training accent,” Balinda said. “Put some authority in your voice.”
Kevin stared at them. It had been a long time since he’d seen them like this. They’d slipped into their role-playing on the fly. For the moment he didn’t even exist. It was hard to imagine he grew up with these two.
Eugene stood as tall as his short frame would allow and expanded his chest. “I say, dog! To the kennel or the whip it’ll be. Be gone! Be thou gone immeeediately!”
“Don’t just stand there; go after him like you mean it!” Balinda snapped. “And I really don’t think thou is appropriate with an animal. Growl or something!”
Eugene crouched and took several long steps toward the dog, growling like a bear.
“Not like an animal, you idiot!” Balinda said. “You look foolish! He’s the animal; you’re the master. Act like one. Growl like a man! Like a ruler.”
Eugene pulled himself up again and thrust out an arm, snarling like a villain. “Back in the cage, you foul-mouthed vermin!” he cried hoarsely.
Damon whimpered and ran back into his house.
“Ha!” Eugene stood up, triumphant.
Balinda clapped and giggled, delighted. “You see, didn’t I tell you? Princess knows—”
A muffled explosion suddenly lifted the doghouse a foot into the air and dropped it back to the ground.
They stood, Balinda at the corner, Bob in the window, Eugene by the porch, and Kevin in the middle of the yard, staring with incredulity at the smoldering doghouse.
Kevin could not move. Damon?
Balinda took a step forward and stopped. “Wha . . . what was that?”
“Damon?” Kevin ran for the doghouse. “Damon!”
He knew before he arrived that the dog was dead. Blood quickly darkened the ash at the door. He looked in and immediately recoiled. Bile crept up his throat. How was it possible? Tears sprang into his eyes.
A screech filled the air. He looked back to see Balinda flying for the doghouse, face stricken, arms outstretched. He jumped back to avoid her rush. On the porch, Eugene was pacing and mumbling incoherently. Bob had his face planted on the window, wide-eyed.
Balinda took one look into Damon’s smoking house and then staggered back. Eugene stopped and watched her. Kevin’s mind spun. But it wasn’t Damon that now made him dizzy. It was Princess. Not Princess—Mother!
No! No, not Princess, not Mother, not even Auntie! Balinda. The poor sick hag who’d sucked the life out of him.
She turned to Kevin, eyes black with hate. “You!” she screamed. “You did this!”
“No, Mother!” She’s not your Mother! Not Mother.
“I—”
“Shut your lying mouth! We hate you!” She flung her arm toward the gate. “Get out!”
“You don’t mean that . . .” Stop it, Kevin! What do you care if she hates you? Get out.
Balinda balled both hands to fists, dropped them to her sides, and tilted her head back. “Leave! Leave, leave, leave!” she screamed, eyes clenched.
Eugene joined in, chanting with her in a falsetto voice, mimicking her stance. “Leave, leave, leave, leave!”
Kevin left. Without daring to look at what Bob might be doing, he whirled around and fled for his car.
6
T HE AIR IS STUFFY. Too hot for such a cool day. Richard Slater, as he has decided to call himself this time, strips out of his clothes and hangs them in the one closet beside the desk. He crosses the dark basement in his bare feet, pulls open the old chest freezer, and takes out two ice cubes. Not really cubes—they are frozen into small balls instead of squares. He found the unusual ice trays in a stranger’s refrigerator once and decided to take them. They are wonderful.
Slater walks into the center of the room and sits down on the concrete. A large white clock on the wall ticks quietly. It’s 4:47 . He will call Kevin in three minutes, unless Kevin himself makes a phone call, in which case he’ll remotely terminate the connection and then call Kevin back. Short of that, he wants to give Kevin a little time to digest
Kevin stared at them. It had been a long time since he’d seen them like this. They’d slipped into their role-playing on the fly. For the moment he didn’t even exist. It was hard to imagine he grew up with these two.
Eugene stood as tall as his short frame would allow and expanded his chest. “I say, dog! To the kennel or the whip it’ll be. Be gone! Be thou gone immeeediately!”
“Don’t just stand there; go after him like you mean it!” Balinda snapped. “And I really don’t think thou is appropriate with an animal. Growl or something!”
Eugene crouched and took several long steps toward the dog, growling like a bear.
“Not like an animal, you idiot!” Balinda said. “You look foolish! He’s the animal; you’re the master. Act like one. Growl like a man! Like a ruler.”
Eugene pulled himself up again and thrust out an arm, snarling like a villain. “Back in the cage, you foul-mouthed vermin!” he cried hoarsely.
Damon whimpered and ran back into his house.
“Ha!” Eugene stood up, triumphant.
Balinda clapped and giggled, delighted. “You see, didn’t I tell you? Princess knows—”
A muffled explosion suddenly lifted the doghouse a foot into the air and dropped it back to the ground.
They stood, Balinda at the corner, Bob in the window, Eugene by the porch, and Kevin in the middle of the yard, staring with incredulity at the smoldering doghouse.
Kevin could not move. Damon?
Balinda took a step forward and stopped. “Wha . . . what was that?”
“Damon?” Kevin ran for the doghouse. “Damon!”
He knew before he arrived that the dog was dead. Blood quickly darkened the ash at the door. He looked in and immediately recoiled. Bile crept up his throat. How was it possible? Tears sprang into his eyes.
A screech filled the air. He looked back to see Balinda flying for the doghouse, face stricken, arms outstretched. He jumped back to avoid her rush. On the porch, Eugene was pacing and mumbling incoherently. Bob had his face planted on the window, wide-eyed.
Balinda took one look into Damon’s smoking house and then staggered back. Eugene stopped and watched her. Kevin’s mind spun. But it wasn’t Damon that now made him dizzy. It was Princess. Not Princess—Mother!
No! No, not Princess, not Mother, not even Auntie! Balinda. The poor sick hag who’d sucked the life out of him.
She turned to Kevin, eyes black with hate. “You!” she screamed. “You did this!”
“No, Mother!” She’s not your Mother! Not Mother.
“I—”
“Shut your lying mouth! We hate you!” She flung her arm toward the gate. “Get out!”
“You don’t mean that . . .” Stop it, Kevin! What do you care if she hates you? Get out.
Balinda balled both hands to fists, dropped them to her sides, and tilted her head back. “Leave! Leave, leave, leave!” she screamed, eyes clenched.
Eugene joined in, chanting with her in a falsetto voice, mimicking her stance. “Leave, leave, leave, leave!”
Kevin left. Without daring to look at what Bob might be doing, he whirled around and fled for his car.
6
T HE AIR IS STUFFY. Too hot for such a cool day. Richard Slater, as he has decided to call himself this time, strips out of his clothes and hangs them in the one closet beside the desk. He crosses the dark basement in his bare feet, pulls open the old chest freezer, and takes out two ice cubes. Not really cubes—they are frozen into small balls instead of squares. He found the unusual ice trays in a stranger’s refrigerator once and decided to take them. They are wonderful.
Slater walks into the center of the room and sits down on the concrete. A large white clock on the wall ticks quietly. It’s 4:47 . He will call Kevin in three minutes, unless Kevin himself makes a phone call, in which case he’ll remotely terminate the connection and then call Kevin back. Short of that, he wants to give Kevin a little time to digest
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