All Good Children - Catherine Austen [62]
“Are you serious? Because my mom would take us. She already said she would.”
Dallas wipes his nose. “Count me in.” He stares at me hard, trembling with exhaustion. “Even if they get me. Pack me up and take me with you. Don’t leave me here with them.”
I envision Mom driving out of town and Dallas racing after us with a hundred zombies on his heels. “I won’t leave you here.”
He nods, over and over again. He only stops when they announce this season’s winning freak. “Squid?” he whispers in surprise.
Zipperhead hangs his massive head to hide his tears. It’s hard to see why he would bother to lift it up again.
I swear and moan. “Life isn’t fair.”
“I always knew that,” Dallas says. “I just thought mine would be better.”
Ally wakes me up the next morning. “Time for school.”
I look at my watch. “Shit.” I stayed up painting all night, and I’m a mess. I rush into some pants and smooth my hair as best I can. I walk as quickly as I dare down the hallway. “Do you have a lunch?” I whisper. She nods. Thank god Mom doesn’t rely on me.
We arrive late in the lobby. I fake a limp. Seven kids are gathered to walk to the trade school. “I’m sorry,” I tell them. “I tripped on my weak ankle and re-sprained it. I hope I haven’t made you late for school.”
Lucas bows his head. “We understand. Your mother works in the early mornings and you have no father, so you have to do things for yourself.”
I nod. “I enjoy doing things for myself. But I can be slow.”
He checks his watch. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”
I limp all the way back to the apartment.
At school, I keep my nose to the grindstone as the minutes tick by. I don’t feel safe until I’m back at home. I pull Mom inside the tent. “Dallas says he’ll come with us to Atlanta. We have to go soon, though, before he loses it. They’re still fighting the ids down there, right?”
She shrugs. “I think so. No one asked for ours except at the airport.”
“Good. Then we just have to get there without flying.”
“They’d probably ask at the speed rail too,” Mom says. “But maybe we could find a private car.”
“Can we take him with us?”
“Who, Dallas? I guess so.”
“You can’t go back on this.”
“All right. Yes. We can take him with us.”
“Is it illegal to leave New Middletown?”
“No. I don’t think so.” She sighs and nods repeatedly. It’s a habit everyone is picking up these days.
I walk Ally to the park in twilight. A few fat adults are heading home from work, all bundled up. A few skinny ones jog by in caps and T-shirts. Ally and I turn toward the park. “Hey, they put up a fence!” I say. It’s not a real fence, just an orange plastic weave tacked onto temporary posts five feet high.
“Is it closed?” Ally asks.
“Looks like it. Wait. There’s a sign.” I read aloud, “Public Notice. This playground is temporarily closed due to the—” I shut my mouth.
“To what?” Ally asks. “Due to what?”
I shiver like a ghost walked through me. The swings tremble in the breeze.
Ally steps in front of me to read the sign. She sounds out the words. “Due to the Rodent Central—”
“Control,” I correct.
“Rodent Control Program,” she continues. “In response to the virtual—”
“Viral.”
“Viral outbreak at New Middletown Manor Hegs—”
“Heights.”
She looks up and smiles. “That’s where Mommy works.”
“Let’s go, Ally.”
She doesn’t budge. “It says the park is closed for six weeks. I can’t stay away from Peanut for six weeks. She’ll be hungry.”
I stare at the black lumps scattered over the playground and I don’t know what to tell my sister.
“That’s the poison symbol,” she says, pointing at the sign.
I nod. “That’s right. We can’t go in there because there’s poison. Let’s go home.”
She won’t leave. She stares at the lumps that aren’t dirt. “They put poison in the park?” She frowns and squints. “Won’t that hurt the squirrels?”
The scene suddenly makes sense to her. She utters a choking sound and tries to pull down the fence. “Somebody poisoned the squirrels!” she shouts. The plastic slices into her fingers.
I pull her off it, grip my arms