Part 3 (1/2)

”Someone might see your shadow through the shade,” Dad said.

”They wouldn't know it was mine,” Luke said.

”But there'd be five. Someone might get suspicious,” Mother said patiently. ”Luke, we're just trying to protect you. How about a big slice of your bread? There's cold beef and canned beans, too.”

Resignedly, Luke sat down on the stairs.

Matthew asked about the auction Dad had gone to.

”I drove all that way for nothing,” Dad said disgustedly. ”I waited four hours for the tractors to come up, and then I couldn't even afford the first bid.”

”At least you got home in time to fix that back fence before dark,” Mother said, cutting the bread.

And yell at me, Luke thought bitterly. What was wrong with him? Nothing had changed. Except he'd maybe seen a face that maybe belonged to someone like him”

Matthew and Mark suddenly noticed the bread Mother was doling out.

”What's wrong with that?” Mark asked.

”I'm sure it will taste fine,” Mother said. ”It's Luke's first try.”

Luke muttered, ”And my last,” too softly for anyone to hear. There were advantages to sitting on the other side of the room from everyone else.

”Luke made bread?” Mark said incredulously. ”Yuck.”

”Yeah. And I put special poison in one of the loaves, that only affects fourteen-year-olds,” Luke said. He pantomimed death, clutching his hands around his own neck, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth, and lolling his head to the side. ”If you're nice to me, I'll tell you which loaf is safe.”

That shut Mark up but earned Luke a frown from Mother. Luke felt strange about the joke, anyway. Of course he'd never poison anyone, but”if something happened to Matthew or Mark, would Luke have to hide anymore? Would he become the public second son, free to go to town and to school and everywhere else that Matthew and Mark went? Could his parents find some way to explain a ”new” child already twelve years old?

It wasn't something Luke could ask. He felt guilty just thinking about it.

Mark was making a big ceremony out of bringing the bread to his mouth.

”I'm not scared of you,” he taunted, and took a big bite. He swallowed with great difficulty and pretended to gag. ”Water, water”quick!” He gulped down half his gla.s.s and glared at Luke. ”Tastes like poison, all right”.

Luke bit into his bread. It was dry and crumbly and tasteless, not like Mother's at all. And everybody knew it. Even Dad and Mother had pained expressions on their faces as they chewed. Dad finally pushed his slice away.

”That's okay, Luke,” he said. ”I'm not sure I'd want any son of mine getting too good at baking, anyhow. That's what a man gets married for.”

Matthew and Mark guffawed.

”Getting married soon, Luke?” Mark teased.

”Sure,” Luke said, struggling to sound as devil-may-care as Mark. ”But don't think I'd invite you to the wedding.”

He felt a cold, hard lump in his stomach that wasn't the bread. Of course he'd never get married. Or do anything. He'd never leave the house.

Mark switched to teasing Matthew, who evidently did have a girlfriend. Luke watched the rest of his family laughing.

”May I be excused?” Luke asked.

Everyone turned to him in surprise. Usually he was the last one to make that request. Mother often begged Matthew and Mark, ”Can't you wait, and talk to Luke a little bit longer?”

”Done already?” Mother asked.

”I'm not very hungry,” Luke said.

Mother gave him a worried look but nodded, anyway.

Luke went to his room and climbed onto the stool by the back vents. In the dark, it was easier than ever to see into the houses of the new neighborhood. Their windows were lit up against the night. Some families were eating, like his. He could see one set of four people around a dining room table, and one set of three. Some families had their curtains or shades drawn, but sometimes the material was thin and he could still see shadows of the people inside.

Only the Sports Family had all their windows totally blocked, covered by heavy blinds.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Luke watched the Sports Family house constantly after that. Before, he had just looked out the back vents in the early morning and late afternoon, when he knew people were about. But he'd seen the face at two o'clock. Maybe the other kid knew the rhythms of the neighborhood, too, and let his guard down only during times he considered safe.

For three long days, Luke saw nothing.

Then on the fourth day, he was rewarded: One panel of one of the blinds on an upstairs window flipped quickly up and down at eleven o'clock.

The seventh day the blinds in a downstairs window were left up in the morning. Luke saw a light go on and off at 9:07, two full hours after the last of the Sports Family had left. A half hour later, the Sports Family mother drove in in her red car and stomped into the house. Two minutes later, the blind in the downstairs window went down. The mother left immediately.

The thirteenth day was unseasonably warm, and Luke sweated in his attic. Some of the Sports Family's windows were left open, though still covered by the blinds. The wind blew the blinds back a couple times. Luke saw lights on in some of the rooms some of the time, in other rooms as the day wore on. Once he even thought he saw a glow of a TV screen.

He had no doubts anymore. Someone was hiding in the Sports Family house.

The question was, what could he do about it?

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Harvest came. Matthew and Mark stayed out of school to help Dad bring the crops in, the three of them working some days from dawn until midnight. Mother's factory got busier, too, and she began working two or three hours of overtime every day. She brought up a store of food to Luke's room so he wouldn't get hungry while they were all away.

”There!” she said cheerfully, lining up boxes of crackers and bags of fruit. ”This way, you won't even miss us.”

Her eyes begged him not to complain.

”Uh huh,” he said, trying to sound game. ”I'll be fine.”