“Don’t you need to be doing evening chores across the street?” my mom asks as my dad silently puts the groceries away.

“The Townsends came home early and gave me the afternoon off.”

“Oh.”

“That reminds me, he said my paycheck would be in the mailbox!” I run outside and down the driveway, but when I check, the mailbox is empty except for some junk mail and more bills.

“Well?” Ivy asks when I come back inside. “How much did you get?”

“It wasn’t there,” I say. “I’ll check again later.”

“What should we make for dinner?” my dad asks. “We have pasta, pasta, or pasta.”

“Pasta!” Ivy yells.

“Rachel, can you go pick some basil in the garden?” my mom asks.

“I’ll help!” Ivy says.

Ivy and I go out to the garden together. Most of the vegetables aren’t ready to pick yet since it’s only late June, but my dad started the basil plants inside, so they’ve already got nice big leaves. I show Ivy how to pinch them off and leave the stems just so, in order to let new growth keep coming. Once we fill the small bowl my mom gave us, we walk up and down the rest of the rows and I tell Ivy what vegetables will come up soon. She knows most of them without me having to tell her, which is impressive.

“But can you tell the difference between the zucchini and the cucumber vines?” I ask.

She studies both and then points to the plant with the bigger leaves and says, “Zucchini!” But I realize she cheated by looking at the small stone my dad painted a Z on and placed in front of the row.

“Nice try,” I say.

She smirks.