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just one of the stories. But they always involved bees.
    “I like bees. They’re the best,” Devin said, sitting across from me, Indian style. His grin went from ear to ear. When he smiled it was with his whole body.  His shoulders rose up to form a smile’s curve across his chest.
    “Yellow jackets are better,” I said.
    “I know where there’s a nest.”
    “Where?”
    Then, as it had become standard, our names were shrieked from the house. We were in trouble again. Though, it no longer mattered to Devin and me. We were always in trouble. There was no ‘getting’ in trouble anymore. A punishment was like a commercial break during Saturday Morning Cartoons. We just zoned out until we could play again.
    “Did you put glue in your sister’s shampoo?” my mother asked.
    Devin and I had taken a pact. When asked, neither responded.  That made my mother madder. It had in many ways broken her. Rather than long lectures and threats of old, she simply dismissed us to a chore. “Weed the front flowerbed. I want it perfect,” she said.
    I pulled up a few flowers in spite. I had to make up for how nice of a job Devin had done.
    That was how it went for a year.
    And then we tried our family vacation again.

DEVIN:
     
    Dad believed me every time I told him I wanted to fish. He even bought me a brand new fishing rod and my very own tackle box. I hated them both—the tackle box and the fishing rod. Fish never did anything to anybody. They were treated like vegetables. And they smelled bad. Did we eat them because they stink? People are stupid. My father is stupid.
      A couple weekends before our family vacation, he took me down to our pond and had me practice. He’d say things like, keep your arm straight, bend at the elbow, and good job.
    I brightened my eyes for him. That’s what he wanted to see.
    I could fake interest. I learned that was the only way to get a teacher to leave you alone. It also worked great on parents.
    The lesson went over well. But there were no fish to catch in our pond.
    There were snapping turtles, frogs, and snakes. Though I’d only ever seen the frogs and their eggs. I liked how their eggs felt. It was better than jelly. They were great projectiles—that’s something you can throw at somebody. Jenny hated them. Which only made me love them more.
    But I had to be a perfect child if my plan was going to succeed.
    I was on my best behavior, and knowing Kristen had my back made it easier to play nice. Kristen and I had stopped our prank war against Rebecca and Jenny weeks in advance. Still, I almost expected my parents to make us agree to behave in the car ride. But they must’ve noticed how well we were all getting along, because they didn’t bring up anything that happened last year.
    Stupid parents.
    Maybe we should’ve started playing them like this long ago. But we were just children. We were the stupids then.
    After this trip, they’d never take us anywhere together again.
    I was going to make sure of that.
    I tightened my seat belt as tight as I could. The pain seemed to work as a distraction. I needed it. I was so giddy as I tried to keep my eyes on the flickering trees and powerlines. I had to try and ignore the radio which kept playing the same awful songs. It wasn’t a long car ride… it was the evil radio. Over and over, the same awful songs that grownups liked or Jenny… Jenny liked all of them.
    She tapped her foot and pretended to sing along. Half the words she didn’t know and her voice would dip in and out like a cat left outside late at night.
    Jenny also wiggled in her seat. She did this on purpose. She knew it made the backseat of the station wagon shake. That’s where I sat with Kristen. She had requested the back, even though I knew it made her car sick. She fought through it, because then we wouldn’t have to sit with Jenny.
    We couldn’t discuss our plan, as I’m sure we’d both have liked to. We had to talk almost in code. Like spies meeting on a park