Mason by Thomas Pendleton

bath of buttery sunlight. A dog— Lightning? —bounded in circles around the bed with a yellow tennis ball firmly grasped in his drooling jaws. At the foot of the bed sat Rene Denton, wearing a white dress she should have outgrown ten years ago. On the bed between Mason and Rene was a checked tablecloth with a picnic lunch laid out on it.
    Gene backed up a step. He convinced himself that he was dreaming. At some point, he must have fallen asleep in his room. Going down to the kitchen fororanges, his angry walk through the house, Mason’s room—all a dream.
    Gene took another look at his brother. Mason sat on the bed with his eyes closed. A deep frown began to pull down the edges of the doorknob’s mouth.
    Suddenly Gene was less comfortable with the fantastical surroundings.
    Mason’s head dipped lower.
    The golden retriever appeared in front of the bed. Its lips pulled back into a ferocious growl, though Gene heard no sound emerge. The dog— Could it really be Mason’s boyhood mutt? —crouched, readying its body to spring.
    Gene released a tiny groan from his throat before turning and hurrying down the hall. He reached his bedroom door and turned back to see if the dog was attacking. But it was nowhere to be seen.
    At the end of the hall, Mason stood framed in his doorway. He glared down the corridor at Gene.
    Is the doorknob actually angry?
    Did he find out that Denton’s in the hospital?
    No. Molly’s been shielding Mason from the news. He couldn’t know.
    But something’s buzzing in that soft head of his.
    It doesn’t matter. This is just a dream .
    Mason slammed the door, and Gene entered his room, wondering when he would wake up.

14
Pastels
    Aunt Molly woke Mason on Monday morning the way she always did, quietly calling his name from the door of his bedroom. Mason yawned and stretched. Aunt Molly told him his breakfast was ready and Mason said, “’Kay.” He was climbing out of bed when he remembered the mind picture of the park he’d drawn last night and the way Lightning had scared Gene.
    He saw the mind picture , Mason thought. I wonder what else I can make him see.
    Suddenly, he was terribly excited, like it was Christmas morning. He pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt and hurried toward the hall. Gene was there, standing in the doorway of his own bedroom, glaring silently. Mason paused. He wanted to show Gene a scary mind picture, but right now he was too excited to concentrate. He’d do it later if Gene did somethingmean to him. Besides, Mason was really hungry, so he just kept stomping along the corridor to the stairs, and when he reached them, he ran down.
    After wolfing down his breakfast and saying good-bye to Aunt Molly, who had to “dash to work,” Mason returned to his room. Instead of getting ready for school, he recalled the mind picture of the park. Sitting on his bed, he drew the soft, green grass and the blue sky with lots of sunlight. They appeared in the air around him. He imagined the picnic dishes and Rene and Lightning, and Mason settled into the picture, enjoying its warmth and security. For fun Mason thought of a butterfly, and moments later, one flitted through his room, its yellow-and-orange wings slapping at the sunny afternoon air. He laughed and swatted lazily at the bug he’d drawn with his mind.
    It was like television, only it was all around him, and Mason could play any picture he wanted. Only hours later, when he suddenly found himself hungry again, did Mason stop his game. He also realized that he’d missed half a day of school, and fingers of fear tickled his belly.
    You weren’t supposed to miss school. That was bad. Aunt Molly told him so.
    Worried about getting in trouble, Mason wasn’t quite so hungry, but he fixed himself a sandwich anyway. He ate the meal without tasting it, and the breadand bologna sat in his stomach like a rock. He’d missed school before. He couldn’t