raining.”
Ryan grabbed his trousers, glad to be among the awake.
“Come on! I’ll miss a test, fail eighth grade, never recover, and become a junkie. Do you want that on your head?”
Katarina was sitting in the hallway opposite his room when Ryan stepped out the door.
Ryan said, “Are we late?”
“A smidge.” She stood and handed Ryan her backpack.
Ryan ran down the stairs and Katarina launched down the banister—a slope of polished oak. The two of them reached the bottom at the same time. Ryan caught her around the waist, kept going, and pretended like he was going to ram her head in thedoor. Katarina let out a high-pitched shriek. Ryan set her on her feet and pretended to dust off her shoulders.
Once they were in the car, Ryan told Katarina that he might be going to Texas for business.
She said, “Business? Is there a city there that needs you to water their plants?”
“Yeah, watering plants is the next big thing, sort of like the Internet.” The old Probe stuttered and threatened to stall in the long, slow procession of minivans depositing eighth graders at the school entrance.
Katarina stared straight ahead.
“It seems like the only way I can get my shit together and see my son again.”
“You don’t even know your son.”
“Thanks for reminding me of that.” He elbowed her. “Too bad I know you.”
“You wish.”
E mmy was finally visiting her brother in Petaluma. This time, at least he’d pretended that he wanted to see her. She would reward any positive step, no matter how small—sort of like domesticating a dingo. Besides, she was curious.
As her car climbed the hill to the black-and-red Victorian, she caught herself laughing. Dodge must have blackmailed one of the ladies on the Heritage Homes Committee into allowing those colors. She could picture him hiring a private investigator to turn up some ancient dirt and then threatening to “go public.” Dodge, please. Why did he work so hard to suppress his innate decency?
She parked, and when she was halfway up the porch stairs, the door opened. Dodge waited at the threshold in a ratty beige sweater, the frown lines etched into his cheeks cracked into a smile, and all at once she felt like a five-year-old.
“You’re going to love McNear. He’s like an overgrown leprechaun. You’ll want to pack him up and take him home.”
“Dodge, I’m here to see
you
.” Walking through the living room and down the hall, Emmy looked back. He was older and fatter and balder than the last time she’d seen him. At least he’d quit smoking.
In the kitchen, Emmy turned on a burner under an old iron kettle, and Dodge assembled an antique bone china tea set—thevery tea set their grandmother had given the two of them when Emmy was three and Dodge was eighteen.
They talked about their parents, still living in Los Angeles, still in need of help around the house and too proud to admit it, and still sending Emmy a card every month telling her how proud they were. Maybe that was it. Maybe she worshipped her mean old brother out of guilt. The second she was born, all attention had focused on the brilliant baby girl. Dodge must have been jealous, but then, Dodge had lavished more attention on her than either of their parents.
Dodge snickered. “I have a brilliant plan to make a ton of money. Are you in?”
“Dodge, please be nice to the other children.”
“You’ll love this caper. It’s right up your alley.” The kettle whistled, and Dodge hopped out of his chair cackling like a yenta with fresh gossip. “We’re going to screw a bunch of fundamentalist right-wing Bible-thumpers and help a really decent guy put his life together.” He poured tea into their cups. “Creation Energy is about to get major corporate funding. They’ll have the resources to sell the public on bogus science. You think it’s tough to get intelligent design out of the schools? Wait until the Department of Energy starts investing in Creation and the
Ryan grabbed his trousers, glad to be among the awake.
“Come on! I’ll miss a test, fail eighth grade, never recover, and become a junkie. Do you want that on your head?”
Katarina was sitting in the hallway opposite his room when Ryan stepped out the door.
Ryan said, “Are we late?”
“A smidge.” She stood and handed Ryan her backpack.
Ryan ran down the stairs and Katarina launched down the banister—a slope of polished oak. The two of them reached the bottom at the same time. Ryan caught her around the waist, kept going, and pretended like he was going to ram her head in thedoor. Katarina let out a high-pitched shriek. Ryan set her on her feet and pretended to dust off her shoulders.
Once they were in the car, Ryan told Katarina that he might be going to Texas for business.
She said, “Business? Is there a city there that needs you to water their plants?”
“Yeah, watering plants is the next big thing, sort of like the Internet.” The old Probe stuttered and threatened to stall in the long, slow procession of minivans depositing eighth graders at the school entrance.
Katarina stared straight ahead.
“It seems like the only way I can get my shit together and see my son again.”
“You don’t even know your son.”
“Thanks for reminding me of that.” He elbowed her. “Too bad I know you.”
“You wish.”
E mmy was finally visiting her brother in Petaluma. This time, at least he’d pretended that he wanted to see her. She would reward any positive step, no matter how small—sort of like domesticating a dingo. Besides, she was curious.
As her car climbed the hill to the black-and-red Victorian, she caught herself laughing. Dodge must have blackmailed one of the ladies on the Heritage Homes Committee into allowing those colors. She could picture him hiring a private investigator to turn up some ancient dirt and then threatening to “go public.” Dodge, please. Why did he work so hard to suppress his innate decency?
She parked, and when she was halfway up the porch stairs, the door opened. Dodge waited at the threshold in a ratty beige sweater, the frown lines etched into his cheeks cracked into a smile, and all at once she felt like a five-year-old.
“You’re going to love McNear. He’s like an overgrown leprechaun. You’ll want to pack him up and take him home.”
“Dodge, I’m here to see
you
.” Walking through the living room and down the hall, Emmy looked back. He was older and fatter and balder than the last time she’d seen him. At least he’d quit smoking.
In the kitchen, Emmy turned on a burner under an old iron kettle, and Dodge assembled an antique bone china tea set—thevery tea set their grandmother had given the two of them when Emmy was three and Dodge was eighteen.
They talked about their parents, still living in Los Angeles, still in need of help around the house and too proud to admit it, and still sending Emmy a card every month telling her how proud they were. Maybe that was it. Maybe she worshipped her mean old brother out of guilt. The second she was born, all attention had focused on the brilliant baby girl. Dodge must have been jealous, but then, Dodge had lavished more attention on her than either of their parents.
Dodge snickered. “I have a brilliant plan to make a ton of money. Are you in?”
“Dodge, please be nice to the other children.”
“You’ll love this caper. It’s right up your alley.” The kettle whistled, and Dodge hopped out of his chair cackling like a yenta with fresh gossip. “We’re going to screw a bunch of fundamentalist right-wing Bible-thumpers and help a really decent guy put his life together.” He poured tea into their cups. “Creation Energy is about to get major corporate funding. They’ll have the resources to sell the public on bogus science. You think it’s tough to get intelligent design out of the schools? Wait until the Department of Energy starts investing in Creation and the
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