The Map Beneath the Oak
The sun sits fat and golden over Maple Hollow, spilling warm light across rooftops and lawns like honey poured from a jar. It is the kind of afternoon that makes the whole neighborhood smell like cut grass and charcoal grills, the kind where the air itself seems to hum with the lazy buzz of cicadas. Sprinklers tick-tick-tick across yards in rhythmic arcs, and somewhere down the block, a dog barks at nothing in particular, just for the joy of hearing its own voice.
Sam tears across Mr. Higgins' lawn first, arms flung wide, sneakers slapping through the wet grass as the sprinkler catches him square in the chest. He whoops, loud and delighted, spinning in a circle with water droplets flinging off him like sparks.
"Come on, slowpokes!" he shouts over his shoulder, grinning so wide his whole face seems to glow.
Mia is right behind him, her dark curls already damp, shrieking with laughter as the cold spray hits her legs. "Wait for me, wait for me!" she calls, though she's the one catching up, not the other way around.
Ben follows more carefully, timing his dash so he crosses through the spray exactly when it arcs away from him, staying mostly dry. "You're supposed to run *around*…
