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bike up the steps and parked it, then kissed my mother's cheek, and my father dropped his spray can and put an arm around Alistair's shoulder, and they all went inside, talking together, a unity.
    It was only as my sister reopened the front door to let out her pet cat that I was noticed. From the surprised, slightly puzzled look on her face, I could tell that for the briefest of moments she hadn't recognized me.
    Then she said, "When you're done skulking about, we're having dinner in five minutes."
    As it turned out, Alistair didn't have dinner with us that night, but cleaned up, changed into some of his own clothing, and allowed my father to drive him the few blocks up to Kerry White's house on Hill Crest Lane. This was supposedly a big deal, as Mr. White was a stockbroker with a large old firm on Wall Street, the Whites' house and three-acre property were the largest and best kept in the area, and the Whites themselves were considered the social cream of the neighborhood, until now completely out of reach of us mere Sansarcs. So I was hardly surprised but I was thoroughly disgusted when my mother didn't a bit mind this delay of our meal so Alistair could hobnob with the Whites. Instead she hummed merrily all the while she served us, and once we were all eating, she said to my dad, "Dinner at the Whites' house. Maybe..."
    Maybe what? Probably that she, they, possibly all of us, might be invited to the Whites' for dinner someday, simply because we were Alistair's cousins.
    If that turned out to be the case, I'd never go.
     
    Saturday afternoon, Augie and I were practicing up in the Vanderveer lots, away from the junior high school boys who were having a real game, when Guy Blauveldt and Carmine DeRosa biked up.
    I'd been batting better that day than ever before. And Augie was trying out his new curveball, both of us attempting to gain confidence for the game the following afternoon, when Guy shouted, "Not bad. But you're wasting your time."
    "I know I'll never be as good as you, Guy, but how about shutting up and letting me practice?"
    "I didn't mean you, Rog. I meant Augie was wasting his time," Guy said. "He's been knocked down the roster for tomorrow's game."
    "By who?" both of us demanded to know.
    "I don't know."
    "When?"
    "This morning. We just passed Tony Duyckman coming out of the Superette with his mom, and he told us."
    "Who else was there?" Augie wanted to know.
    "Why weren't we told about this meeting?" I persisted.
    "Hey! I don't know. I wasn't there!"
    Augie and I surrounded him. I shoved my bat handle into Guy's front spokes so he couldn't move.
    "Don't give me that crap!" I said. "Tell us!"
    "Ask Tony. Or better still, ask your cousin. He's the one who called a meeting."
    "Let him go!" Augie said.
    "Who else was there?" I demanded.
    "Tony. Ronny. Coupla other guys."
    "The shrimp?" I asked, meaning Kerry White.
    "I guess so. The meeting was at his house."
    "He'll die like a dog!" I pulled the bat out of the spokes, and Guy was smart enough to leap onto his bike before I could smash it to smithereens. "They'll all die like dogs." I kept swinging the bat, but by now Guy and Carmine had biked out of range and were looking back. I noted that they were headed toward Ronny's house.
    Despite Augie's protests to "forget about it, will ya," I got him on his bike and we also headed for Ronny Taskin's house.
    "You're on the top of that pitching roster, or someone dies!" I shouted at Augie enough times to get him annoyed and angry too.
    As I'd suspected, we found Guy and Carmine's bikes thrown down on the lawn by Ronny's back porch. We dropped ours on top of them, then fought our way through the brambles surrounding the supposedly padlocked and unused side door of the Taskins' big, old freestanding garage.
    They were all there waiting for us: Ronny, Tony, Kerry, Bob, and my second cousin, with the messengers announcing our arrival still breathless from their ride.
    I had my bat in my hand and was swinging it. "Okay,