It has all been a mistake. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew.
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