(Alan learned to pay attention when Bruce was reluctant to leave home
for a walk during those days -- the same premonition that made him
perfectly toilet-trained at home would have him in fretting sweats at
the foreknowledge that he has destined to soil himself during the
recreation.)
His nightmares ran twice: once just before bed, in clairvoyant preview,
and again in the depths of REM sleep. Alan learned to talk him down from
these crises, to soothe the worry, and in the end it worked to
everyone's advantage, defusing the nightmares themselves when they came.
He never forgot anything -- never forgot to have Alan forge a signature
on a permission form, never forgot to bring in the fossil he'd found for
show-and-tell, never forgot his mittens in the cloakroom and came home
with red, chapped hands. Once he started school, he started seeing to it
that Alan never forgot anything, either.
He did very well on quizzes and tests, and he never let the pitcher fake
him out when he was at bat.
After four years alone with the golems, Alan couldn't have been more
glad to have a brother to keep him company.
Billy got big enough to walk, then big enough to pick mushrooms, then
big enough to chase squirrels. He was big enough to play
hide-and-go-seek with, big enough to play twenty questions with, big
enough to horse around in the middle of the lake at the center of the
mountain with.
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