Sister City

Chapter Two

Now, back to the day we met Marcus. The nine of us crossed the street to welcome the new neighbors. Looking back, I can understand why they would have been a bit overwhelmed. More than once we’d been told we had the presence of an army.

It only took Luka a moment to see that Marcus was wearing an old ratty football jersey over his tee shirt. Within seconds he had made an about face, sprinted back into the garage, and grabbed his football. He skidded to a stop on the sidewalk on our side of the street and threw a gently sloping pass to Marcus, calling “heads up” as it sailed across the street. Marcus turned in time to see the ball soaring towards him. Gauging the distance and taking a few large steps backward, Marcus threw up his arms to catch the ball. With a wide grin on his face, and a football held in his outstretched arms, Marcus took one too many steps backward and tripped over a small pile of fur. Falling none too gracefully, Marcus managed to hold onto the ball, and sprang to his feet crowing in triumph. The small pile of fur streaked away from his master’s loud shouts. Luka barreled past everyone in order to high five Marcus and help him celebrate his victory by spiking the ball into an open box, overflowing with clothes.

“That’s it,” Marcus’s dad said with a wide grin. “Now we’ll never see them again.”

“Oh, they’ll come up for air every once in awhile,” Mom remarked, with a knowing look.

“And food,” Dad added, holding out his hand. “I’m Dan Townsend, and this is my wife, Guenevere.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Mom tried to wave at Mr. Stephenson around Alexander as he struggled to escape her arms.

“I’m Rick. Rick Stephenson. This is my boy Marcus. Are they all yours?”

“They’re all ours,” Dad replied proudly.

“You don’t have more in hiding, do you?” Rick joked.

“Not that I know of,” Dad replied, and he proceeded to introduce us with his usual flair. “Jack is our oldest – who waved - follower by Inara – who curtsied properly - then James – who waved shyly – Luka you’ve already met, and his twin, Catherine.”

“Rin. Nobody calls me Catherine.” I had interrupted, but nobody bothered to chastise me since I had caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and wandered away. I tuned Dad out as he introduced rest of our clan.

The movers were unloading pieces for the largest trampoline I had ever seen. The jumping pad had to be twenty feet long. About a hundred springs bounced everywhere when bottom fell out of the box being carried by the grouchiest of the three movers. Coach Artemov had just taught me a new technique for landing the whip back – double layout I’d attempted the day I met him and here was the perfect opportunity. I was practically drooling.

“Dad,” I interrupted again, talking over him as he told Mr. Stephenson about the neighborhood.

Hearing the wonderment in my voice, everyone, even Luka, who had been tackling Marcus on the grass, followed my line of sight.

“Whoa, Marcus.” Luka boomed, dropping the football. “When can we get on that?”

A look passed between the three adults. I watched them like a hawk, waiting for the inevitable ‘maybe later’ response.

“If everyone grabs a couple of boxes, and we can get everything moved into the house in two hours, we’ll set up the trampoline.” Mom announced.

Luka, ever the cunning bargainer, added our terms. “If we get it done in hour, we want pizza and ice cream too.”

“Done,” Mr. Stephenson agreed.