Sophie smiled grimly at me.
“He’s bound to get into trouble on his way down. He always does,” she sighed, looking regretfully after her brother’s back as he peddled away. I smirked knowingly.
“Don’t worry, that’s just what brothers do,” I advised. As if to solidify my point, at that moment my mother’s voice was heard, yelling at the top of her lungs,
“Erich Ritcher Rosenthal! You get back in here at once and…” The rest of her sentence was cut off by the banging of our front door, shooting out Erich, who looked like he was running for his life. Grabbing his bike, he pedaled madly across the street and out of view. Glancing at Sophie, I saw her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Grabbing her by the hand, I pulled her to her feet.
“C’mon. I just got some lemonade – we can have a picnic in my room,” I laughed, dragging her towards my house.
“Thank you. I think I’ll like it here,” Sophie giggled as we raced towards the building. And so began an incredible friendship that would span many, many years.
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