16
CAMPBELL
“Nora,” I called as I rushed off the bleachers and after my sister.
She was way past me, and I cursed myself for wearing black jeans in this Texas heat. I was heaving as I reached her. I was not cut out for running. A three-hour set under stage lights? Sure. Running? No.
“Nora, wait. Jesus, I can’t run like you.”
She slowed and swiped at the tears in her eyes. “God, you’re out of shape.”
“I’m really, really in shape for a musician.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You can barely run.”
“I lift weights,” I offered.
“You look pathetic.”
“God, I love having siblings,” I said as I caught my breath. “Running sucks.”
“I’m surprised you’re even here.”
“Can’t want to see my baby sister play?”
“No. You’re here for Blaire.”
“Yeah, okay. That’s true.” I slung an arm over her
