Bran was up to something.
I knew it the first day he showed me the house. He was speeding ahead of me on his bike, while I struggled and sweated behind him, huffing and puffing because even after three months in Florida I still wasn't used to the heat. I didn't know how Bran could be either, but my brother seemed to do everything right, even if it meant not sweating in 90-degree heat, with 90-percent humidity. Then suddenly he slammed on his brakes.
"Wait -- ," he said, placing both feet firmly on the sidewalk.
My bike's an old one we got at a yard sale, and the brakes are a little iffy, so I practically...