The Graham Cracker Plot by Shelley Tougas Page A

private,” I said.
    â€œC’mon. I don’t have a dad who writes to me. I don’t have a dad at all. Read it.”
    â€œYour dad might send you things if he knew you existed. He’d probably take you to baseball games and send you checks every week. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know about you. It’s your mom’s fault. She shouldn’t have dates with men she doesn’t know anything about.”
    Graham snorted. “Thanks, Dr. Daisy. Just read it.”
    â€œFine.” I sat up so the moonlight lit up the page. “I like looking at a few pages, in bed, when it’s dark. Not when it’s quiet because River Estates is never quiet.”
    â€œRight,” Graham said. “Roaring car engines, slamming doors, blaring T Vs.”
    â€œDon’t forget the drunks,” I said. “But don’t you get used to the sounds? Eventually all that noise kind of rocks me to sleep.”
    â€œI run a fan. Tunes it out pretty nice.” Graham shifted closer to me and the book.
    I showed Graham the writing on the inside cover. Then I read it.
    A special quote just for you: “Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad.” Your dad is gone for a while but never forgotten. Hang on to your memories, buddy.
    Graham took the book and squinted at the signature. He said, “It’s not from the Chemist! It says, Sincerely, Alex. ”
    Graham flopped on his back. “So you’ve got two dads. What do you have to complain about? Give Alex to my mom. I’d take a stepdad like that.”
    â€œIf you like being left with a neighbor while he runs off to Mexico with your mom.”
    My eyes squinted, and the words blurred. From my head to my toes, I was tired, more tired than I’d ever been. I yawned. “Just put it away. I’m so tired.”
    â€œI will. I’m just gonna look at it for a while,” Graham whispered.
    The pillow felt like a feather cradle. I sniffed the blanket. It smelled like the laundry sheets in the Powder Fresh box. Nice. Warm.
    I hoped the world outside the River Estates Mobile Home Park glimmered and smelled Powder Fresh. In that world, every kid would know their dad and the Rattlesnake Bar and Grill would be the Rattlesnake Carnival. I slipped into the dream, the big beautiful dream, when Graham ripped a long rumbling fart.
    He laughed. I laughed, too. We giggled until Ashley lifted her head and asked what was so funny and would we please stop.
    Finally I closed my eyes, Graham on one side of me, still looking at my Daddies and Daughters book, and Ashley on the couch. I liked the three of us.
    My mind swirled right through the tired part. What if tomorrow was a failure—it wouldn’t be, but if it was—would there still be a three of us?

 
    Â 
    THE THIRD PART

 
    DEAR JUDGE HENRY,
    I will tell you three things about waking up to the sound of barking and puking.
    Number one: When marshmallows return from a dog’s stomach, they come up slimy and whole . Not one single tooth mark.
    Number two: Dog puke is slippery. Graham learned that when he looked out the window near Fred, who was barking and heaving on the floor. Graham landed flat on his back in marshmallow puke.
    Number three: When Fred barks and growls and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he jumps at the door, it’s his way of saying, “Holy crap. There’s a guy outside.”
    In fact, it was also Graham’s way of saying it. From the floor he shouted, “Holy crap! There’s a guy outside!” A car door slammed. I belly-crawled to the other side of the couch and peeked through the curtain.
    Not only was he a guy, he was a teenage guy. He walked around the escape car, checking it out. The back door was still wide open. He picked out the wet map, which fell apart in his hand.
    â€œWake up.” I threw a pillow at Ashley’s head.
    Her eyes popped open. “I’m