Ginny wished for Sandy now, wished it were summer, when the days outdoors never ended. Instead of Sandy, she got Kit, her next-door neighbor who now stood peering in at her. He was two years older and was a boy, but he was better than no one…They listened to the shush-shush-shush of their neighbor scrubbing the weeds off the bottom of his boat, already hauled out for winter. In a few months, storms would push the water over the rocks; the fort—at least most of it—would wash away. In May, Ginny would build another.
“Wanna go rowin’?” Kit asked.
They climbed over the rocks to the dock and pulled in the dinghy on the outhaul.