Baylor's Guide to Dreadful Dreams by Robert Imfeld

Author:Robert Imfeld
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

TIP

15

TV stardom isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

JACK LOOKED ON IN HORROR, but Ella continued to slap her potatoes and peas in pure baby bliss, much to my jealousy.

“Jack and Ella are normal,” I said, wishing I could erase this moment from Jack’s mind.

“Ah, so you admit you’re not normal,” Uncle Horty said pointedly, his rectangular head leaning in.

“No, that’s not what I meant at all,” I said.

“Horty,” my dad said, gripping the edge of the table, “I’m going to ask—”

“You’re not about to give me another black eye, are you, Dougy?” Horty asked. “We wouldn’t want to open that can of worms again, would we?”

My dad swallowed hard, his face burning bright red. Before he could respond, though, Mom stood up.

“Enough,” she growled, wobbling slightly as she put her arms on the kitchen table and leaned forward to Horty, the light from the candles dancing around her face. “Enough! I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving dinner at my house”—she pounded her chest—“and I have to sit here and listen to you! You, of all people! I didn’t even want you here. My poor friend Karen and her son are sitting alone in their house right now eating pizza, and you’re sitting here, ungrateful, smug, with your family, in my house, insulting my children?” She shook her head, kicking off her shoes. “No. Nope. That is not how this going to go. Glenn, grab him.”

Horty had been listening to her speech with an odd triumphant smirk, but his face suddenly fell in confusion as Glenn, unsure of what his sister meant, grabbed Horty by his arm and looked helplessly at his sister.

“Everyone, grab a piece of him, please,” she sang. “The more the merrier.” Dad grabbed his other arm, Grandpa By took hold of the back of his neck, and even Grandma Renee snuck in and pinched his shirt collar. He started to protest—“You can’t be serious? What are you doing?”—but no one listened.

“Outside,” she said, grabbing Horty’s plate and marching barefoot down the hall. “Follow me. Baylor, grab their car keys from the counter.”

I ran to the kitchen to find the keys and caught up with them as they led him out the front door, down the driveway, and back to the car he had such difficulties freeing himself from earlier. Mom took the keys, unlocked the car, and opened the back door.

“What are you doing to him?” asked Gillie. I couldn’t tell whether she was concerned or having the time of her life. Oli stood next to her, looking like he was about to cry but smart enough to know it was not the time to protest.

“Inside,” Mom said, glaring at Horty. “Buckle him up in the middle seat.” Her feet must have been freezing on the pavement, but she stood there defiantly as my dad and Glenn settled him inside the car.

“This is wildly immature,” he yelled helplessly as the men finished up. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

Mom stuck her torso in the driver’s seat, turned on the ignition, and said, “I’ll get the heat going.

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