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Chapter 1
 The first time I truly thought my older sister was crazy was when shestarted picking on Mr. Hatchski, and then lied to a policeperson. I mean,even kids don’t lie to either one (the police person or scary neighbors). Though, we weren’t kids anymore, that was for sure. The three Harper sisters—my older sister Faith, me, and my younger sisterEdie, were playing with Curiosity, in the front yard when Faith accidentallychucked Curiosity’s favorite ball into Mr. Hatchski’s yard straight acrossthe street.“Curiosity!” we all yelled, but it was too late, and she was already gonewith the wind.“Damn dog,” said Faith, because everyone knows that swearing fixesthings.Anyways, we crossed the street and stood up against his old white picketfence, trying to see or hear Curiosity. Mr. Hatchski’s yard is wilder thanthe jungle. There’s a blanket of ivy covering the ground, and these hugeold trees pushing up against the sky, and in the middle there’s these hugepoofy bushes that are kind of prickly-looking.Right when Faith had half of herself over the fence, Mr. Hatchski’s frontdoor stood open and there he stood, in all his plaid-bathrobe-wearingglory.“Miss Trescott!” he shouted, and came barreling down his walk, really fastfor a guy who claims he can only walk with a walker when he’s crossingthe street to get to the mailbox and you’re sitting in your car, waiting forhim to move so you can move the car. “Miss Trescott!” he shouted reallyloud again, only Faith wasn’t paying any attention.“
This isn’t going to work on him
,” I hissed, because I knew what Faith wasgoing to do, and I also knew it wasn’t going to work on Mr. Hatchski; hewas too old-age.“Miss Trescott!” Finally, Mr. Hatchski, huffing and puffing his way to thefence. “Get out of my yard!”
 
Finally, my sister turned around. “Who, me?” she asked with a wide-eyedlook on her face.“Yes, you!” said Mr. Hatchski, waving his arms around in the air like hewas trying to imitate a flying bird.“Oh,” said Faith, “I didn’t know you were talking to me.”“There’s no one else in my yard, is there?” he looked challengingly at Edieand me, as if any second one of us was going to vault over the fence and join Faith and the nut parade in his yard, too.“No,” said my sister, her lips pursed, getting annoyed. “It’s just that myname isn’t Miss Trescott.”“Yes it is,” Mr. Hatchski blatantly informed her, “and get out of my yardthis instant! You—” he said, swiveling around to face me, pointing an oldstubby finger at me, “young Trescott—get your sister out of my yard rightnow!”“No, it’s not,” continued Faith. “It’s Miss Harper. As with my sisters. Mydad’s name is Trescott. Have you got a problem with that?”“No,” blustered Mr. Hatchski. His arms had stopped wind milling, Inoticed, but now they started up again. “Whatever the hell your name is, Iwant you
out of my yard!
”My sister began picking her way back toward the fence very slowly. “I willget out,” she said calmly, “when you apologize.”“What?!” Mr. Hatchski was too outraged to even yell. He look crazed,standing in the midday sunlight in a shabby old bathrobe and uncombedhair and a 5 o’clock shadow even though it was only noon, yelling at awoman tidy in jeans and a swept-back ponytail.“That’s right,” said Faith, stopping three feet from the fence. “Apologize.For making the terrible and anti-feminist conclusion that I have assumedmy dad’s name and that so have my sisters. Oh, and for being so rude asto not know either of my sisters’ names.”“I’m Cal,” I said patiently, not about to let him suffer while he wracked hisbrains. I mean, Mr. Hatchski was at least eighty. “And this is my littlesister Edie.”
 
He squinted at me. “Huh,” was all he said. “Huh.” Then he turned back tomy sister. “I will
not 
apologize! And you’re trespassing!”“You don’t have a sign up,” she pointed out.“What?”“One of those ‘No Trespassing’ signs. I mean, how was I supposed toknow?”“From the last fifty times I’ve told you to get out of my yard!”“Oh, really!” my sister was getting seriously ticked off. She crossed herarms in front of her chest and glared. “I will apologize if you do, but youneed to go first.”“I refuse! Get—off—my—PROPERTY!”“We need to talk, Mr. Hatchski,” Faith said, giving him her version of adeath glare.At that moment, Curiosity burst out of the shrubbery, proudly bearing herfavorite ball, and Mr. Hatchski let out a shriek that would wake the dead.“That…that…that thing…get it…get it OUT of here!” he sputtered.My sister sighed, apparently sick of the whole thing. “Okay, guys, let’sgo,” she said, and vaulted back over the fence like nothing had everhappened.Mr. Hatchski stood there, yelling insults at us like a madman as weretreated back across the road to our house.Edie and I just stared at her. Faith can get a little out of hand with thewhole feminist-kick thing.“I’m not really in the mood to play with Curiosity anymore, what aboutyou guys?”I shook my head. “Seriously, Faith, I don’t think it’s good to tick Mr.Hatchski off.”She shrugged. “Whatever. Hey, did I get my new issue of 
Seventeen
?”I shook my head again, but this time for two reasons: 1) Faith had not yetreceived her magazine, and 2) I was in awe of her. Honestly.
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z.rose7

Now includes Chapter 2 as well... Comments are welcome!

reply02 / 22 / 2009
z.rose7

This is an update version! Re-read if you would like.

reply02 / 19 / 2009
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