Ghosts and Other Lovers by Lisa Tuttle

when all at once my sister sat bolt upright.
    "It's not fair," she said. "It's not time for bed; it's not. Everybody else is still out. I'll bet you the Kellermans are still playing Fox-and-Hounds. Let's go out."
    "We're in our pajamas," I said.
    "So? In China people wear their pajamas all the time; that's the only kind of clothes they have. Anyway, you've been out in your pajamas before."
    "They won't let us."
    "They won't know ," she said. "We're going to escape." She suddenly leaped up and onto my bed. I squealed, pulling in my legs to protect my stomach, but Jean had no intention of tickling me. She'd only come onto my bed to open the window. I watched, thrilled and baffled. Warm air and the scent of freshly cut grass slipped into the room.
    "What are you going to do ?"
    "I told you. Escape. I'm going exploring. Do you want to come, or are you going to stay here like a baby and sleep?"
    Jean and I lived with our parents in a three-bedroom, one-story house in Beverly Oaks, a suburban subdivision of Houston. It was a desirable, middle-class neighborhood, which had been built soon after the war. The houses -- all single-family dwellings! -- had attached two-car garages and well-kept lawns and gardens. I had lived there all my life, apart from three days in a downtown hospital when I was born. I knew nothing else. But Jean had spent her first two and a half years in a mysterious place called "the country" on the farm where our grandmother had lived. Grandmother had died, and the farm had been sold, before I was born. I envied Jean that other life I could never know, and I believed she explored the tame suburban streets around us in search of some secret way back to the country. I thought she might find it, too, and I wanted to be with her when she did.
    Perched on the windowsill, Jean looked at me, still snug in my bed. She said, "Maybe you'd better not come. It could be dangerous. If somebody saw us -- if you weren't careful enough -- if you didn't run fast enough--"
    I sat up. "I will!"
    She shook her head.
    "Oh, please!" I said. My sleepiness, my fears, my doubts were forgotten; all in the world I wanted was to follow my big sister. Whatever she wanted, I wanted, too.
    "You'll have to do exactly what I say."
    "Yes, yes!"
    "All right, then. Come on. And keep quiet ."
    Out the window and onto the grass, cool on my bare feet. Jean gripped my shoulder and her voice buzzed in my ear: "Through the Mishners'. If they see us, act normal. Don't rush, but don't stop. Just wave at them and keep on walking."
    The Mishners didn't have a fence, so walking through their back yard was the quickest way to get to the alley: it was a shortcut we often took, but with the risk of being captured, for they were an elderly couple always on the lookout for someone, anyone, to interrupt their boredom.
    But that evening, fortunately, they were not in sight, and we passed through in safety.
    I watched Jean admiringly as I struggled to keep up with her. She was the great explorer, alert to everything, sniffing the air and looking around at familiar fences, gardens, and backs of houses we passed.
    When we emerged from the alley onto Warburton Drive, Jean turned left without hesitation. This way would lead us to the bigger houses, the more expensive part of the subdivision. There were a couple of houses over there with swimming pools, and one was known as "the house with the bomb shelter." Jean had told me stories, too, and I remembered one about a fabulous playhouse, full of wonderful toys, built by a wealthy couple for grandchildren who visited them only once a year. If we could find it, we could play there undisturbed.
    I grabbed Jean's arm. "Are we going to look for the playhouse?"
    "What playhouse? What are you talking about? Don't you know where we are?"
    Her tone of voice informed me that we were in the middle of an adventure. I shook my head meekly. "I forgot."
    "We're in China. We've just crossed the Gobi Desert. Everyone else on the expedition