Days of the Dead by Kersten Hamilton

Author:Kersten Hamilton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sky Pony Press
Published: 2018-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Lilith was her normal self by suppertime, ignoring everyone but Angus. Francis showed up with a huge bag of chayote and yellow squash from the garden he planted each spring. All summer long, we watched his corn wither, his tomatoes struggle and fail to climb out of the sand, and his squash somehow flourish. Francis left bags of it on every porch in the park with invitations to join a gardening party on Saturday mornings.

Papi was the only one who ever went to the party. He pulled tumbleweeds and goatheads, installed drip watering systems, and told Francis gardening in the desert was ridiculous. I wished he’d tell Francis that no one liked squash.

I set Francis’s bag by the back door where I didn’t have to look at it, then helped Alice finish setting the table.

“What a nice fish,” Francis said as we sat down.

Angus had insisted that Fido join us. The bowl was the centerpiece of the table. “Mmmph,” Papi said, passing me a bowl of his special broccoli in cheese sauce.

Angus rested his chin on his hands and stared at the fishbowl over the plate in front of him. He lifted his head.

“Does Fido have a skeleton?” he asked. The Halloween decorations going up in stores and windows had him worrying about Skeletoids again.

“Of course,” Lilith said. “So do you.”

“The teacher told me that.” He poked at his face, feeling the bones. “A long time ago.”

“Angus, why aren’t you eating?” Alice asked.

“I’m thinking,” Angus said. “Glory didn’t know there was a monster in the closet, but it came out. What if my skeleton comes out while I’m asleep? What if it walks around in the dark?”

“Your skeleton will not come out,” Francis assured him.

“How do you know?” Angus asked. “Did the aliens tell you? Lilith said you help bad guys and aliens, Francis. She said they should all be locked up.”

Francis looked at Lilith. She flushed and smashed a piece of lasagna with her fork.

“Somebody might get himself locked up.” Papi said. “Because he wants to be a saint.”

They must have been arguing again.

“I don’t want to be a saint.” It must have been a good argument, because Francis actually looked angry.

“Then what do you want?”

Angus looked from Francis to Papi. “I want to be a race truck,” he announced. “Trucks don’t have bones.”

“Eat your vegetables, Angus,” Alice said, giving Papi a look that said, See what you’ve done?

Angus pushed his plate away. “Trucks don’t eat vegetables.”

“Francis’s truck will,” I said. “It’s going to run on vegetable oil. And this broccoli is good.”

“The sauce is great, Greg,” Francis said, giving Alice an I’m-sorry glance. “Did you add something new?”

“No.” Papi said. “Just the same old recipe. Throw three kinds of cheese in the blender—”

A forkful of cheesy broccoli on its way to River’s mouth stopped so fast it left skid marks in the air.

“—with some Velveeta, blend well, then heat it up in the microwave.”

“There must be something new,” Alice said. “I’m sure it tastes different.”

I looked at the green-and-orange mess on my plate.

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