spend time
together
and pretend
life is normal
for a few hours.
CHECKMATE
We bump into
Tyson and his mom
at the diner.
Our parents make neighborly
small talk.
They’re completely
oblivious
to their sons,
silently smoldering
inches apart.
The bruise under Tyson’s left eye
is turning yellowish, a reminder
of Liam’s pre-spring break punch.
I notice a second, darker,
fresher-looking bruise
on his chin. Who gave him that?
When he sees me looking, he sneers.
I lock my eyes
on the black-and-white
checkerboard floor.
You boys should get together this summer,
Tyson’s mom says.
Tyson’s been terribly lonely since Keith moved.
And his stepbrother can be a bit rowdy.
Isn’t that right, honey?
Tyson grimaces, maybe because
his mom called him honey
or his bruises hurt
or he can’t stand the idea
of hanging out with me.
Whatever. I feel the same.
Perhaps the only torture
worse
than spending summer vacation with
the Hoard
would be a forced playdate
with my enemy.
The overhead speaker blares,
Farty, party of two!
Now seating the Farty party!
Oh! That’s us! Dad says,
completely mortifying me
and rescuing me
all at once.
∞ ∞ ∞
He may have cracked a joke
when the waitress called our fake name,
but as soon as we sit down,
Dad grows quiet.
The first clue
that something is wrong:
he orders a salad.
The second clue:
when he thinks I’m not looking
he fills his pockets
with used napkins,
crumpled straw wrappers,
several packets of artificial sweetener.
He’s hoarding, clinging to whatever
he can get his hands on,
trying to fill the unbearable
emptiness
that losing Mom
carved
into our lives.
And yet—
here I am.
His own son.
Sitting right across the table.
I want him to gather me up,
hold me close.
I want to talk to him
about so many things
but he’s like the vacant lot:
fenced off, shut down.
Maybe tomorrow he’ll let me in.
10
I stop at the library
first thing in the morning
to check my email.
A reply from Aunt Lydia
appears in my inbox
with lots of XOXOs, exclamations points,
and, most importantly,
a string of ten numbers.
T-MINUS 41
On Monday morning
the words
Shopping mall
are written in red
across Ms. Treehorn’s whiteboard.
Field trip? Liam asks.
Mr. Urvall, you just had an entire week off.
Welcome back to the world
of classroom learning moments.
Then more words appear:
Dead bodies
Now Ms. Treehorn has everyone’s attention.
It turns out
human remains were found
at the shopping mall site,
next to animal bones,
charred cloth, an ax,
and a broken ladle.
Funerary objects, Ms. Treehorn explains,
are the things we’re buried with
when we pass on.
She tells us
is one of the archaeologists
studying the site.
Along with the funerary objects,
his team discovered
a shallow basin
with a circular pit in the center,
filled with charcoal.
Charles believes
it’s an ancient burial site
where cremations occurred.
Which means
the land is
sacred.
I could have told her
how special that land is,
and I’m not even
an archaeologist.
∞ ∞ ∞
Liam thinks cremation
should be the name of a new ice cream parlor.
All afternoon he won’t shut up about
banana splits with extra hot fudge,
triple-scoop waffle-cone supremes,
brownie batter blasts.
Until I explain to him that cremation actually means
to burn a dead body.
* * *
To minimize the risks of a house fire, install and test fire alarms throughout your home.
Keep a fire extinguisher near cooking areas.
Create and practice an escape plan with your family members.
In the event of a fire, move as quickly as possible to the nearest exit.
If there is smoke coming from under a door, or if a door is hot to the touch, do not open it!
Seek an alternate route.
If your clothes catch fire, stop, drop to the ground, and roll back and forth until the fire is out.
Smoke inhalation can render you disoriented and unconscious.
Cover your mouth and nose with a shirt or damp rag and crawl low to the floor.
Contact your local fire department as soon as you are able to safely.
Do not return to a burning building for material possessions.
GET OUT AND STAY OUT!
SOS
Can I borrow your phone? I ask Liam after swim practice.
I told you, it doesn’t do anything fun.
That’s okay.
I just need to make a quick call.
What’s the emergency?
Zombie attack?
Cyborg invasion?
Nope.
Prank call? Liam asks hopefully.
None of your beeswax, Matchstick.
I grab the phone
and walk over to an empty bench.
My hands tremble
as I dial the numbers.
The phone rings. Once, twice.
A gentle voice answers, Hello?
I can barely breathe,
let alone speak.
Hello? the voice says again.
Aunt Lydia
sounds so much
like Mom.
If I close my eyes,
I almost believe
it is Mom
on the line.
I miss you, I say, words spilling like water.
I really, really miss you.
Collin? Is that you?
Oh, I miss you, too.
I miss you a million times infinity
to the infinity power.
The voice laughs
and I remember
it’s not Mom.
Your cousins and I cannot wait to see you!
It’s been far too long.
Ogden’s been making excuses for ages.
My dad? He has?
Gosh, yes! He always tells me
you’re too busy.
When I got your email,
I was so happy, Collin.
So it’d be okay
if I come visit
for a little while this summer?
Absolutely!
We’ll take you to the mountains, and the shore.
There’s nothing like swimming
in the Atlantic Ocean.
I heard it’s cold.
It’s good for you.
A dip in that water
will put some hair on your chest!
I start reciting a chapter
about hypothermia to her
(which doesn’t mention anything about premature hair growth).
Not that cold!
It’s Maine,
not the North Pole.
She laughs her not-Mom laugh.
But hypothermia is no laughing matter.
Neither is puberty,
if Lindsay’s pimply, hairy boyfriend,
AKA Catastrophe, is any indication.
WORRYING
While Aunt Lydia describes
all the fun we’ll have,
the birds of worry
flap and circle overhead.
I try to shoo them away,
but they’ve come to roost.
beach, roller coasters, shaved ice.
I hear:
squall, whiplash, brain freeze.
She says:
hiking, camping, fishing.
I hear:
poison ivy, grizzly bears, hooks in eyeballs.
So, you’ll come? Aunt Lydia asks.
This is my chance.
This is what I wanted.
But suddenly all I can say is,
I’ll think about it.
WEIGHTLESS
I get to swim practice early
before anyone else.
I dive into the water
then rise to the surface.
I float on my back, weightless.
I close my eyes,
replaying the conversation with Aunt Lydia.
I picture a scale:
stinging jellyfish, riptide, squall, seagull poop,
biting ticks, poison ivy, burnt marshmallows,
capsized canoes, blisters, and slimy worms
on one side
T
H
E
HOARD
on the other side.
DECISIONS
The scale tips.
I begin to sink.
I kick upward,
back to the surface,
take a breath.
I jet forward,
stretch my arms,
finding comfort
in the rhythm.
Pick a cherry,
put it in your basket.
One.
Pick a cherry,
put it in your basket.
Two.
After a dozen laps,
thinking and picking,
weighing my options,
I make a decision.
NO WARNING
Back at home
I rummage through the fridge
searching for last night’s leftovers.
Then I head to my room
to finish homework
and read my favorite comic books.
An hour later the phone rings.
I almost miss the call
because the phone is wedged deeply between
the living-room couch cushions,
beneath several binders and files.
Hello? I say, thinking it’s Dad
calling to check in.
He does that sometimes
when he works late.
Dude!
I recognize the voice immediately,
but I ask, Who’s this? Just to mess with him.
It’s me. Your outrageously witty,
devastatingly good-looking,
ridiculously talented BFF.
Oh, hey, Georgia.
Whaaaat? It’s Liam, not Georgia! he barks.
I laugh. Right, of course.
My mistake. What’s up?
I found your gym bag.
You forgot it after practice.
Oh, thanks.
Just bring it to school tomorrow, okay?
I’m one step ahead of you, Worst-Case.
I pause. What do you mean?
I caught a ride with Lindsay.
But she’s going on a date with Catastrophe later,
so I can’t stay long.
Stay long where? Liam? What?
I’ll be there in a sec…
The line goes dead.
I run toward the front door
as the knob squeaks, turning.
I pray it’s just Dad
home from work.
It’s not.
The latch is still broken.
The door swings
open
before I can get to it.
You left this at the poo—
EXPOSED
I’m fast,
but not fast enough
to keep Liam from seeing.
There are too many
obstacles,
too much trash
in my way.
Just when I thought
I’d figured out
how to escape,
I’m trapped again.
I can’t hide
our secret
any longer.
SHOCK
Shock makes people act strange.
It either gives you too many words
or too few.
(Shame does the same.)
Liam stares.
His nose wrinkles.
I stare back, frozen.
Lindsay honks the car horn impatiently.
Liam mutters a single, Whoa.
He drops my gym bag onto the stoop
and gives me a super-weird thumbs-up.
I don’t try to chase him
as he runs back
to the minivan,
speeding as fast and
as far
from my disgusting life
as he can.
I don’t blame him.
STUCK
My heart is a drum
banging out a frantic rhythm.
Tightly wound
worst-case scenarios
unravel
in my mind.
Once they gather momentum
it’s hard
to stop them.
A tsunami of what-ifs
crashes with such force
it knocks me off my feet.
What if…
Liam never talks to me again?
he tells Georgia what he saw?
I lose my best friends?
What if…
everyone at school realizes Tyson was right?
they crown him king?
they banish me?
What if…
Sharon calls social services?
they come to take me away?
they put Dad in some sort of parent jail?
What if…
the Hoard
squeezes the breath out of me?
no one ever comes to rescue me?
CAN’T GO
I can’t go
to school tomorrow,
or the next day
or any day
in this millennium.
I can’t face Liam
or anyone
ever again.
But I really, really, really
can’t spend another day
cooped up inside
with the Hoard.
FESS UP
To my surprise,
Liam is waiting for me
as soon as I step off the bus
the next morning,
his lips quirked
in a hard-to-decipher expression.
You. He points. Fess up.
I cringe.
Georgia joins us.
Yikes, Collin. You look awful, she says.
Good morning to you, too. I try to keep my voice steady
and my tone light, even though
I feel like I’m going to hurl.
Here, drink some water.
Georgia hands me a bottle from her backpack.
Everything okay? she asks.
I nod and take a sip of the water,
but I can’t bring myself to speak.
Liam makes a face.
Collin’s been keeping
a dirty little secret.
My entire body twists
into a gigantic tangle
of nauseous nerves.
Tell her what I saw yesterday.
He gives me a little elbow to the ribs.
I try to imagine how
the Hoard looked
through someone else’s eyes.
My vision goes fuzzy.
Fine. If you won’t tell her, I will.
Georgia, I opened the door to his house and…
I feel like I’m living in slow motion.
I am SO BUSTED.
This flipping genius
pranked his dad big time!
Hold up. What?
There were boxes and bags stacked
all the way to the ceiling.
He even detonated some stink bombs
to make the place really smelly.
Liam laughs, thumps me on the back.
It seems the student has surpassed the master.
Huh? I grunt.
I’m not taking credit or anything,
but I did train you
in the dark arts of prankery.
And what you accomplished yesterday