The door creaked open.

"What up, Buttercup?" a voice called.

Sara nearly fell out of her chair when she saw the person standing in the doorway.

"CHARLES!" she screeched.

Her brother grinned, stepping into her room. "Holy cow. I forgot how PINK your room is."

Sara threw her arms around her brother's waist and squeezed him.

"Oomph," he groaned. "I didn't forget how strong you are. You been doing pushups like I told you?"

Sara released him, taking a step back. "Of course! You know how the Martian is about making sure all the field hockey players stay in tip top shape."

"Good," Charles said. He gave her arm a light punch. "By the way, Happy Birthday. Obviously, that's why I'm here."

Sara skipped past him down the hallway. "Yeah. I figured you'd show up."

"You did NOT!" Charles shouted. He raced after her down the stairs.

"NO, WAIT!" Sara shrieked. She tried to block him with her hands, but he was too fast.

He grabbed her up around the waist and hauled her over his shoulder.

"Gotcha!" he yelled.

"Put me down, Brute!" Sara said. She started to hit him playfully on his back with her fists.

"Mom? Dad? You around?" Charles shouted. "I found our prisoner. I'm taking her outside."

Sara's mother's voice echoed from the kitchen. "Don't let Sara come in here, Charles. Not until we say so."

"You got it, Mom!" Charles yelled back.

"And be NICE to your sister," Mr. Smith said, poking his head out of the kitchen.

Sara saw her mother had him cooking something. He had a spatula in his hand. He looked like a prisoner, too.

"Aye, aye, Captain," Charles said.

Mr. Smith rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Trash rushed up to Charles and started to jump around his legs, barking loudly.

"Good Boy, Trash Can! We're going outside!" Using only one hand, he managed to hook the leash around Trash's collar.

"But I don't want to go for a walk!" Sara said. She tried to hit him on the head, but he poked her in the side.

"I never said you were the one doing the walking," Charles snickered.

He shoved open the front door. He balanced Sara on his shoulder while keeping a firm grip on Trash's leash. "Attaboy, Trash Can. You miss me, or what? Mom's turning you into a girly dog. We're gonna make you run like a man!"

Sara groaned as her head bobbed up and down as Charles trudged along the sidewalk. "Why do you always insist on carrying me like this for ALL of my birthdays?" Sara asked.

She watched Trash sniff at a fire hydrant.

Sara cracked up. "You say that every time."

Charles pinched her arm. "Get used to it, Buttercup," he said.

A bright yellow car drove by. "ERIN! HELP!" Sara yelled.