A Clatter of Jars Read Free

decades ago, although scholars debate the claim.”
    Suddenly Lily noticed that Miles and Renny had the same sharp nose. Same auburn hair. Same pasty knees. Miles was a bit broader, but they were brothers, no question.
    â€œI didn’t know there were two Fennelbridge kids,” Lily said. She was sure
A Singular History
had mentioned only one. “What’s his Talent?”
    Renny halted midstride to tug at the top of his right sock. “Make enough Fennelbridges, and one of them’s bound to be Fair.” He let out a sour laugh. “That’s what our dad likes to say.”
    â€œIf you ask me,” Chuck chimed in, “there are two Fair kids in the Fennelbridge family.”
    â€œWhat do you mean by that?” Renny snapped.
    â€œYou obviously stink at reading minds,” Chuck informed him. “I’ve been mentally threatening to pop you in the jaw for the past ten minutes, and you haven’t flinched once.”
    Lily couldn’t help it. She laughed.
    Oblivious to the awkwardness behind him, Del pointed to a sturdy building hewn from logs. “There’s the lodge,” he called back. “Meals are served on the mess deck. All-camp slumber party’s the second Friday of camp, and the Talent show’s that Sunday, before your parents take you home.”
    At the mention of the Talent show, Lily’s heart snagged her chest. Maybe there was still time to come up with a new act to perform with Max.
    A lot could happen in two weeks.
    â€œThe lodge also houses the office of our camp director, Jo,” Del continued. “She plays a mean harmonica.”
    Miles broke from his Talent history just long enough to tell the dirt, “I play a nice harmonica. I learned last year in music. Cassandra Colby Donovan. Born 1851, died 1900. Talent: Quest. Fun fact: Cassandra Donovan was the Needle-in-a-Haystack champion of Baxley, Georgia, for forty years running, until they retired the competition.”
    â€œUp ahead is the archery ring,” Del went on. “There’s the fire pit, where we hold our campfire each Friday. And if you squint, you can make out the lake through the trees.”
    At that, Miles stopped walking. “No water!” he squeaked.
    Del offered Miles a friendly smile. “What’s wrong with a little”—he spit into one hand and pressed his palms together before sprinkling miniature icicles in the dirt—“
water
?” He took in Miles’s alarmed expression. “Not a fan of a classic Numbing Talent, huh?” Del cleared his throat. The ice-spit at his feet was already melting in the sun. “Uh . . . canoes are available every day after breakfast, and if you feel like swimming, Jo encourages you to grab your towel any time of day and hop right in the water.”
    â€œ
No water!
”
    Miles shrieked it that time. And he began flicking his fingers, too—
flick-flick-flick-flick-flick!
    Quick as lightning, Renny grabbed his brother’s hand. “You guys sell Caramel Crème bars at the camp store, right?” Renny asked Del. Miles’s fingers slowly ceased their flicking. “Miles loves Caramel Crème bars.”
    â€œI want a Caramel Crème bar,” Miles said, pulling his hand free. If Lily hadn’t witnessed the scene herself, she’d never have believed that Miles had been in a near panic thirty seconds earlier.
    â€œUh . . .” Del scratched a spot below his ear. “What was the question again?”
    â€œCaramel Crème bars,” Renny reminded him.
    â€œOh. Right.”
    As Del went over the store’s hours, Lily wound the length of yarn around her thumb, watching Renny with his brother. Lily had tied the yarn around her thumb three weeks ago. Since then, the lime green strands had turned swampy, thinning and separating, and the skin underneath had grown raw from constant rubbing. It had stung for some time, like a