"Ready?"

"No, wait!"

"C'mon. One, two—"

"No!" the boy shrieked, his blond haired head shaking vigorously. He stared at the blurry chair where his glasses lie, then at the sloshing water. "I'm not ready. I'm… scared."

"Then hold my hand." The seven year-old grinned, brushing a sopping strand of pink hair out of her eyes, and snatched the blond's hand. "We'll count to thirteen."

The boy looked at her hand, blushing slightly, then asked, "Why thirteen?"

"Because I don't believe in bad luck. On thirteen?"

He hesitated. "On thirteen..."

They counted, then jumped. The splash wasn't as loud as their following gasps and laughter.