Angie's house is only a half-mile away. When they get there, her mother is pulling into the driveway with the eight-year-old boys in tow, who pop out of the car and peer at "John" like a pair of owls.

"Hi, guys," Angie calls. "This is John. John, this is my mom, Mrs. Webber, and my brothers Isaac, and Joshua." She points; the boys are fraternal and easily distinguished.