Free Night Swimmers by Betsy Byars

say. “I won’t have this kind of behavior!” She forgot that it was she herself who had taught him to slip out in the first place.
    Johnny and Arthur did not glance back. Johnny was walking sideways now, facing Arthur so he wouldn’t miss anything Arthur said or did. Retta was moving through the yards, keeping close to trees and shrubbery even though she felt Johnny would not notice her even if she walked openly in the street.
    The street came to a dead end, and the boys cut through a vacant lot. Retta moved closer. Without the street lights it was harder to keep them in sight.
    Retta stumbled over a child’s lawn mower that had been left in the weeds. She fell forward. She remained face down for a moment, afraid they might have heard her.
    When she raised her head, she saw they were moving up the hill, unaware of anything but themselves. “I could have broken my neck and they wouldn’t notice,” she muttered as she got to her feet. Her eyes were hard, her lips set.
    Up the hill the boys were now in the clearing. They moved to the top of the hill and paused. Retta stooped and began to crawl toward them. There were few bushes and no trees, and she was determined not to be noticed until she was ready. Still stooping, she moved around the hill and came up behind them.
    Arthur and Johnny were bent forward, backs to her, when she came over the crest of the hill. She eased herself onto her stomach and lay watching them.
    Their backs hid what they were doing, but Retta did not dare move closer. They had some sort of plastic dry cleaning bag—she could see that—and Johnny was holding one end in the air.
    “Is that right?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    Arthur was kneeling, striking matches, shielding them from the evening breeze with his hand. He was lighting something. Retta got to her knees. She had to see what he was doing.
    In the opening of the plastic bag was a wire circle with narrow strips of wood across it. The strips of wood were covered with little candles. Arthur lit the candles quickly, lighting new matches from the burning candles. When all the candles were lit, the bag began to fill with hot air.
    Retta stood. She was glad they were playing with fire because that was something no mother allowed.
    The bag was filled now. The candles glowed eerily in the night. “It’s getting ready to go,” Arthur said. Johnny stepped back, hands clasped together with excitement.
    Retta took one step forward as the bag rose into the air. Her shoulders were straight. The fact that what the boys were doing could be dangerous gave her extra strength. With her hands on her hips, she started across the clearing.
    The bag was rising rapidly now, shooting up into the cool night air. Both boys’ faces were turned skyward.
    Retta moved toward them. She was not running. She had all the time in the world.
    “Look how high it is!” Johnny cried. At that moment Retta reached him. She paused a moment, watching him. His hands were clasped beneath his chin, his face turned upward.
    Abruptly Retta grabbed him by the upper arm and spun him around. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.
    Johnny’s mouth fell open. He drew back instinctively. Retta clutched his arm tighter.
    “I said what are you doing?”
    Johnny had no answer. His mouth had gone dry. His knees were weak. He drew in a long, shuddering breath as if it were his last.
    Retta pointed to the hot-air bag. It was descending now down the hill. It hovered over a tree and then rose as the candles reheated the air. Retta had a renewed flash of anger that the candles had not set the tree on fire. That would have really proved her point.
    Arthur moved toward them then, and Retta turned back to her brother. She shook him as fiercely as an animal shakes its prey. Johnny did not struggle. He allowed himself to be shaken.
    Suddenly Retta wanted to make his actions look as bad as possible. She leaned forward, including Arthur in her dark glance. “What are you trying to do?”