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When Layla pushes the door open, pokes her head into her brothers' room, she's suddenly glad for her silence: she knows Geisel hates it when people laugh at him, and he looks so silly with his long green coat dragging the ground - almost as silly as Berger looks with his settling high up on his shins. Although, maybe it's all right to laugh, if it's a game?
Are you playing? she asks, coming closer, tilting her head to peer at them. They're both breathing hard; it must be a good game. I want to play, she decides, and jumps onto the bed behind them, putting a little phase into it for extra height so that she'll bounce.
"Uh," Geisel says, and laughs awkwardly; Berger rubs his face with his hand.
Let's play! Layla insists. Show me the rules.
"Later," Berger says, and tugs lightly at one of her braids, making her frown. "What did you want?"
She's forgotten, but she doesn't want to admit it. Lonely.
They exchange looks over her head, but if they're talking privately, she doesn't really mind, because they don't make her leave.