huge old cherry tree with gnarled grey bark took up most of one side of the backyard. It was even hotter out here, since it was on the south side of the house. Even in the dappled shade under the cherry tree, it was hot. Sophie rubbed her feet on the grass and it tickled her toes.
“Cherry,” Zephram said, picking up a red cherry that had fallen. He put it into his mouth.
“Don’t forget to spit out the seed,” Sophie told him, which he did along with pink spit bubbles that dribbled down his chin in a pink stream.
“More cherry!” he demanded. “More cherry!”
They searched through the grass and found a couple more that he popped into his mouth. Sophie followed her little brother past the chicken pen, and the hens clucked at them.
“Here, chickie, chickie,” Zephram said, poking some grass through the wire of the chicken pen. He chewed on a long piece of grass himself as he wandered to the back fence.
Sophie helped him climb the fence boards so they could see over the top. “Hang on tight now,” she told him.
Someone was coming down the lane. It was Elizabeth Proctor again, riding her shiny new bicycle with the fat balloon tires. She stopped in front of them.
“Hi, Sophie.”
“Hi. I thought you had to go home.”
“I did, but my mother said I could ride around on my bike this afternoon. Is that your little brother?”
“Yes. His name’s Zephram.”
“Zephram?” Elizabeth screwed up her nose. “What kind of a name is that?”
“It was my uncle’s name. He was a real hero in the war. His airplane got shot down and everything.” Sophie ruffled her brother’s curly hair. Elizabeth must see how cute he was. Everybody always did.
“He’s sure got a dirty face. If he were my brother, I’d wash it. And comb his messy hair, too.” Elizabeth turned on her bike and rode away, the sun reflecting off the back fender.
Sophie lifted her little brother from the fence and gave him an extra-special hug. He was the cutest kid around. Dirty face and all.
“Let’s go find some more cherries,” she said brightly. They wandered back to the cherry tree, and as they searched in the long grass for more cherries, Sophie thought about what a stuck-up person Elizabeth was. Then she thought about her friend Marcie back in Montreal. She hadn’t had a letter from her for weeks. Maybe she would write her this afternoon.
“Cherry, cherry, cherry,” Zephram chanted.
His voice was coming from above Sophie’s head! She looked up to see the bottoms of his feet disappearing into the branches of the cherry tree.
“Oh, Zephie,” she squealed, “come down here! Come down right this second!”
“Cherry,” he said, pulling himself onto a higher branch.
Sophie clambered after him, but he just giggled. He thought it was a game, so he climbed even higher to where the branches were thinner and bent under his weight.
“No, Zephie! Stop! Don’t go any higher. You’re going to fall and break your neck!”
Then she heard Maman from the back porch. “Sophie! Zephram! Where are you? Oh, no! Not up in the tree! Hold on tight, mes enfants! Don’t fall! You’ll break your necks!”
She ran under the tree branches and held out her skirt as if to catch them if they fell. Sophie stared down at her mother, then back up at Zephram. She knew she had to get to him before he crawled any farther. The branch was so thin that it could snap under his weight at any moment.
Suddenly he seemed to realize the danger. “Fall?” he said, his voice quavering, his eyes huge.
“Come on, Star Girl,” Sophie muttered to herself as she cautiously eased herself up to where she could reach him. “Hold on tight, Zephie! I’m coming to get you.” She clutched a branch with one hand and leaned way over. “Got you!” she said, grabbing the back of his romper with her free hand.
“Hold on there!” Maman cried. “I’ll get the ladder.”
As her mother raced across the backyard to the chicken pen, Sophie held her brother’s romper in such a tight grasp that her hand throbbed, but she didn’t dare let go.
He stared down at her, his eyes filling with tears. “Fall,” he whimpered. “Fall down.”
“No, you won’t fall, Zephie. I’ve got you really tight.” But she wasn’t sure how long she could hold on to him. Or hold herself on to the tree, for that matter. She didn’t dare look down. She stared straight ahead at the fluttering green leaves.
Maman dragged the ladder across the yard and frantically set it up under the tree, leaning it against the branch just below Zephram’s legs. She gingerly climbed the ladder and reached into the branches for her little boy. “Pass him down to me, Sophie.”
Before Sophie could pull her brother loose, he leaped at his mother, squealing, “Maman, Maman!”
“Oof!” Maman grunted as he descended upon her. The ladder lurched and swayed. For a second Sophie thought it was going to topple, but Maman managed to grasp a branch to steady herself. “There now. There now, mon petit.” She took a deep breath and shifted Zephram under her arm, holding him like a football. “We’ll just go back down the ladder.” When she stepped onto the grass, she put Zephram down and gave a great sigh of relief, wiping her face, shiny with perspiration.
Sophie swung out of the tree like Star Girl and landed at her mother’s feet.
Maman shook her head, her hands on her hips as she looked at Sophie. “I don’t know where my children get it. You two must be part monkey. Always climbing, climbing...”
“Sorry, Maman. I was watching Zephram every minute. Really I was. I don’t know how he got up that tree so fast.”
Raising her eyebrows, Maman gave Sophie a cross look. Then she carried Zephram inside the house for his afternoon nap. Sophie trailed behind her.
After Zephram was safe in bed, Maman went back into the living room to continue practising the piano. “Monsieur le Curé said that the regular organist will be away on Sunday, so he asked me to play at High Mass,” she said. “The music has to be perfect.”
Sophie took a pile of her Star Girl comics out to the shady front steps to read. She’d write a letter to Marcie later. It was much too hot to do it now, even in the shade. She raked her fingers through her curly hair and wiped the sweat from the back of her neck. She thought about how lucky her brothers were, diving and swimming in the beautiful cool, clear water at Deer Lake.
She opened her favourite Star Girl comic. It was the one where Star Girl saves a train loaded with vacationers from crashing over a cliff by flagging down the engineer with her star-studded cape in the nick of time. That was what she needed! A star-studded cape. Then she could rescue somebody, too.
A boy appeared at the front gate. “Hey, Sophie, want to play?” It was her next-door neighbour,
