“You know,” he said, not looking at me, “the rope swing was probably fine. The fecal coliform thing. I was just scared.”
“I know,” I said, sitting down next to him. “You’re a terrible liar.” My Only Bitchy Cousin Is a Yankee-Type Guy- The...
Bradley had pale skin that burned if you looked at it wrong, and he wore the same navy-blue polo shirt tucked into khaki shorts every single day. He was nine going on forty. While the rest of us kids were catching lightning bugs and eating watermelon on the porch, Bradley would be inside, reorganizing my grandmother’s spice rack alphabetically. “You know,” he said, not looking at me,