Micah’s dad is always doing thoughtful stuff like making cookies. Micah’s mom works in sales for a pharmaceutical company and travels a lot. I almost never see her because when she is home, they have family “quality” time and Micah isn’t allowed to have friends over.

“Hi,” Micah says when I follow Ivy inside. He’s sitting at the kitchen counter, holding a sneaker and trying to get a knot out of the laces. He finally uses his teeth to pull it loose.

“Gross!” Ivy says, impressed.

“Micah, think about all the places those laces have been,” his dad says.

“Spicy,” Micah says.

Mr. Sasaki looks at me and rolls his eyes. “I thought we agreed you were going to work on teaching this kid some life skills,” he says to me.

“Rachel’s going to teach me how to be a farmer!” Micah says, finally pulling the knot loose.

“Oh, yeah?”

“She got a job taking care of the animals at the new house. She has to feed them all and walk a baby cow on a leash!”

“It’s a steer,” I correct him.

“What’s the difference?” Micah asks.

“A cow is a girl.”

“Well, whatever, it’s still silly.”

“That’s a big responsibility,” Mr. Sasaki says to me.

I shrug. “I only started today, but it doesn’t seem too hard.”

“I wish someone else around here would get a job.”

This time Micah rolls his eyes.

“There’s an opening for taking care of the Grayson twins,” I say, just to annoy him.

“I’m not sure Micah could handle those two,” his dad says.

“I’m standing right here,” Micah says. “And I could totally handle them. I just don’t choose to.”

“Can’t blame you,” Ivy says. “I heard they set their backyard playhouse on fire, and when the firefighters came, they discovered a bunch of Barbies tied up in there, like the twins were pretending to burn people alive.”

“Wow,” Micah’s dad says.

“Twenty years from now, when they’re in the news for some scary crime, we’ll be able to say we knew them,” Micah says.

“I’m not sure I’d want to admit that,” I say. “Maybe you should babysit them so you can be a positive influence on them and keep them from going to jail.”

“Now, that’s a big responsibility,” Ivy says.

“All right, you guys, enough of that,” Mr. Sasaki says. “Go to the beach and have fun. And wear your bike helmets!”

We bike to the beach and find our usual spot at the far end. Ivy throws her bag on the sand and doesn’t even bother to lay her towel out before kicking off her sneakers, stripping to her suit, and dashing into the water.

“Thanks for letting her come with us,” I say. “She’s kind of bummed she couldn’t go to camp.”