“Can I make you a thermos of coffee to go?”
She shook her head. “What time are the kids leaving tomorrow?”
“Noon. I have to feed them pancakes and bacon.” Felix visualized the pancake mix on the counter. All three boxes. Waiting.
“Then I’ll tell Ella you’ll be over at one. How does that sound?” Katherine picked up her bag.
“Thank you.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” She flicked back her hair, a gesture that yelled, I am peeved. Or maybe, You are exasperating. Either way, he’d screwed up again.
“Get what?”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me. Ella’s my friend. I’d take a bullet for her.”
Felix looked at the carpet and glanced back up. “I don’t have many friends.”
“That’s because all you do is work, same as me.” She put her head to one side and scrutinized him. “Most of my friends are up in New York. I never really had time to make new ones down here. But thank God I went to book club that night and met your wife. I figure you and I both hit the jackpot with Ella.”
“She’s the only person who understands me. I don’t know what I’d do if—”
Katherine held up her hand. “She’s stable, and she has excellent care. I’ll call in half an hour. And we’re good—about tonight. No one else will know.” Katherine walked to the door and stopped with her back to him. “Try and get some sleep.”
She closed the door quietly, and Felix stared at his empty bed.
TWELVE
Harry tore out of a nightmare he couldn’t quite remember and fell back on his bed, heart racing. Man—he scratched through his hair—he was starving. Must’ve been out cold for three hours.
Post-sleepover coma!
Dusk already. It would be dark soon. Dark like it could only get in the forest. He shivered and burrowed under the duvet. The house was silent. Silent as a cemetery, which meant Dad wasn’t back. Harry curled into a tight ball. Being alone was the worst state of existence. Being home alone was creepy as shit. Mom never left him home alone at night. She knew he was terrified of the dark. ’Course, Max said anyone with half a brain should be.
Dad would call him a spineless wonder.
Yup, a wimp and proud of it!
Harry poked out his head. There was some weird scratching noise in the wall, as if something was trapped in there. Threatening to explode through the drywall in a bloody mess like the creature in Alien. Not that he’d actually seen that bit, since he’d been cowering behind his Darth Vader cushion. He’d meant to hide it before Sammie came over, but turned out she was a Star Wars fan. A hot girl who liked sci-fi. Was that not the best?
Dumb, dumb to let Max pick the first of last night’s movies. So dumb. Max made horrible decisions for himself. Why on earth had Harry thought his decision for the group would be any better? None of them had really wanted to see Alien. None of them really liked guts and gore.
Spineless wonders of the world, unite!
Harry snatched his phone off the nightstand, pulled it under the duvet, texted Max:
DUDE! dad still not back house scary as shit walls are alive!!!!!!!!!
Max didn’t reply. He was probably asleep.
Okay, so staying under the duvet and reliving horror movies, when there was probably some perfectly rational explanation for the—gulp!—noises in the wall, was lame. Mice!
There you go, Harry. Rodents. Curse you all, rodents!
Hopefully, mice weren’t nesting in the walls because he’d been sneaking cookies into his room in the middle of the night. But really, Mom’s friends had brought by some bizarro meals on wheels. Crap—now he sounded as ungrateful as Dad, who’d thrown the last offering in the kitchen trash, muttering, “Why would an American willingly cook shepherd’s pie for a Brit?”