Sometimes in my dreams, I’m caught in an endless game of hurry home, except that my legs won’t run, my mouth won’t open, my eyes are sewn shut. I’m always an adult in those dreams, but Pim remains a little boy. And in my nightmares, he’s still so much faster than I am.

“I want to be the guarder,” I said as the three of us walked out of the kitchen onto the porch, the old screen door banging behind us. The last few times we’d played, Pim always caught me and I’d had enough of that. He gripped the clothespin, his thumb on the very top. He’d scratched our initials down the side of the wood, slept with the peg in his fist at night.

“Hand it over,” I said. “It’s my turn. I’m only playing if I’m the guarder.”

“Pim, she’s right. It is her turn,” Ruth said gently. “Remember how it’s good to share?”

I crossed my arms, tapped my foot on the old planked porch with a feigned sternness. I loved hurry home. My favorite part was the secrecy, the hidden spots I’d developed to watch home from that were faraway and elaborate, too sophisticated for my brother or Ruth to ever spot. I was good at it: the attack was all in the timing. But my speed as a runner didn’t match my sneakiness. It was rare I didn’t get tagged. Even so, why couldn’t I have let Ruth be the guarder that day? At her age, she straddled the world of adulthood and children. She may have seen danger coming when I did not.

“You can be guarder again next round,” she said to Pim, which wasn’t true because there were rules. You couldn’t just break them. With a sigh, Pim passed me the clothespin, and when we reached the tree-lined arena, Ruth put her arm around both of us in a huddle.

“Ready, you two? And remember it’s just a game, okay? We’re just playing, and we’re not staying out here for long. There’s lemonade in the fridge, and the winner gets first glass.”

She shouldn’t have said that. Because I decided right then I wanted the lemonade. I would have it, and I would drink it all down in one go, watching my brother’s face through the bottom of the glass. Ruth and Pim took off to hide. I ground the peg into the dirt, stamped on it twice to be sure. I was ready. The air hung heavy with heat, the only sound the occasional droopy peep of a bird.