Though he pumped his arms and legs as hard as he could, John still came in second to Frank in the race back to his house.
“No fair.” He collapsed in a sweaty heap onto the grass, struggling to catch his breath but uncaring that the evening sun now blinded him where it sliced across the Hanson yard. “You have stork legs.”
Frank flopped down at his side, said legs stretched out in front of him. “I gotta beat you at something.”
“You beat me at plenty.”
“Grades.”
“My teachers are easier than yours.”
“Arm wrestling.”
John grinned. “That’s because you got stork arms, too.” When Frank made to punch his shoulder, John laughed and rolled out of the way.
“We should do something since you don’t have to work tonight.” Plucking a blade of grass, Frank held it between his thumbs to whistle throu
