July was unprecedented in its harmony. The drudgery of school over with, the melancholia of late August yet to begin. July was thirty-one glorious days, five languid weekends of prime summer stretched out in front of me and culminating in my twelfth birthday. What sort of adventure awaited during those shoeless days ahead? I’d need an accomplice. I secured a playing card with a clothespin to the fender of my Supercycle. Bolstered by the slap slap slap of the Queen of Hearts hitting my spokes like a Wheel-of-Fortune, I pedaled off in double time along the creek to Kathy’s house.
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