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Show Twisters , , . 11 SIX O'CLOCK "Set the table, Danny," Mom said as soon as we walked in, "your dad has to eat and run tonight," "OkayI" I detoured Arthur toward the bathroom so we could wash, "Is that chocolate pudding or chocolate pie?" he asked, sniffing the air. He can identify a dessert faster than my Grandpa Hatch, who holds the world's record. We took turns lathering our hands, squeezing the bar of soap to each other, laughing. Back in the kitchen, I was relieved to see that my brother Ryan's highchair was empty. I loved it when he was napping. "Where's Ryan?" I asked anyway. Mom was opening a bag of weiner buns. She looked tiredly across the room at Arthur, who was leaning in the doorway watching me count out plates. "Hi there, Arthur," she said, blowing hair out of her eyes. "Baby's cutting teeth, Danny. Took all afternoon for him to fall asleep." I could smell the pork and beans, heard them bubbling on the stove. Beans and weiners were our standard supper when Ryan was fussy, "Can Arthur eat with us?" I asked. "If he calls his mother," she said matter-of-factly. Before Ryan was born, Mom used to call Arthur and me her twins, meaning my buddy and I were practically inseparable. Of course, Arthur has dark skin and a mop of wavy black hair, whereas I'm one of those |