her cat ears. Rob stepped up before anyone else could. "Dance?" He felt pretty confident; he got along well with everyone in Jenny's class.

Her eyes widened, then softened. "Sure."

The music shifted into something slower. Rob led her onto the floor, sliding one hand to her waist. He could feel her stiffness. He gave her a smile and an easy spin. She loosened, even laughed once when he dipped her low enough that her tail brushed the floor. That's when he noticed Mel was right. Kara might be short, but she wasn't exactly small anymore—not everywhere.

"Didn't know you could dance," she said as they swayed back into rhythm.

"I studied my part. Jimmy Olsen was a great dancer."

She shook her head but leaned closer, more relaxed now.

Rob kept the steps simple, steady. Jenny had insisted they practice dancing, and it really had been a good idea. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught flashes of the rest of the floor—Jenny dancing with Steve, both grinning; he couldn't tell who was leading. Don was with Mel, his scarecrow sleeves brushing against her glittering dress. They looked... older. More like a real couple than kids at a party. He wouldn't mind dancing with Mel, but worried how he would look dancing with a girl six inches taller than he was.

The music carried them until the song wound down. The lights came up a notch as Tom thanked everyone again. People started peeling off the dance floor and heading toward the food tables—some headed for the doors. Rob found himself drifting toward Jenny and Mel near the exit.

They all spilled out into the cool parking lot in a loose knot, as laughter, paper cups, and the last of the music leaked out the doors. Rob climbed into the driver's side of the old pickup. Mel reached the passenger side first and slid in. Jenny came around behind her and hip-checked Mel further onto the bench.

Mel gave her a look, and Jenny blinked innocently, tugging the door shut and scooting next to Mel. Rob turned the key. The engine caught with its usual cough. He rested his palm on the shifter, glanced down to make sure he was in first, and noticed Mel's thighs next to his.

Mel shouldered Rob and smiled. "Way to claim the trophy."

"Yeah," Jenny added, "great idea! Who came up with it?"

Rob smiled at her. "You did."

Jenny frowned. "What? No, I didn't."

"You did," he said, checking his mirror. "I said that I was thinking of going as Clark Kent, and you said that Rebecca could be my Superman."

Mel snorted. "Except she's a head taller than you."

"Exactly," Rob said, flicking the turn signal. "So: Rebecca as Superman, Rachel as Clark. Same height. Same, well, everything."

Jenny leaned back, pleased. "Of course. And you got to lug your camera around all night."

"Worked out," he said.

They rolled through the gravel and out onto the county road. Mel crossed her legs, sequins on her dress catching stray light from the dash. Rob reached for second, his forearm skimming the top of her thigh.

"Sorry."

"No worries, Champ," Mel said; she didn't move her leg.

Jenny's voice came from the far side of Mel. "Anyway, nice job up there. You three looked great."

"Thanks." He found third, every shift reminding him of Mel's legs, then fourth, the engine settling into its normal hum. The road slid by—dark fields, darker trees. Every time he reached for the shifter, he saw her leg: the round outside of her quad where it met the knee, the way the muscle had that heavy, easy fullness sprinters had. Bigger than his. No question.

He wished he was catching up faster.

"How'd you two land on Gilligan and Ginger?" Rob asked, hoping to get his mind off of Mel's legs.

"At first, we wanted to match," Jenny said.

"But everything we tried turned out... different with these." Mel sat back a little taller, making her point. "I could be a slutty nurse, a slutty witch, a slutty teacher, a slutty nun, a slutty ghost, a slutty gunnysack..."

Jenny laughed. "At some point, we decided to lean into it."

"Yeah," Mel said. "It's not looking like I'm going to be able to hide these things, and I don't even think they're done yet. People will just have to get used to them." She tugged at her neckline once. "It didn't help that this bra doesn't really fit anymore."

"Just grab the next rank from the suitcase," Jenny teased.

"I wish," Mel said, grinning back. "This is the last one. I guess I could ask Joanie if she has any more when she comes home for Thanksgiving."

Rob missed a gear and found it again with a grind. How much bigger could they get? Mel looked down at the shifter, then up at him, eyebrow high.

"I know, right?" she said. "She was always the sexy librarian. What does that make me?"

"In need of a shopping trip," Jenny said.

Rob kept his eyes on the road. "Do you guys ever not talk about boobs?"

"We save all of our boob talk for when you're around," Mel said. "Adds spice."

"Yeah, and I didn't even bring up why I was Gilligan instead of Mary Ann."

He huffed, half a laugh, half a breath. Jenny wasn't shaped like Mary Ann, but she wasn't exactly shaped like Gilligan either. Maybe Gilligan with wider shoulders.

The cab settled again. Fence posts flicked by, regular as a metronome. He drove. The girls traded small talk about who'd spilled punch, who'd danced with whom. After a downshift, he set his heel and flexed his quad. Still a ways to go.

They turned onto Mel's drive. A few pumpkins, still lit, had low flames bobbing behind cut eyes. He rolled to the front of her place and put the truck in neutral.

"Thanks for the ride, Olsen. You can use the squat rack too if you want," Mel said as Jenny slid out. "Good night, Gilligan."

Jenny popped back in. "Night, Ginger."

Rob pulled the truck back into gear, not knowing what to say.

Jenny slid across into Mel's warm spot without being asked. Rob put it in first. They drove. The heater fan ticked. "Are you thinking about working out?"

"Maybe. Basketball season is coming up."

After a minute, Jenny said, not looking at him, "Does it bother you when we talk about our boobs?"

"Not exactly bother," he said. "It's just... when you talk about them, I think about them, and it's hard not to look at them."

"Well," she said, still watching the window, "I don't think Mel minds if you look, and you don't have to worry about that with me."

He glanced over. Her face didn't give anything away—only the reflection of the dash in her eyes.

They turned onto their lane. The gravel led up to the farmhouse, and the porch lights drew them in. He parked by the steps and killed the engine.

On the porch, Dad stepped out with an armful of split wood. "Hey, you two," he called. "Think you can grab the last wheelbarrow and roll it in? Save me a trip."

"Sure," Rob said.

He set his camera on the railing. Jenny tugged her Gilligan cap free and plopped it on the camera like a cozy. Rob snorted and hopped down off the porch. Gravel shifted under his shoes. Jenny thumped down beside him, matching his stride. It wasn't long ago that she'd have had to stretch her legs to do that.

"Hey," she said as they cut toward the woodpile. "How'd they decide who was Superman and who was Clark?"

"They arm-wrestled." They asked if he wanted to take the winner, but he wasn't sure he could take the loser.

They rounded the shed. The wheelbarrow sat by the pile, mounded full, more than full. Rob grabbed the handles and lifted. It came off the ground with a grunt, but back down again a moment later. Jenny slipped in front of him as he shook out his arms and grabbed the handles with him.

"On three," he said.

"On three," she echoed.

They made it about halfway before Jenny's shoe slipped on a patch of wet leaves. She let out a sharp yelp and stumbled, the wheelbarrow wobbling dangerously on the slope.

"Crap!" Rob barked, muscles straining as the load, which suddenly seemed much heavier, tipped.

His arms screamed as the wheelbarrow tilted, the weight threatening to jerk the handles from his grip. He shouldn't have held it, but somehow he muscled it to the ground instead of onto Jenny. His pulse hammered, half from the effort, half from the shock that he'd actually managed it. He couldn't have done that last month. But he couldn't have lifted it at all without Jenny.

"Holy cow, are you okay?" he asked, leaning over her.

She sat in the cold, wet grass, a smear of mud on her cheek and a frown pulling at her mouth.

"Yeah," she muttered.

Rob reached out, feeling her leg below the knee, then sliding his hand down to her ankle. He checked it as he'd seen his dad do when Steve got clipped hard playing backyard football. Nothing felt wrong. His hand squeezed her calf through the damp denim. It felt solid, firmer than he'd have guessed. He squeezed again, a little harder.

"You good?" he asked.

Jenny nodded, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "Just slipped."

"Cool." He stood, brushing his hands off on his jeans. He glanced at the wheelbarrow. "Dang. Didn't think I'd be able to set that down without dumping it on you."

Jenny followed his gaze, looking skeptical as well. They stood there for a breath, both looking at the settled wheelbarrow. His hands shook; hers were muddy.

They finished the job without much conversation. Rob remembered how the wheelbarrow felt different with Jenny helping—easier, steadier. And he remembered how her calf felt under his hand. He tried not to dwell on it.

When they finally went upstairs to bed, all Rob said was, "Some Halloween, huh?"

"Some Halloween," Jenny echoed from behind her door. She didn't close it.

— — —

Rob couldn't sleep. He flipped on his lamp, propped himself up on one elbow, and reached between his mattresses. His fingers found the familiar, battered cover and pulled out the old notebook. On the front, in thick, fading marker, were the uneven, blocky words:

THE BOOK OF CHALLENGES

He smirked. It was a dumb name. He'd written it in sixth grade, when his biggest challenge was hanging from branches without falling into The Pond. He'd like to think they were more sophisticated now. "Run a hay crew" and "Make the basketball team" were two recent entries.

He thought about everything that had happened that day and wrote down, "Workout more consistently." Not much of a challenge. He added, "Dance with Rachel," then, before he knew what he was writing, "Have quads like Mel." He thought about erasing it, but didn't. He didn't fall asleep for a long time.

— — —

Jenny lay on her back and watched the fan push slow air around her room. The house had gone quiet in that way it only did after big nights.

Random parts of the night kept sneaking up on her. She idly wondered which twin had won at arm-wrestling. Rebecca as Superman made the most sense—she'd take the win and the spotlight, just like on the court. But would Rachel have chosen Clark just to be closer to Jimmy?

Who did he root for? He'd never say. He'd set it up so no one lost. That was very Rob—make a plan where everybody got the thing they wanted and pretend it wasn't a plan.

I guess it made sense that Rob asked Kara to dance the last dance. Kara was the only girl shorter than Rob, at least the only one who fit that dumb "half your age plus seven" rule, if that rule was even real. Jenny snorted into the blanket—technically she was shorter than Rob too, but not by much. He did dance well.

She wished she knew what had possessed her to slide Mel right into him. It felt like pushing two strong magnets closer just to see when they'd click. Then she'd brought up boobs like it was a weather report. She wasn't exactly jealous of Mel. She didn't think she could handle the attention they generated. But a little attention would be nice.

Her mind kept circling back to the wheelbarrow. He needed her help to get started, but when push came to shove, he landed it on his own. Would he have even tried if it wasn't going to spill on top of her?

She hadn't expected him to be able to land it by himself. That thing was heavy. The way it tilted had felt inevitable. When he'd gotten it down without dumping it on her, she'd been surprised. She hadn't realized how much stronger he'd become—he was stronger than he looked, and she liked that.

And she liked the feel of his hand on her leg. He must have noticed that she was getting stronger too.

As she drifted off to sleep, she had one final thought: He hadn't squeezed Mel's leg.