The Walls Have Eyes by Clare B. Dunkle Page B

cry.
    â€œNah, I didn’t tell her. She thinks you’re her hero, talking the parents into sending her off to school. I guess a little kid like her still needs heroes.”
    Dad nodded. “Even if they’re not real.”
    Martin didn’t know what else to say. He opened Dad’s tackle box and examined the lures while Dad went on casting and reeling. “How’s the fishing?” Martin asked after a while.
    â€œNot so good,” Dad admitted. “It’s the wrong time of day, maybe. I’ll try a few more tricks and call it quits.”
    â€œWell, I guess I’ll head on back,” Martin said, “and, you know, go help Mom.”
    Dad glanced at his watch. “I’ll be along in a few minutes. We’ll have an early lunch.”
    Martin headed up the hill to the house. He wasn’t sure how he felt. More than anything else, he felt sad and embarrassed, as if Dad’s weakness were part of him now. Dad’s crime had become his because he couldn’t condemn it anymore. He was an accomplice. Guilt by understanding.
    But our house isn’t so bad, he thought as he tromped through the weeds in the front yard. I like that it looks like a shoebox. And David and Matt would be so jealous if they knew we had a house with our very own skeleton.
    A sweeping session with bundled twigs had cleared the faery dust out of the entryway and revealed a floor of black-and-white marble tiles. “Look, Chip,” he said, pointing them out. “That’s almost as nice as the factory.”
    A second later, he came charging down the hill again, with Chip howling behind him.
    â€œDad! Dad!” he yelled. “Something’s wrong with Mom!”

CHAPTER TEN
    Mom lay on the caramel-colored tiles of the sunny living room. Dad knelt beside her while Martin ran to the kitchen to bring her a water bottle.
    â€œThanks,” she said, taking a sip. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Dad asked. “Martin, did you see what happened?”
    â€œShe fell,” Martin said.
    â€œI feel fine. Just a little dizzy.” Mom waved Martin back. “Stop hovering! I’m not made of glass. Get out of the way so I can get up.”
    Mom clutched Dad’s arm as she got to her feet and cautiously released her grip. “There. See? I told you I was fine.”
    Dad’s face lit up in relief. “You don’t hurt anywhere? Why don’t you sit down? You’ve been working too hard. Not enough water, maybe that fish from last night . . .”
    Mom took two steps and fell headlong with a cry. Chip let out a howl.
    â€œSee?” Martin said. “That’s just what happened before!”
    Dad shoved Chip aside as he threw himself onto his knees. “Martin, would you get that dumb dog out of here?”
    Mom lay with her eyes closed. After a few seconds, they opened. “What am I doing down here?”
    â€œYou fell,” Martin told her.
    â€œTris, can you remember if you hit your head?”
    â€œI’m fine,” Mom said with a trace of irritation this time.“Really, you two!” She climbed awkwardly to her feet.
    This time, Dad caught her when she fell.
    â€œShut that dog up! Martin, grab your bedroll. Hurry! She’s heavy.”
    â€œI heard that,” Mom said.
    Dad lowered her onto the bedroll and helped Martin prop her head up on a folded sheet. “This time, Tris, you need to stay there.”
    Mom blinked at their anxious faces. “Maybe I am tired,” she conceded. “I haven’t been getting much sleep.”
    â€œMartin, let’s let your mother get some rest. Tris, you take a little nap.”
    Dad escorted Martin and Chip through the front door. Then he shut it and sank down on the front steps. Martin was astonished at the change that had come over his father. Dad seemed to have aged several years.
    â€œTen minutes after,” Dad said. Then he