“Ugh. What a horrible way to spend a day. A life. A couple hundred million dollars in construction.”

Not that he had an attitude about malls or anything. I decided not to tell him that I kind of agreed, that I wasn’t a huge mall fan, either. “So. Where’s your house again?” I asked.

“Over there. See, up two blocks that way?” Conor pointed to and described a beige stucco Tudor-style house with deep red trim that sat on the corner. There was a slight curve at the end of the street, so I could see the house from the end of the driveway.

“That looks nice,” I said. I stared at it long enough to commit it to memory—just in case I wanted to drop by sometime. Not that I would. Not after I’d just tackled Conor.

“Well, see you later. Have a good day.”

“Yeah. You too,” he said. “Look out for the Mighty Axe.”

I turned around to look at him. “The what?”

“It’s a ride that got stuck a few times at Camp Snoopy,” he said, referring to the amusement park inside the Mall of America. “People had to hang upside down for a while. Unless you like that kind of thing.”

I laughed. “Thanks for the tip.”

I trudged back up to the house and let myself inside. I dumped the lukewarm hot chocolate in the sink and made myself a fresh, hot cup in the same mug. Then I collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, where Gretchen was reading the morning paper.

“You didn’t tell me that Sean had a brother. And that his brother works at the bakery,” I said.

“Oh. I didn’t?” Gretchen asked.

“No. You definitely didn’t.”

“I thought I did.” Gretchen stirred a spoonful of diet drink mix into a glass of water. “Well, I guess I thought you knew.”

“Um. No,” I said. “How would I know that? And you know what else? I just basically hugged—no, attacked—Conor, because I thought he was Sean.”

She burst out laughing. “I know. I saw that!”

“Well, why didn’t you stop me?” I looked out the window at Brett and Conor, who were building a snowman together.

“Actually, I didn’t realize that was Conor instead of Sean until you went out there. Honestly.”

“Uh huh.” For some reason I didn’t believe her. Now that I was looking at Conor, I could see he was a little shorter than Sean. “So what’s the deal with the brothers?”

“Well. It’s kind of interesting. See, Sean’s like the star hockey player, star everything, in their school. But Conor isn’t. I guess he was a good player, but he didn’t make the team or something. Anyway, Conor is so totally jealous of Sean—you can see it. He picks fights with him all the time.”

“He does?” I took that with a grain of salt. My sister always seemed to go for the super-popular star types. It didn’t surprise me that she’d like the star brother more than the other one.

Gretchen insisted on being the prom queen when she was my age. And on dating the prom king. Her ex-husband had been the senior class president at his school, etc. You could say she was a little obsessed with status. I shouldn’t really take her advice when it came to this, in one sense. But even though her marriage had ended in divorce, she still knew a whole lot more about guys, and dating, than I did.

Of course that wasn’t saying much.

“Oh, yeah. In fact they argue and fight a lot. It’s hard for us to imagine, because we’re so far apart in age.”

“Right,” I said. But I was surprised she said that it was hard to imagine. We had actually had our own share of sibling rivalry at times. I distinctly remember her pushing me aside at some extended family wedding to grab the bouquet, when she was eighteen and I was eleven. As if I wanted the bouquet when I was eleven!

“But the Benson boys are only one year different—”

I burst out laughing.

“What?” She stopped. “What are you laughing so hard for?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know their last name was Benson.”

“What’s so funny about that?”

“The Benson boys? That’s not funny to you?” I laughed again. “For one thing, you sound like Mom when you say that, and for another, the Benson boys—like they’re in a band. They’re not quite the Beastie Boys, but appearing tonight…the Benson Boys!”

“I’m done out there.”

Suddenly, standing at the front door guiding Brett into the house, was Conor. There was a blast of cold air coming through the door, which was about the same feeling I got from Conor. He wasn’t looking at me. He hated me. And I’d hugged him. Closely. Very closely.

I sank down in my chair a little, wishing I could disappear inside my mug as fast as the marshmallows had.

“Thanks, Conor,” Gretchen said. “I was going to introduce you to Kirsten, but I guess you already met.” She laughed a little. I thought about dousing her with the hot chocolate.

“Oh, yeah. We go way back,” Conor said. “So, Sean will come by later if it snows any more. See ya, kid.” He patted Brett on the top of his head, then he gave me a final glance, and yanked the door closed with a slam.

Okay, so we’d gotten off on the wrong foot.

I thought of the way I’d shoved him into the bushes. No, the wrong feet.

I was just getting back to the house from walking with Bear that afternoon when a small, older red pickup pulled up beside the curb. I cautiously turned to see who was stopping beside me.

Conor lowered the window on the driver’s side. “Hey. I’m driving him to school hockey practice.”

I peered into the cab as I walked closer.

“Coach called an extra practice because we really sucked last night,” Sean said. “We lost the game and it was like the easiest team we played all year.”

I walked around and leaned on the window on Sean’s side. “So you can’t come this afternoon?”

“No. Sorry.” He sighed. “Anyway, this is my brother, Conor.” He gestured with his thumb at Conor.

“Yeah. We, ah, met this morning,” I said. Not to mention a couple of other times, before I knew who he really was.

“Oh, yeah?” Sean asked. “So what’d you think?”

“She thinks I’m great,” Conor said. “I think she said that, actually.”

Sean looked at Conor, and then at me, his eyebrows sort of semi-raised.

“I don’t actually remember saying that,” I said to Conor. I smiled and felt my face turn a little red.

Bear jumped up and put his paws on the window. He started panting right in Conor’s face.

Conor reached down to rub Bear behind the ears. Bear pushed against him, begging for more attention.

“So which one of you is older?” I asked.

“I am,” Conor said.

“Which one is taller?” I asked. “I’ve always been a little shorter than my sister, and it bugs me.”

“I’m taller,” Sean said.

“By like an inch,” Conor said.

“What? I’m six-two. You’re not even six feet.”

“Yes I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re five-eleven.”

“And a half,” Conor added.

“It’s still not six feet. So, you want to come watch practice?” Sean asked, finally turning back to me. Boy, could those two argue about nothing. Definitely siblings.

“Do you think she’s stupid?” Conor asked. “Who wants to watch someone else practice?”

“We’re good,” Sean said.

“Not that good, if you need extra practice,” Conor muttered.

“Shut up. You just wish you were still on the team.”

“Well, maybe I do,” Conor admitted. “But I’m sure she can think of something else to do with her time.”

“Yeah. I’ll probably do some reading,” I said.

“Write some emails?” Conor teased.

“Maybe.” I smiled.

“What’s that all about?” Sean asked.

“Her project, stupid,” Conor said.

“What project?”

“I told you—my Independent Study,” I reminded him.

“Oh, yeah, right.” Sean nodded, but I didn’t think that he actually knew what I was talking about. It was okay—we hadn’t discussed it much. “Okay, we should go.”

“Yes, sir.” Conor released the emergency brake and I laughed. He looked over at me. “What?”

“Oh. You just…you sort of sound like me when I talk to Gretchen.”