"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.

[Sieming]

5. Happy Thanksgiving

Mel dipped into another squat, thighs burning, bar balanced across her shoulders, breath hissing out between clenched teeth. She rose again, back straight, then tried to hit depth on the last rep. As she started to rise, the door to her room opened.

"Joanie!" Mel shouted. "Welcome home! Let me rack this," she added with a grin as she powered through the final rep. She set the bar on the rack with a loud metal clink and wiped sweat from her forehead with a towel.

Joanie stood in the doorway, suitcase in hand, staring first at the room, then up and down as Mel rushed toward her. Mel engulfed her older sister in a huge hug. It had been a long time since she'd hugged anyone like that.

"Sorry, I'm all sweaty," Mel said, pulling back. "How's college? Do you like your roommate? Do you have a boyfriend? Tell me everything." Joanie hadn't said anything at all. She still stood in the doorway, as if she'd just walked into the wrong house.

Joanie's gaze flicked down, then away, unreadable.

Mel pointed at the suitcase. "Oh—yeah. We, um... switched rooms."

She meant it lightly, like a funny reveal, but Joanie's knuckles were white on the handle.

"Come on, let me show you."

Mel bounced around the room, playing tour guide. She pointed out the medals lined up over her desk. "Track. Cleaned up at conference. Got third in the two hundred at districts." She tapped the Halloween photos thumbtacked along the corkboard—half goofy, half serious. "That's Jenny as Gilligan, and me as Ginger."

Joanie glanced at the photos, her mouth flat.

"And this—" Mel gave the squat rack a proud slap, the bar rattling in its hooks. "—is my birthday present. Oh, and I kept your bed. It's bigger, and sometimes Jenny stays over."

Joanie set the suitcase down with more force than necessary; the sound was sharp against the floor.

Mel grabbed the handle before Joanie could lift it again. "Here, I got it." It was lighter than she'd expected from the way Joanie had been holding it.

"I didn't even do squats the day I moved your books down to my old bedroom. Your library was quite a workout," Mel said, laughing as she carried Joanie's bag toward the stairs.

Joanie looked around the room before following Mel out the door.

They headed down the hallway together. "We could always put you in Maddie's old room," Mel offered, half-joking, "since she's never here anymore."

Joanie stopped. "That might be something you would want to run by Madison first."

Mel's smile faltered. "Yeah, of course." Then it hit her—she hadn't asked Joanie either. "I wasn't thinking. I figured you wouldn't have a use for your old room, now that you're a college girl. I really should have asked. Sorry."

Joanie didn't answer until they were in her new room. "It's fine. Just... weird seeing you in my room." Her gaze flicked up. "Your new height." It flicked down. "And all." Then she looked up again. "You've... grown up."

Mel looked down as well. "Yeah, I usually wear this old thing when I do squats. Once things settle down..." Mel gestured vaguely at her chest, "I'll get something that works better. I forgot what they look like in this thing."

The new room smelled of old books and new furniture polish. Joanie ran her hand over the bookshelves, admiring her old friends. "I guess rooms aren't the only things that change when you go away." Mel had done her best to set the room up for her sister. Books lined the shelves, though not apparently in an order Joanie approved of.

Mel put Joanie's suitcase on the bed next to an older one.

Joanie glanced at the worn suitcase. "Why didn't you move this?"

Mel shrugged. "There's nothing in there that fits me anymore."

The words hung in the air. Joanie's eyes lingered, then dropped away. Mel was getting used to that. She cleared her throat, trying to fill the silence with an overture. "Could you take me shopping sometime? For, you know... stuff that actually fits."

Joanie's shoulders lifted in the faintest shrug. "We'll see."

Mel grinned. "Thanks, Joanie." She gave her another hug before leaving her big sister alone with her thoughts.

— — —

On Thanksgiving Day, Mel nearly dragged Maddie up to her room. It was so nice to have her oldest sister back in the house, even if it was mostly for the holidays. "Come on, you gotta see it."

The squat rack filled the far side of the room like a throne. Maddie ducked under the bar easily, running her hand along the knurling, then set her feet. Maddie dipped low and rose smoothly, the motion so natural it looked like breathing. She went down again, deeper this time, then up in a single powerful drive—up for Maddie was a long way.

Mel's jaw dropped. "Maddie—you didn't even warm up."

Maddie racked the bar, grinning. For the first time in forever, she looked like her old self again, the six-two volleyball player who owned the net.

"Yeah, I'll feel that tomorrow if I keep it up," Maddie said. She gestured to the bar. "Alright, your turn. Let's see what you've got."

Mel hesitated, scratching the back of her neck. "Um... you were doing reps at my max. I'm gonna have to lower that a bit."

Maddie barked out a laugh, bright and sudden. "Fair enough. Start somewhere reasonable."

Mel adjusted the weights, metal clinking against metal. She ducked under the bar, settling it across her shoulders. Maddie stepped in close, tapping her little sister's foot to widen her stance, nudging Mel's knee with the side of her hand.

"Chest up. Drive through your heels. Think like you're blocking."

Mel sank down, then pushed back up with a shaky breath.

"Good," Maddie said, nodding.

Mel did more reps, trying to impress her impressive sister.

Afterward, they reset the bar, and Maddie leaned against the frame, watching. "So. Why squats?"

"Track," Mel said quickly. Then she added, "And, you know... balance. With all this," she waved vaguely at her chest, "I thought I'd try to get a butt like yours. See if it's genetic."

That earned another grin. "Smart kid. It's probably a little genetic, but it's also hard work. You know about hip thrusts?"

Mel shook her head.

Maddie grabbed a barbell plate and set it across her hips as she sat on the floor, shoulders propped against the bed. "Like this." She lowered her hips, then drove them up, glutes tight, holding the top for a beat before lowering again. "Best thing for a nice butt. It didn't hurt for volleyball either," she added with a wink.

Mel slid in beside her, mimicking the setup. Maddie adjusted the plate on Mel's hips, pressing her knee out with one hand. "Drive through. Don't arch. Squeeze at the top."

Mel followed, awkward at first, then steadier. Maddie did them alongside her. After a while, Mel began to feel it in her glutes. About that time, Maddie said, "That's it. Tough, but worth the effort." She slapped her butt at the top of a thrust to surprisingly little effect.

"Adding it to the workout," Mel said between breaths.

They did a few more reps in silence before Maddie asked, "So, what did Joanie say when she saw your new rack?"

Mel looked at the squat rack and was about to answer when she noticed where Maddie's gaze had landed.

"Oh." Her face flushed. "She didn't... really say anything. Mostly looked. You know Joanie. She knows all the words but likes to keep them to herself. Eventually, she said that it was a lot to take all at once. Switched rooms, taller little sister, and these."

Maddie pushed the plate a few more times. "Yeah, that's not great. I didn't take it well when she passed me, either. She was a little older than you. I went from tallest, biggest, hottest... to tallest."

Mel didn't know what to say, so she offered her safest thought. "She's going to help me shop for new bras."

Maddie blew out at the top. "I'm glad. But it's hard, Mel. Having the ground shift under you like that. Even when you love your sister. I'm sure Joanie will come around."

"So what did you do? When it happened to you?"

Maddie let out a humorless laugh. "I took too long coming around. I wasn't a good sister when she needed me. I owe the Sexy Librarian a long-overdue apology. I hope she does better by you."

They were thrusting in sync when Mel changed the topic. "I'm glad you came back."

"I should have done it sooner. I couldn't."

For a moment, it felt like the old days: Maddie coaching, talking about life, both of them laughing as they pushed through another rep.

Then Joanie walked in. "Melissa, Madison, Dad got called into the hospital. Mom says we'll have to start Thanksgiving dinner without him."

Madison froze, her grin slipping away as if it had never been there. She pushed herself up, brushing off her hands. "Guess that's that," she murmured, staring at the floor.

Mel sat there, the weight across her lap, her chest heaving. She wanted to ask for one more rep, one more tip, anything to keep Maddie present—but she understood. Any mention of the hospital cast a shadow across her sister's face.

She forced a smile anyway and stood, following them toward the stairs. The bright moment was gone. Happy Thanksgiving.

— — —

It was Saturday before Mom finally told Joanie to take her sister shopping. They ended up in the lingerie section, surrounded by racks of beige and black, pink and white. It smelled faintly of perfume from a not-too-distant counter.

Melissa clutched three hangers against her chest. "Can you come in? It'll be easier."

Joanie looked at her and thought for a moment. "If that's what you want, Melissa."

For Mel, it was like the locker room at school—no big deal. Joanie watched as the old bra came off and the new one went on. The new bra was tight, its straps digging into her shoulders. "Does this look right?"

"If it fits, then it's right. They just do what they're supposed to do."

Mel frowned at the mirror. "It feels like a vise. How do you even breathe in these things? Yours always felt more, I don't know? Lived in?"

"Want me to break that one in for you?" If it was a joke, Joanie wasn't smiling.

Joanie handed her the next one and put the vise-grips back on its hanger. Mel was unsuccessfully trying to wrestle the twins into position. Joanie moved around behind her and said, "When they're new, you have to, well, let me show you." She pulled them up and in, holding them for a moment before letting them settle into place. "I'll make my first million selling Joanna's Lived-in-Lingerie."

Mel watched in the mirror as Joanie did the same up-and-in movement with her own breasts—including the little squeeze.

Mel tried another, dropping them into place without as much effort. The cups were fuller, lifting her reflection in a way that surprised her. "What about this one? Do you think it makes me look too big?"

Joanie gave an appraising look. "That's not the bra's fault. When did all this happen anyway?"

"It kind of happened fast. You left, then—boom. By Christmas, I'd caught Maddie. By spring, I was... Mom-ish." Mel leaned against the mirror. "Do they stop growing at some point? Because... I always wanted to be as big as my Sexy Librarian sister. Now I think I might be—" She cut herself off.

"Oh, you are," Joanie said, her voice quieter. "And no. They stop when they stop. I never wanted to overtake the Ridiculously Hot Volleyball Player." Joanie shrugged.

Mel turned sideways, studying her profile. "How do you keep guys from staring all the time?"

"You don't," Joanie muttered. "You pretend you don't notice." Then, quieter, "You try to blend in."

Mel laughed nervously, adjusting the strap. She wasn't sure she wanted to blend in. "Okay, so... this one? Or one of the other ones? Try on some more?"

Joanie pointed without looking up as she left the changing room. "That one. It actually fits. Get it in a couple of boring colors too. You'll need them."

Mel changed back into Joanie's old bra. She was fumbling with her shirt when she heard voices outside the curtain.

"...Joanie? Hey, I didn't know you were back." A guy's voice.

"Just for break," Joanie said, her tone clipped.

Mel peeked through the crack as she buttoned her shirt. Joanie kept talking to the guy, and he handed her a folded piece of paper. He said something Mel couldn't catch, then walked off.

Joanie crumpled the paper in one hand and shoved it in her pocket.

Mel stepped out a moment later.

They walked out of the mall with a not-as-small-as-you'd-think shopping bag between them. Mel swung it by the handles, buoyant. She had her first new bras, she had her sister's advice, and she felt older.

Joanie didn't say anything and kept her hand in her pocket.

[Sieming]

6. Chasing Tara

The pool deck smelled like chlorine and wet cement, and the muffled roar of voices bouncing off the high rafters of the old natatorium made Jenny feel at home. She tugged her swim cap into place, water droplets clinging to her arms and shoulders. Her pulse thudded in her ears. The air was thick with humidity and the sharp, comforting scent of chemicals.

In the stands, she spotted her mom first, bundled in the ancient fleece jacket she always wore to meets—the one with frayed cuffs and a faded school logo. Dad was next to her, leaning on the rail like a fence post. Rob and his best friend Steve sat below them. When Jenny caught his eye, Rob grinned and gave her a double fist pump, his expression bright with enthusiasm. She smiled despite herself, a genuine warmth spreading through her chest as she felt their support.

Beside her, Melissa handed Jenny's goggles back with a sigh. "If these fog up again, you'll have to get a new pair. The rubber straps are just too stretched."

Jenny adjusted the goggles to fit snugly against her face and hoped for the best.

Mel smiled. "Back when I was swimming, I never had to worry about anyone else." She gave a short, nostalgic laugh. "I can't believe how much slower these personal flotation devices make me."

Jenny rolled her eyes. Yes, Mel's boobs had slowed her down a noticeable amount, but Mel didn't exactly seem keen to give them up, and Jenny wouldn't mind a little more drag herself. "Do you miss it?"

"Every meet," Mel said. "But cross country's not bad. No freezing pool water. No wrinkled fingertips. And I'm sure the stamina I'm building will help with track. Besides, I was never that good at swimming." She winked, lightening the mood.

Jenny barked a laugh, grateful for the distraction. She liked meets, but there was always that jittery, electric feeling before a race, like static electricity building under her skin. The anticipation was almost as exhausting as the swimming itself. The opening rounds weren't like that, but finals always were.

"Finals, 100 free—get ready," Coach Anders called, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife.

Jenny dropped into the water. Even though she knew it was coming, the cold clenched her with an immediate intensity that made her gasp. She practiced a hard kick off the wall, slicing clean. Her arms moved easily and precisely through the water. Lately, swimming felt... sharper. She noticed how strong her kicks felt, how her strokes didn't burn the way they used to near the end of a race. Her body felt capable, responding to her will more strongly than it had even a few months ago. Those months of chores and riding had built muscles she was beginning to appreciate.

When she pulled herself onto the deck, shaking off water in silvery droplets that caught the fluorescent lights, she saw her neighbor in lane three.

Of course, it was Tara.

Tara towered over her by a good eight inches—over all of them, in fact. Two years older, she looked a decade more mature. Her dark green Oakview team jacket announced her as the competition. The announcement was unnecessary.

Jenny's stomach gave a slow, tight flip. It wasn't nerves—not exactly. It was a complex mixture: awe, intimidation, fascination. Tara peeled off her jacket and set it aside with the deliberate confidence of someone who knew they were being watched. Her shoulders were broader than Jenny's, broader than any other girl's on the deck. Broader than some of the guys, for that matter. And her upper back looked carved from stone. When she stretched, arms extended above her head, Jenny couldn't help but follow the impossible muscle definition. Thick bands shifted under her skin like steel cables. An elite athlete. Solid. Powerful. The kind of strength that shouted countless hours in the pool, and probably in a weight room. If she weren't so unmistakably feminine, she would have looked at home racing with the guys.

The entire deck seemed to lean toward her. Tara wasn't racing to win; she was breaking records. Everyone else was competing for second place. Jenny pictured herself in Tara's place. Was that what she wanted? That path suddenly seemed both thrilling and terrifying. She glanced into the stands. Rob was staring intently in her direction.

Melissa sidled up beside her, clipboard tucked under one arm, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's a beast. I swam against her in my final race—she broke the pool record. Her kick is like a motor, and her turns are absolutely flawless." There was a note of professional admiration in Mel's voice despite their rivalry.

Jenny swallowed, one corner of her mouth twitching upward in determination. "Good. I like a chase."

Melissa rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. "You're nuts. Completely, certifiably nuts. But that's why I like you. Anyway, you're in the lane next to her, so your time must have been good in the preliminaries."

"Heat three to the blocks!"

Jenny bounced on her toes, shaking out her arms, the familiar tension coiling in her muscles. She wondered how much tension Tara could pack in her arms, and she could feel Rob's eyes on her from the stands, steady and focused. Somewhere behind that, Mom's encouraging voice cut through the clatter of swimmers and spectators alike. "You've got this, Jenny!" she called, the words somehow clear. Jenny took her position, crouching low on the block, fingertips curled around the edge, the rough texture grounding her.

Whistle.

Set.

BEEP.

She exploded off the block, slicing cleanly through the water. The cold shock gave way to the burning rhythm of her strokes. Tara surged ahead early—her flawless form evident.

Stroke and kick. Stroke and kick.

Jenny glimpsed Tara's turn, her powerful kick churning the lane into white foam, her muscular arms pulling powerfully and efficiently. Stroke for stroke, Jenny tried to match her, feeling a fluid strength she hadn't possessed before. Hours of chores, riding, and extra laps were paying off. Her suit tugged at her shoulders with every stroke, the fabric straining over muscles now firmer than before.

Flip. Push off. Not her best, she knew instantly. Her feet hit the wall a split second off-angle, costing her precious momentum as she surged forward into the final leg. Keep going.

Stroke and kick. Stroke and kick.

Jenny kept her head down, counting strokes instead of tracking Tara. Her legs burned with a familiar fire; every kick squeezed more from muscles already spent. Water lashed past her ears, a muffled roar. Only her ragged breaths when she turned her head and the thud of her heart broke through. She lunged forward with everything left, fingers stretching, clawing for the wall. She touched second, four seconds behind Tara. Still, it was progress. The older girl checked the clock and exhaled sharply. Droplets sprayed as she flung water from her hair.

Jenny pulled off her cap, blinked chlorine from her eyes and pushed wet hair from her face, already analyzing her performance in her head—the turn that could have been better, the last few strokes could have been stronger.

Coach Anders clapped Jenny's shoulder as she climbed out, his big hand warm on her cool skin. "That was your best time yet. Nice work. Nearly a second closer than last time." His voice held genuine approval, and Jenny felt a surge of pride warm her despite her cooling skin.

She flicked a glance at the stands. Rob was on his feet, clapping hard, his expression bright with enthusiasm. He grinned down at her, then flicked his gaze to Tara, who was pressing herself out of the pool with that confident ease of someone who knew they were the best.

Jenny recognized that look on Rob's face—the photographer's eye, the assessment. She didn't care—not really, she told herself—as he watched Tara's powerful form.

Only Tara had beaten her. And she couldn't wait to race her again.

— — —

It was a week after the meet, and this afternoon's swim practice was finally over, the sharp scent of chlorine clinging to damp hair and swimsuits. Jenny tugged her sweatshirt over her head, skin still cool from practice, as she stepped out of the locker room.

Melissa leaned against the vending machine, legs crossed interestingly at the ankle, digging for a quarter when Jenny came up. The machine hummed faintly, its fluorescent light casting a glow across her face as she struggled with the coin slot.

"Cross country got out early, and I saw the end of your practice. You were flying on that last lap," Mel said, finally getting the quarter to drop with a metallic clunk. "Seriously, you're getting scary fast. Coach looked impressed."

Jenny grinned, liking how fast she was getting. She could feel the burn in her arms from practice, the good kind that reminded her how much she'd improved. "Thanks. How was practice?"

Melissa smirked, tapping the vending machine glass as if willing it to hurry. "Great. My secret weapons aren't such a liability in the open air." She made a show of miming the old chest exercises, chanting, "We must, we must, we must increase our bust. The bigger, the better, the tighter the sweater. The boys are depending on us."

Jenny snorted, her laugh echoing in the hallway. "Oh my god, Mel. I haven't heard that in years. Please tell me you don't actually do that anymore. And they're not exactly 'secret' weapons." Jenny looked toward the door where Rob waited with their backpacks. He had definitely witnessed Melissa's performance; his head had snapped toward them when the ancient chant began. Jenny saw a flush creep up his neck before he quickly looked away. She knew exactly what he was thinking—one of them didn't need those exercises anymore. They were both wearing the same sweatshirt, but Melissa filled it out more like a mom than a classmate.

She was still Jenny. Solid, with swimmer's muscles developing across her shoulders and back, but nothing developing across her front. No point comparing. Maybe those exercises weren't such a bad idea after all.

Melissa dropped her hands, clearly pleased with his reaction. "What, Rob? Never heard the classics? That was practically the rock anthem of sleepovers. And no, Jenny, I do not."

Jenny watched Rob roll his eyes, shifting their backpacks to his other shoulder. He was trying not to stare, but it was hard not to, with Mel completely unselfconscious about how her body filled out, well, everything. She must have really gotten to him; Rob usually wasn't so obvious.

They headed out to the hallway together, the cold air a slap after the muggy pool. They all but gasped as it hit their damp skin. As they passed the front desk, Rob's gaze landed on a small, rusty cast-iron dumbbell, probably ten or fifteen pounds, propping open a door—living out its last days as a doorstop. He picked it up, tested its weight in his palm, and curled it a few times. Jenny wondered if he felt that familiar burn in his bicep as his muscles contracted.

She watched Mel pause mid-step, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. Amusement then danced across her features as she let out a low whistle. "Look at you, Muscle Man." She leaned against the doorway, watching with genuine interest. He wasn't exactly unimpressive; the definition in his thin arm was more pronounced than Jenny remembered, and Rob was always so earnest about his workouts—when he remembered to do them.

Jenny snickered, playfully jabbing Rob in the ribs. "He wishes." She worried that Mel's jab had hit a little too close to home.

Mel grinned, turning her full attention to Jenny, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I bet you could take him." Then Mel shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her chest as she considered the two of them.

Jenny's eyes narrowed as she wondered what Mel was doing. "At swimming?" she guessed. She was sure she could beat Rob swimming.

"Wrestling," Melissa said, completely casually, as if discussing the weather. "You're scrappy on the starting block—all that explosive power. I bet you're stronger than you look." She tilted her head, studying Jenny's swimmer's shoulders with an appraising eye that made Jenny suddenly self-conscious.

"Yeah, right," Rob scoffed, setting the dumbbell back down with a loud clang that echoed in the empty lobby. But Jenny could tell that he was thinking about it. Was he thinking about how she was putting up more of a fight lately, how much longer it was taking to pin her, or how she was catching up to Tara? Surely he wasn't actually worried—that would be so cool.

Jenny felt something spark under her ribs, a mixture of defiance and curiosity. Had Rob told Melissa about their basement matches? The way they'd been testing each other's strength lately? Mel could hurt Rob's feelings if she wasn't careful, poking at his insecurities about his size. She opened her mouth to deflect, to change the subject, but Melissa was already moving on.

"Well, if you two throw down, I wanna watch." She tossed a grin over her shoulder, sauntering toward Rob's truck with a confidence that seemed to fill the space around her.

Rob huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he went to the driver's side. "You're so weird." His breath fogged in the cold air as he spoke. Then he stuffed his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out the keys.

But Jenny wasn't laughing. Her mind snagged on the comment. She didn't think Melissa really meant it—just Mel being Mel—but Jenny got in the truck first this time.

[Sieming]

7. Truth or Dare 1.0

The flashlight passed from Rob's hand to Jenny's. That's how the game worked—how it had always worked, as far as Rob knew. Mel and Jenny had been playing for a while now. It was only in the last year that they had included him. Mel said it was getting boring with just the two of them. He couldn't see it.

Jenny spun the light idly in her hand, then looked at Mel. "Same question. What do you want for Christmas?"

Mel shifted on her bed. "New bras," she said, her voice softer than usual. Rob found that a little hard to believe, and Jenny's next words summed up his thoughts as well.

"Again?" Jenny asked, sounding almost exasperated. Mel had long ago left Jenny behind. Now it seemed to be a question of how far behind Jenny was and if she would ever catch up. There didn't seem to be much fairness in the universe, at least when it came to who the boob fairy tapped with her magic wand.

Mel shrugged and lowered her blanket. Rob thought that this was probably a safe time to look. Looking was a game that he certainly didn't know all of the rules for, and Mel was watching him intently. The rules to Mel's games were even harder to understand than most, and he quickly learned that not all girls' rules were the same.

They were definitely bigger, not that he was keeping track. Jenny and all of her friends were growing up. Mel was just way ahead. Usually, she seemed happier about it.

Mel took the flashlight from Jenny. "Your turn. Same question."

Jenny leaned forward, her wavy red hair covering her face as if she was embarrassed about what she was about to say. "A rack like Mel's."

Rob nearly choked. Mel's eyebrows went up, but she was otherwise composed. For a split second, everyone froze. Rob's mind was scrambling as he tried to process Jenny's response. Did she really—

Jenny's eyes moved past him. Rob followed her gaze and saw what she was looking at: Mel's squat rack on the other side of the room, half-hidden in the dim comfort of the Christmas lights.

Mel recovered first. "Ah, my other equipment."

Rob looked down at the outline of Mel's legs under the blanket and forced a laugh. Still, the notion that Jenny wanted legs like Mel was interesting. No, that wasn't quite it. Jenny wanted the equipment that she could use to work toward a goal. That seemed different.

Jenny passed the flashlight to Rob, the metal cool against his palm, and he didn't waste time. He aimed the beam at Mel; he'd been planning this for a while. "Mel," he said, a grin spreading across his face, "dare."

She leaned back against her pillows, propped up on her elbows like she'd been expecting to be next. "Alright. Hit me."

"Tell Jenny something that'll embarrass her." He was picturing something good, something he could use later.

Jenny made a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Oh, come on," she protested, but there was a smile in her voice. She knew Mel too well; this was going to be good.

Mel's gaze drifted from Rob to Jenny and back. Something unreadable flickered in her expression. Rob grew more eager as she leaned forward—but she didn't look at him. She turned to Jenny, hair falling over her shoulder, and cupped her hand between them. Their foreheads nearly touched as she whispered something into Jenny's ear.

Rob couldn't hear the words, but the effect was instant. Jenny's eyes went wide. Her face turned pink, a blush starting at her collarbones and crawling up to her ears. She looked completely blindsided.

"Hey—" Rob sat up straighter, leaning away from the headboard. "No fair. I said, 'Tell her.'"

Mel settled back into her pillows, looking impossibly smug. "And I did."

"Out loud!" Rob insisted, his voice pitching higher with frustration. He felt cheated. That was not how this was supposed to work.

She shook her head, grin widening. "If it were a Truth, sure. Protocol. But you said Dare. You didn't specify volume." She stretched out under the blankets, legs crossing at the ankles, looking perfectly at ease after the chaos she created.

Jenny was still frozen. Her lips moved like she was trying to say something and failing, her usual quick wit completely gone. Rob leaned in, trying to catch her eye. "Well? What did she—"

Jenny finally managed to croak out a single word. "How?" Her voice cracked on the single syllable. She cleared her throat and tried again, her voice still weak. "How do you even know that?" The question hung in the air.

Mel's smile widened, showing all her teeth. "A magician never reveals her secrets." She punctuated the statement with a little shrug.

Jenny buried her face in her hands, a muffled groan escaping from behind her fingers. She was a solid wall of mortification. Rob flopped back against the headboard. "This game is rigged," he grumbled, already plotting his revenge.

Mel only laughed. "You just have to learn how to play it better," she said, reaching for the flashlight and tipping it toward him. "Truth, Rob. Which girl did you ogle last?" Her voice had that familiar teasing edge, suggesting she already suspected the answer.

"I don't ogle," he said quickly—too quickly—his ears already burning. He tried to keep his face neutral, knowing how Mel loved to poke at his reactions.

Two pillows hit him at once; he threw his hands up too late. "Hey!"

Jenny smirked from her spot on the bed, chin propped on her hands. "Sure you don't."

Mel leaned forward, narrowing her eyes, and pointed the flashlight at his chest like she was interrogating him. The light made his shirt glow. "Actually, he sort of has a point. He doesn't really ogle—I've become a bit of an expert on ogling—and he looks a lot less than most guys. That's why I asked." She tilted her head, still studying him. "Of all the straight guys, he's the least distractible. I'd like to withdraw the question."

Rob's eyes narrowed. Of all the straight guys? What?

Jenny assumed a more formal tone. "Duly noted, but protocol demands that you still ask Rob for a truth."

Mel thought for a moment. "Which girl's body did you notice last?"

Jenny folded her arms, eyebrows raised. "Oh, come on. Counting when you practically begged him to 'notice' your boobs? 'All I want for Christmas are bigger bras.'" Her eyes darted between them, clearly enjoying the chance to get the better of Mel.

Mel's grin faltered. "Um... that's not what I said, and let's pretend that didn't happen." She shifted on the bed, the blankets rustling around her.

Rob shrugged, enjoying the rare occasion when he wasn't the one on the spot. "That's not going to be easy." He settled back against the headboard and looked up at the ceiling while scratching his chin, the very picture of someone lost in a memory—at least that's what he was going for. Besides, it wasn't a bad memory to get lost in.

Mel gave him a look that was almost apologetic. Almost. "For the purposes of this truth, pretend it didn't happen."

The room went quiet. Rob searched for the safe line between honesty and self-preservation. The truth? He'd noticed three. The taller one, who made Jenny look almost delicate in comparison. The one who made it impossible not to notice, especially lately. And the one he couldn't say.

Two out of three was close enough.

"At the swim meet," he said finally, his voice lower than he intended. "Two girls." He left it there, vague and incomplete, hoping it would satisfy Mel.

Jenny's head snapped up, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Which two?" She leaned forward, forgetting her earlier embarrassment, her competitive nature flaring to life.

Rob shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Not saying any more." He could feel their eyes on him, one curious, one calculating.

"Hey, that's not—" Jenny started, but Mel cut her off, a small smile tugging back onto her face as she considered his answer.

"My question, Jenny, and I'm satisfied." She flicked the flashlight off and leaned back again, smugness restored. "Your turn, Rob."

He'd been wondering for weeks but hadn't dared ask. Tonight, he did. "Truth, Mel. How much can you squat?"

Mel's lips curved into a mischievous grin as she sat up taller, the blankets pooling around her waist. "Numbers are boring," she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Let's find out." Having turned Rob's truth into something more like a dare, she continued, "Who wants to spot?"

Rob's reaction was a confusing mix of impulses. Part of him wanted to simply watch, to see Mel demonstrate her strength, to witness those legs in action. But another part was intrigued by the idea of helping her, of being the one to support the bar if she faltered. The intimacy of the position hovered in his mind before he could form the words.

Jenny was already sliding off the bed. "I'll spot," she said, her voice light. There was something proprietary in the way she claimed the position.

They moved past Mel's impressive closet to the side of the room where Mel's squat rack stood like a metallic shrine to her lower body. The steel bar gleamed in the dim light. Gym mats lay beneath. Mel moved with efficiency, unloading plates with distinct clinks. She warmed up with the empty bar, her movements both fluid and exact.

Once she was warmed up, Rob was pleased to note that he didn't have any trouble helping load the bar. Mel's arms didn't look anything like her legs, but she did load and unload that bar every day. If Jenny was having any trouble lifting the plates, she wasn't letting on.

"Alright," Mel said, stepping under the bar now loaded with close to her previous best. It looked like a lot of weight. Jenny positioned herself behind Mel.

Down and slowly up again.

In bed, they had seemed thick. You could tell that Mel was anything but a waif—even under the blanket. But now, under load? Rob could see the individual muscles tense and flex under the soft curve of her skin. He wondered what they would feel like.

Without pausing, Mel slid another plate onto each side of the bar. "Let's see," she murmured, definitely not answering his question.

She positioned herself again, took a deep breath, and descended. This time, the struggle was visible in the tightening of her jaw, the slight strain in her neck. But she rose again, straightening with a triumphant exhale. "New PR," she announced, a proud smile breaking through her concentration.

Rob wondered what her squats looked like from the back, but couldn't think of a plausible reason to move to the other side—besides, the show from here was fine.

She added more weight to the bar—ten more pounds on each side. Mel's descent looked smooth. But on the way up, she stalled, her legs shaking with effort. "Come on, Mel," Jenny encouraged, her hands hovering just beneath the bar. Mel pushed another inch up before the weight began to win. "Got it," Jenny said, her fingers finding purchase on the cold metal as she helped guide the bar back into the rack.

He'd done a few squats in PE, and he wasn't even close to this. Girls normally had strong lower bodies. He'd always heard that.

Feeling bold, Jenny positioned herself under the same bar. "Let me try." She unracked the weight with effort, her legs trembling immediately. She tried to sink into a squat but couldn't get more than a few inches down before the weight became too much. "Nope," she grunted, face flushing with effort. It took Mel on one end of the bar and Rob on the other to rerack it.

Jenny looked thoughtful. Man, Mel's legs were something.

Mel wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist. "Your turn, Rob?"

Rob ogled her legs and held up his hands, shaking his head. "Politely declining," he said, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I prefer to maintain my dignity tonight." But he was already planning on adding lunges to his workouts.

A little later, when Rob again had the flashlight, he tilted it toward Jenny, and the cone of light slid up the blanket until it caught her face. "Truth," he said. "Would you want to switch bodies with Mel for a day?"

Jenny blinked. Rob watched her eyes drift toward Mel's chest, the swell of her breasts visible even beneath the blanket. Jenny's looking seemed different, even to Rob—familiar, curious, somehow different from his own curiosity.

Jenny tilted her head, considering, her gaze still tracing Mel's silhouette. "Do I get her wardrobe?" she asked first, her voice light, skimming the surface of the question like a stone across water.

He looked at Mel for guidance. "Of course, it's a package deal," Mel supplied.

Jenny's playful expression faltered slightly, something genuine breaking through. "I just... I really do want to know what it's like," she admitted, her voice lower now, "to actually have something up there." She hesitated, pulling her pillow close to her chest. "Like, are they heavy? Do they get in the way when you run? Does it feel... different? I feel like they're a club I'm not in, and everyone else knows the secret handshake." Her eyes darted to Rob for a split second, a flash of vulnerability in her gaze. "Even Kara, that tiny little thing, has more than me." A small sigh escaped her lips. Rob remembered Kara's small hand in his when they danced, her quick laugh when he dipped her. Jenny wasn't wrong.

The air in the room shifted; the playful teasing had somehow evolved into something real and raw. Rob listened, the smirk on his face melting away. He'd never considered it from that angle. He was too busy noticing all the changes to think about what it would feel like to stay the same while everyone around you doesn't. Well, he'd never considered it for Jenny.

After a moment of silence, Jenny shook her head. "No. I couldn't do it. Even with all that, I couldn't stand being the center of attention. Everyone watching them. All the looks... so little eye contact." She hugged the pillow tighter. "I don't know how you do it, Mel."

Mel's expression had softened some time ago, her smile edged with recognition. "Thank you. Finally, someone gets it." Then, before the air could get too heavy, she flopped back against her pillows and added lightly, "On the plus side, I haven't had to open a door for myself in six months."

Jenny snorted. The tension broke, but the seriousness lingered.

Jenny took the flashlight from his hand. "Truth, Rob," she said, her voice mild but clear in the dim room. "What are you most self-conscious about?" Rob couldn't pretend he didn't deserve the question.

He fidgeted, the weight of the question settling heavily, the faded cotton of his T-shirt suddenly feeling scratchy against his skin. For a moment, he considered deflecting with something trivial or making up an answer that would get a laugh. But as he looked at Jenny's patient face and Mel's curiously expectant eyes, he found himself wanting to be honest with them.

"Looking younger than I am," he said quietly, the admission hanging in the air between them. "Not just the short thing—everyone knows I'm the shortest guy, heck, the shortest person, in our class. It's like... like I haven't caught up to my own face yet. Or my voice. Or everything." He paused, swallowing hard.

Jenny's expression changed, her earlier teasing forgotten. She watched him with an intensity that made him want to look away, but he held her gaze and continued his confession.

"That's why I asked Kara to dance at the Halloween party," he added, the words coming out in a rush now that the dam had broken. "She was the only girl shorter than me who wasn't four years younger—at least the only one I wasn't related to." He flashed his little sister a smile he wasn't feeling before he continued. "It felt... less obvious."

Rob looked at Mel, who was listening with uncharacteristic seriousness, her usual playful expression replaced by something that looked almost like understanding. "And that's not even the worst part," he concluded, his voice dropping lower. "I didn't make the basketball team this year."

The confession hung in the air, heavy and vulnerable. Rob hadn't told anyone yet. Tryouts had been two weeks ago, and he'd practiced for months, waking early to shoot hoops before school. But when the list went up, his name hadn't been there. Coach had pulled him aside afterward, saying something about how his speed and defense were excellent.

Jenny slid across the bed, closing the space between them without hesitation. She took his hand, her fingers warm and steady around his, and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Yeah," she agreed, her voice filled with an empathy that caught him off guard. At first, Rob didn't understand. Then he realized that she had sort of said the same thing about Mel's body—wanting to catch up, to belong, to feel like she was growing at the same pace as everyone else around her.

Rob looked at their joined hands, then back at Jenny's face in the warm glow of the Christmas light. He squeezed her hand back, not trusting himself to say more.

Mel leaned over, rummaged a moment, then pulled out a magazine that looked like it had seen better days. The cover was bent, the edges curled, and the glossy print dulled by time. Jenny frowned. "What's that?"

"A way to make the game less serious after those last two rounds," Mel said smoothly, handing it to Jenny without ceremony. "Truth. Page thirty-five. Tell us what you think."

Jenny took it automatically, confusion knitting her brow as she examined the cover. The faded ink made the title difficult to read. "Not much of a dare," she muttered, flipping it open.

Rob, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, recognized it immediately despite the faded cover. He'd caught just enough of the title when Mel passed it over: Playgirl. His throat tightened.

Jenny licked her finger and flipped through several pages with increasing speed. Then she stopped dead, a small gasp escaping her lips. "I take it back."

She stared, mouth slightly open, eyes wide as if she'd just discovered a new species.

Mel propped herself on her elbows, that familiar mischief dancing in her eyes. "Well? Don't keep us waiting; tell us what you think."

Jenny shifted on the bed, her movements suddenly awkward, like she wasn't sure what to do with her limbs. "They're... good-looking." She tried to make it sound casual, as if she were critiquing a department-store mannequin.

Rob sat up straight, fighting to keep his expression neutral, looking at Mel. "Where'd you get that?"

"Found it tucked behind one of Joanie's bookcases when I switched rooms," Mel replied with an offhand shrug.

Jenny carefully turned the page, revealing a new spread. "Wow. It looks like they all work out. Like... a lot." Her voice had lost its joking edge, replaced by genuine curiosity.

Mel chuckled. "Pretty much the point."

Rob couldn't help himself. "Are they all... completely?"

Mel answered in a way that wasn't quite an answer. "They aren't all completely."

Jenny huffed, flipping to the next spread. "Not all of them. This one's holding a beach ball." Then she added quietly, "Though that really doesn't help much." She turned the magazine slightly, as if to catch a better angle in the dim room. Rob swallowed, suddenly too warm in the face.

"Are all guys that big?"

The room went suddenly quiet, save for the hum of Christmas lights. Jenny blinked, realizing that she had asked that out loud; a flush crept up her neck.

Mel breezed in before the silence got too heavy. "Honestly? Pretty much. They use normal guys."

Rob started to correct Mel when he noticed Jenny's eyes shift toward him, landing squarely in his lap. She didn't even seem to realize she was doing it. So this is what it felt like to be ogled. It wasn't quite as bad as Mel made it out. Rob raised his eyebrows. "Uh, hello? My eyes are up here."

Jenny went crimson, whipping her gaze back to the page. "I wasn't—I didn't mean—"

Mel was laughing now, sprawling across her pillows with abandon. "Oh, this is better than a sitcom."

Rob cleared his throat and turned his attention to Mel, mostly to avoid looking at Jenny's face—now nearly the shade of her hair. "Have you... uh... looked at it already?"

Jenny didn't glance up. "She knows the page numbers, Rob. Think about it."

A different thought hit Rob from out of nowhere, and he asked, before he could stop himself. "Do they have—uh—are they... excited?"

Jenny frowned at the picture. "They look happy to be in the magazine."

Mel laughed harder. She finally managed to get out, "That's not what he meant."

Jenny froze, processing the implication. "Oh. Ohhh." Her blush deepened even further.

She snapped the magazine closed like it might burn her fingers and tossed it at Mel's head.

"Okay. Done."

It wasn't his turn, but since Jenny wasn't reaching for the flashlight, Rob did. He shifted it between his hands before aiming it at Mel. He could have picked Jenny, but it didn't seem right to do her twice in a row. "Dare. Arm wrestle Jenny."

Mel arched an eyebrow, then slid off the bed with a shrug. "Fine." Jenny was already moving to meet her on the carpet. Rob hadn't planned this one out, but he'd been wondering ever since he'd seen them load and unload the bar.

They lay facing each other, elbows planted on the rug. From this angle, the view down Mel's shirt definitely wasn't safe, and he moved—a little reluctantly—to the floor, settling where her hair and posture kept him focused on their arms.

Jenny's eyes landed in the same place. "Wow, Mel, nice view."

"Focus, Jen," Mel said, rolling her eyes.

Rob reached forward, lacing his fingers over theirs, making sure they were even, ready to count them down. Mel tilted her head. "What are you doing?"

"This is how it starts," Jenny explained. "You don't just start pushing."

"Oh." Mel straightened her wrist, still skeptical.

Rob gave the count. "Ready. Set. Go."

At first, there wasn't much movement. Mel's longer arm gave her more leverage, and Mel was athletic, but there was no real muscle showing in her forearm, no tightness in her shoulders, which weren't quite as broad as his little sister's. Rob was disappointed and relieved. Jenny's arm, on the other hand, looked solid—her bicep pressing faintly against her sleeve, her swimmer's shoulders anchoring her. Rob thought he saw the smallest tremor of effort cross Jenny's face, but then Mel's wrist gave and her knuckles touched carpet.

"Wait, already?" Rob blinked, surprised and a little disappointed.

Jenny grinned, shaking out her hand. "Told you. I'm getting stronger."

Rob leaned forward. "Mel, you have to really try."

Mel stood up and brushed her hair from her face. The corner of her mouth quirked as she replied, "You really try. I dare you..." She paused, obviously for the suspense. "...to wrestle Jenny."

Rob was halfway down to the floor to take her place when Mel added slyly, "I didn't say arm wrestle."

Jenny's head snapped up, her green eyes almost sparking. "Oh, now it's on."

Rob froze halfway to standing, giving Mel a look. "Just so you know, this isn't much of a dare. We wrestle all the time." Half of him wanted to find a way out of wrestling in front of Mel. The other half wanted to impress her. Okay, beating your little sister at wrestling wasn't exactly impressive. He'd have to do it decisively.

Mel's eyes lit up, delighted. "Do you now?"

Jenny nodded, still smiling as she rolled her shoulders. "Ever since we were little. It's just... a thing."

"To let off steam, to settle arguments," Rob added with a shrug. "Or, you know, when we're bored."

Mel tilted her head, fascinated. "Who wins?"

Jenny answered before he could. "We were pretty even until Rob went through puberty."

Rob gave her a light shove, scandalized. "Hey!"

She shoved him back with a grin. "What? It's true. We were, and you did." She was still grinning when she added, "And since I have, I think I've been—"

Rob lunged before she could finish. They hit the carpet with a muffled thump, Jenny's laughter breaking into a grunt as his weight drove her shoulders down. Might as well get this over with.

"Cheap shot!" she barked, wriggling under him.

Rob pinned her wrists above her head, straddling her hips to keep her still, grinning down in victory. "Say uncle."

"Never." Her breath was hot with challenge.

That was pretty much how it always went. Playful at first, then competitive. Rob braced, expecting her to squirm free with one of her usual tricks. Sure enough, Jenny bent her knees and planted her feet, then shoved upward with her hips. He felt the jolt of her core strength nearly dislodge him and he had to tighten his thighs to stay on board.

"You've been working out?" he muttered.

"Swim practice makes swimmers' bodies," she shot back.

She twisted her legs to the side and pushed. They rolled, Rob landing on his back with Jenny sprawled across his chest. She had his wrists this time, her red curls spilling loose across his cheek as she laughed breathlessly.

"Got you," she said, triumphant.

"Wow, Rob," Mel added, unhelpfully.

He got his hands between them and pushed hard against her chest. As they rolled, her legs clamped down around his ribs like steel bands, surprising him with their power. His breath hitched, and he had to wrench his arms free and grab at her waist to peel her off. They rolled again—the carpet burning faintly against his elbows—until he was on top once more.

"Not bad," he said, breath coming faster now. He bore down, using his upper-body strength, pressing her arms flat against her head. He had an idea. A flicker of curiosity, maybe. He grinned wider. "Pretend you're really strong," he said.

He wasn't sure why he said it. It just came out. And for a second, Jenny's green eyes lit up—like she wanted to, like all she needed was his permission.

Rob felt it instantly—the tightening in her shoulders, the raw effort in her arms. Not a quick shove, not a token struggle. Real strength, more than he remembered, and more than he was ready for. His grip slipped just a fraction, and suddenly he was the one adjusting, leaning heavier across her chest to keep her pinned.

"Whoa," he breathed, surprised.

Jenny's cheeks flushed, her grin widening like she'd swum a winning race. She didn't know how close she'd come to just powering him off. He hoped she didn't know—either of them.

He flicked his eyes up for a second and found Mel propped on her elbows, leaning off the bed, watching them intently. That look—sharp, amused, almost hungry for what might happen—made heat crawl up the back of his neck. That cleavage—get your head in the game, Rob. No way was he going to lose in front of her.

With a grunt, he shifted his weight lower, using his chest and arms to trap Jenny's wrists tight against the rug. She arched under him, legs kicking, twisting hard enough that he felt the torque in his spine. Her thighs clamped his sides again, her heels digging into the floor for leverage. For a moment, he thought she'd bridge and roll him again.

But then her arms faltered. He pressed down harder, sliding her hands over her head to remove the last of her leverage—and the last of the space between them.

Pinned.

They stayed like that, breathing hard, their faces inches apart. Jenny's green eyes glittered up at him, her chest rising and falling against his. She let out a sharp breath that turned into a laugh.

"Fine," she said, grinning despite her flushed cheeks. "You win."

Rob grinned back, heart hammering harder than it should have. "Good match."

Jenny wriggled once more under him, not to escape, but just to remind him she wasn't completely beaten. Then she relaxed, her laughter bubbling out to fill the room.

Rob finally rolled off, flopping onto his back beside her. They lay there panting, side by side, the carpet rough under their sweat-damp arms.

Mel's slow clap broke the quiet. She was sitting up now, eyes alight with mischief. "That looked like fun. I might have to try sometime."

Rob turned his head toward her, still catching his breath. "That," he said dryly, "sounds like my cue to leave. Enjoy the sleepover, ladies."

— — —

That made Jenny laugh harder, and she threw a pillow at his retreating figure. Then she wondered which one of them Mel wanted to wrestle. Mel's arms wouldn't be as dangerous, but those legs...

The door clicked shut behind Rob, his footsteps fading down the stairs. Jenny and Mel stayed sprawled where they were, the hum of the Christmas lights filling the silence. Jenny's curls were still stuck to her cheek with sweat, and her chest rose and fell as though she'd just finished swimming laps.

"Okay," Mel said finally, rolling onto her side with a mischievous grin. "Confession time. You almost had him."

Jenny blinked at her. "What?"

"That bridge—you nearly flipped him. He had to dig in like crazy to keep you down. I saw his face."

Jenny laughed, then joined Mel on the bed. "He has to see I'm catching up. We're about the same height now. I think my shoulders are broader."

Mel propped her head on one hand, studying her friend. "They are. You scared him for a second."

Jenny hugged the pillow against her chest, trying not to smile. "You're impossible."

"True." Mel flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her voice carried less bravado now. "But I'll say this—if I had what you've got, I wouldn't be worried."

Jenny rolled onto her side, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"You're strong, Jen. Like... actually strong. Guys look at me because of..." She gestured vaguely at her chest, letting her hand fall. "But you make them take you seriously. You just pinned your older brother long enough to scare him. That's not nothing."

Jenny leaned up on her elbow, studying Mel's face in the dim light. "Wait. Of me? Mel, you're—jealous?"

"Sometimes," Mel cut in, still watching the ceiling. "Don't get used to it."

A laugh bubbled up from Jenny's chest—quiet and warm. She shifted onto the bed next to her friend, the mattress dipping with her weight.

They lay in companionable silence for a moment, thinking their own thoughts, the hum of the lights steady around them.

Then Jenny turned to Mel, a sly little smile tugging at her lips. "Let me see that magazine again."

Mel handed her the magazine and slipped under the covers, her thigh against Jenny's.