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"
What
?
"
"
Next
year
’
s
going
to
be
even
bigger
,
days
will
be
brighter
,
nights
longer
and
darker
,
more
people
dying
,
more
babies
born
,
and
me
in
the
middle
of
it
all
.
"
"
You
and
two
zillion
other
people
,
Doug
,
remember
.
"
"
Day
like
today
,
"
murmured
Douglas
,
"
I
feel
it
’
ll
be
.
.
.
just
me
!
"
"
Need
any
help
,
"
said
Tom
,
"
just
yell
.
"
"
What
could
a
ten
-
year
-
old
brother
do
?
"
"
A
ten
-
year
-
old
brother
’
ll
be
eleven
next
summer
.
I
’
ll
unwind
the
world
like
the
rubber
band
on
a
golf
ball
’
s
insides
every
morning
,
put
it
back
together
every
night
.
Show
you
how
,
if
you
ask
.
"
"
Crazy
.
"
"
Always
was
.
"
Tom
crossed
his
eyes
,
stuck
out
his
tongue
.
"
Always
will
be
.
"
Douglas
laughed
.
They
went
down
in
the
cellar
with
Grandpa
and
while
he
decapitated
the
flowers
they
looked
at
all
the
summer
shelves
and
glimmering
there
in
the
motionless
streams
,
the
bottles
of
dandelion
wine
.
Numbered
from
one
to
ninety
-
odd
,
there
the
ketchup
bottles
,
most
of
them
full
now
,
stood
burning
in
the
cellar
twilight
,
one
for
every
living
summer
day
.
