All Good Children - Catherine Austen [60]
“You have a nice home,” Bay says from behind me.
Mrs. Richmond smiles. “Who won the game?”
Bay scrunches his massive brow. “We did, I think.”
“Excellent.” She wanders toward the adults, her eyes glued to her screen.
Bay follows her. He tugs Coach Emery’s sleeve like a five-year-old giant. “We won the game, didn’t we, Coach?”
The coach stares at him for a moment before answering. “That’s right. We won.”
Brennan leads Bay to a corner armchair and sits with him in a green silence.
Dallas joins me on the couch. “Feeble party,” he whispers.
“We should fly,” I whisper back.
“I wish.” There’s a sadness in his voice that eats at me.
“Good game though,” I tell him. “I mean it. Good job.”
He doesn’t answer. We sit on the forest-green couch and hug the mint-green pillows. “Who do you think would win in a fight?” he whispers. “Bay as a zombie or Brennan as himself?”
“Shh.” I nod toward the doorway. “Austin’s home.”
Dallas shakes his head. “He won’t catch on. His class was done last week.”
“So he’s—?”
Dallas chews his brains.
Austin takes off his shoes and tucks them in a slot in the hall closet. He stores his hat on top and straightens his shirt before he enters the living room. His gaze roves around and stops on me. He smiles politely and approaches. “Hello, Maxwell. It’s nice to see you again.” No “Hey, faggot, come to ask me out?” No “Where’s your daddy, little orphan?”
“Hi, Austin. How are you?”
“Very well, thanks. Did you win your game?”
I’m waiting for the punch, or at least the punch line, but there is none. “Yes, we did.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t see it. I go to a homework club after school. We’re helping each other prepare for next year.”
“That’s premium.”
Austin smiles. “You two have fun.” He kisses his mother on the cheek, laughs at a joke his father makes, picks up the empty bottles and exits.
“He’s changed a bit,” I say.
Dallas’s eyes gleam. “Just a bit.”
His father’s voice carries across the room. “No more police visits for underground fighting. No more slutty girls sneaking over the back fence. No more constant arguments.” He points at the couch and says, “And with the other one, there’s no more detention or loud music or faggot Christmas productions.”
His mom chimes in. “And they eat whatever I make for dinner with no complaints.”
Coach Emery smiles politely. Dr. Richmond laughs until he chokes on his whisky.
Dallas hugs his pillow and stares at me. “So who do you think would win in a fight, Max? Us or the rest of the world?”
TWELVE
I hide in the tent with the Freakshow finale on my RIG and grow depressed watching Zipperhead haul his massive skull around the stage. I wonder what life was like for him growing up in Freaktown without surveillance cameras or Blackboard networks or nosy nurses.
Mom peeks around the front flaps. “Is Ally in here?”
“Don’t touch that wall. It’s still wet.”
“Why aren’t you doing your homework?” She grabs my RIG and dissolves the screen.
“I’m watching that!”
She kneels in front of me and takes my face in her hands.
“You have to do your homework or you’ll be revaccinated.”
I shrug and stare at the messy sheets draped over the furniture.
“I know you’re tired,” she says.
“You don’t know anything about it.” I take my RIG from her hand and turn the show back on.
Ally pops up from behind the couch, wearing her earpiece and singing, “Pussycat ate the dumplings, Pussycat ate the dumplings. Mama stood by and cried, ‘Oh fie! Why did you eat the dumplings?’” She giggles and claps.
“Get to bed,” Mom tells her. “And don’t sneak out again.”
“You too,” I tell Mom. A commercial comes on for a fertility drug, and I absentmindedly pick at my patch.
She puts her hand on mine. “Don’t give up, Max.”
I shove her hand away. “But I’d eat and sleep and take up hobbies.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“You