There’s a girl running through the rapeseed in the yellow afternoon. Jenny always loses at tig because I’m three years older than her.
“It’s not fair!” she yells when I leap on her back and we crash to the ground. “You really hurt me this time, Olivia!”
My sister rubs her arm in surprise.
“It’s just a bruise,” I tell her.
“I don’t know why we always have to play this,” says Jenny, standing up and dusting off. “It’s too hot. Why is it always ho-ot?”