Saturday Boy by David Fleming

Author:David Fleming
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-05-29T04:00:00+00:00

WE DIDN’T EAT DINNER that night. Nobody thought to make it and I didn’t think any of us were hungry anyway. Mom went from kneeling in the living room to sitting in the kitchen. The phone rang a lot and after a while Aunt Josie stopped answering it. I think she may have gotten tired of me asking her who it was.

“It’s people who heard about your dad calling to say how sorry they are,” she said.

“Why are they sorry?” I asked. “They didn’t do it.”

“It’s called sympathy, Derek,” she said. “They feel bad for us because we lost your dad.”

“But we didn’t lose Dad,” I said.

“Oh, Derek.” Aunt Josie blinked a few times fast. If she was trying to hold back tears it didn’t work. “You do know he’s . . . gone. You understand what that means, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s not lost.”

“Derek, sweetheart, yes he is.”

“No, he’s not. He was lost,” I said. “But then they found him. He was in a cave.”

“That’s different.”

“No it’s not. Lost is when you don’t know where something is. We know where Dad is. So he’s not lost.”

Aunt Josie sat back in her chair and wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingers. Mom cleared her throat and spoke. Her voice was soft but even.

“Isn’t your show on now, Piggy?”

“What show?”

“With the special episode? Zeroguy?”

“You mean Zeroman?”

“That’s it.”

“Aren’t I still punished?”

“You’ve been punished enough.”

Her face was pale in the kitchen light. Except for her eyes, which were red with dark circles underneath. She started to smile but stopped. Maybe she realized it was stupid to smile and pretend everything was okay when we both knew it wasn’t.

“Why don’t you go to the living room and watch your show, okay?”

“Can I just go to my room instead?”

“Of course you can but I thought—I mean, you’ve waited so long to watch your show.”

“I know. It’ll be on again though.”

I didn’t want to look at my mom so I looked at my hands instead. They were sort of dirty. My pen had leaked at school today and there was a big blue ink smudge on my finger, and out of my ten fingernails, six needed cutting.

“Don’t bite your nails,” Mom said, “you’ll get worms in your belly.”

I put my hand back in my lap, not liking the way Mom was looking at me. It seemed like she was studying me, trying to guess what I might do or say next. I was used to people at school looking at me like that but I didn’t expect it from her. I always thought she knew me better.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Can I go to my room, please? I really just want to go to my room right now.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

I heard her but didn’t answer. Instead, I stood up and left the kitchen and when I heard her say she loved me I didn’t respond to that either. The phone rang again as I climbed the stairs to my

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