While their parents were back in the city for the day, it fell to Julie to mind the little ones—not that they were so little. And they hardly every squabbled, not in any serious or sustained way. And Julie didn’t have anything else to do. Out here in the vacation cabin in middle of nowhere she had no friends about, and the Internet was spotty bordering on atrocious. Sometimes downloads took forever. And anyway the parents forbid the “little ones” from using screens, so no TV, no computers, no phones. The rule presumably didn’t apply to Julie, and it’s not as if Amelia or Conrad would squeal, but it wouldn’t be right for her to go on-line, even if there were good Internet.

Right now Julie was lying on the knotty pine floor reading “The Sun Also Rises,” one of the books on her summer reading list for college next fall, and Amelia and Conrad were investigating a moth trapped between the glass door of the patio and the screen.

“Look at its big red eyes,” Amelia said.

“What eyes?” Conrad asked.

“On its wings—don’t they look like eyes?”

“Do you think it’s dead?” Conrad asked.

“Probably just playing possum,” Amelia said.

“What’s playing possum?” Conrad asked.

“That’s when you pretend to be dead so you won’t be eaten by a bear,” Amelia said.

“Do bears eat moths?” Conrad asked.

“Bears eat anything,” Amelia said. “They’re omnivorous.”

“What kind of moth is it?” Conrad asked.

That one stumped Amelia, though apparently she knew quite a lot about insects; she knew quite a lot about everything. “There’s a computer ap that could tell us,” Amelia said. “But we’d need to have a picture.”

“Can’t we take a picture?” Conrad asked. Amelia explained the situation to Julie.

“Okay,” Julie said, “I guess one picture would be okay. My phone’s on the table near my bed.”

Amelia and Conrad fetched the phone. Amelia loaded the ap and took the picture.

“What’s it say?” Conrad asked.

“It says it’s a rat,” Amelia said. “Ricefield rat, found in southeast Asia.”

Conrad looked at Amelia, his face serious, and then both of them laughed. “I don’t think it’s a Ricefield rat,” said Amelia. “We’re nowhere near Southeast Asia. I think the picture’s too blurry.” She asked Julie if she could take another picture. “Maybe if we opened the window first,” she suggested.

“What if the rat gets in?” Julie said.

“We’d smoosh it,” Conrad said.

“Gross,” said Julie.

“Why is it gross?” Conrad asked.

“Bug juice,” Julie said.