Chapter VII —  The Castle That Couldn’t Burn

Summer 2000

Late Afternoon The yard smelled of cut grass and sun-warmed dirt, the kind of scent that clung to your clothes until nightfall. Dereck knelt in the brittle shade of the back porch, his hands folding and creasing pages he had pulled from one of Rose’s old magazines. The paper bent stubbornly, never quite straight, but he persisted. Precision mattered to him—even here, especially here. Noah sprawled beside him, freckles sharp in the light, dragging a crayon across cardboard. He wasn’t helping so much as inventing. Every few minutes he announced something: “This tower needs a flag,” or “What if dragons come?” His mind refused borders; the castle was never finished because it was always growing. Sarah sat cross-legged, a plastic tiara askew in her hair, her fingers pressing tape to the seams that wouldn’t hold. She watched both brothers with the patience of someone younger but older all at once. Where Dereck demanded order and Noah demanded color, she tried to make them coexist. “Paper doesn’t make walls,” Dereck muttered, adjusting a crease again. “It collapses.” “Not if you believe in it,” Noah shot back, grinning without looking up. Sarah smoothed a flap with her palm. “It doesn’t have to stand forever. Just long enough.” The structure grew crooked but proud—towers leaning like tired shoulders, a gate marked in crayon. Tape shone in strips across the walls like scars refusing to fade. They named it without ceremony: The Castle That Couldn’t Burn. Dereck circled it once, frowning, then nodded as though approving a blueprint. Noah blew air through a paper roll and called it a trumpet. Sarah placed a single stone at the entrance, a pebble from Rose’s flowerbed. “Every kingdom needs a guard,”she said. Evening slipped in, painting the sky with long copper strokes. Rose called them for dinner, her voice carrying through the screen door. They ignored her for another minute, staring at what they had built. The castle was fragile, absurd, impossible—and yet it stood, catching the last light like it had earned it. Dereck thought it should be stronger. Noah thought it should be taller. Sarah only thought it was theirs. When they finally went inside, the paper walls trembled in the breeze. The pebble guard remained at his post. And though the castle sagged and leaned, it refused to fall, holding its place in the dark until the stars came out.