Page 11 of Haunted

Parker colors. “Yes.”

“How long are you staying? Do you like Minecraft? Can you draw me?”

“Bree,” I say. “Give him some space.”

“I’m just asking.”

Mom appears in the hallway with one eyebrow raised and her arms folded. “I see you’ve met my daughter. Is Ariel’s mom still in the driveway?”

“No, she had to go,” Breanna says. “Mommy sent me to Ariel Stone’s house, which is cool because she has a new puppy. Are you going to be my new brother? Lance likes boys. You know that, right?”

Parker looks at me. “Ummm, he told me.”

“What’s wrong with your voice? Are you getting sick? Can you give it to me? I don’t want to go to school.”

“Breanna Marie,” Mom says. “Stop pestering him. All of you, wash your hands. I didn’t cook this for it to get cold.”

Bree grabs Parker’s hand on her way past. “You can use the blue soap. The white soap is Lance’s and it smells weird.”

“It doesn’t smell weird,” I say, but she’s already dragged him around the corner, and I catch a glimpse of his face—startled, and maybe for the first time today, not miserable.

Mom’s set the place next to me for Parker, and when we’re finally washed up and sitting down, he stares at the food awkwardly for a long while, letting everyone else take their portions before carefully cutting a piece for himself.

Bree turns to Parker. “You know, you did a good drawing of him, but it’s not very realistic. He’s much dumber-looking in real life.”

The slice of meatloaf he just cut slides straight off his fork and lands on the tablecloth. He gapes at it in horror as the grease permeates the clean white linen. He immediately tries to dab it up.

“Can you draw me as a ninja princess riding a unicorn?” she asks as he’s picking it up.

A huge chunk disintegrates on the tip of his fork. Parker seems frozen in horror as half of it lands back on the tablecloth and the other plops straight onto the carpet. He glances at me, then at the food on the floor, then at his nearly empty plate. I reach down and pick up the bit on the floor with my napkin and stow it beside my plate. He gives me a grateful, faltering half-smile.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, pressing his napkin on the blot on the table.

“Don’t worry about it, Parker,” Mom says. “Happens all the time.”

“Especially with him,” Bree says, pointing at me.

Parker lifts his napkin and I see a moment of almost blind panic as he stares at the grease stain on the cloth. My family grows quiet.

“What were you planning to do after graduation?” Dad asks.

He looks up. “Oh. I was thinking of doing something to help special-needs people. My younger brother Elliott is special needs, so I have to take care of him and my grandmother when I get home from school,” he says. “Mom and I have to trade off and that means that I’m kind of on-call a lot, but at least then I can understand more of what he’s going through.”

I’m surprised at this, because at school he’s always drawing. I assumed he would go to art school somewhere.

“That’s a noble calling,” Dad says.

Parker nods. “Elliott has a lot of issues. He’s touch-averse, and he tends to melt down easily.” He glances over at the front door. “He must be having the most awful time right now. All the change and disruption. He’s the sweetest kid. It’s just that he doesn’t understand that he’s not little anymore, and he could really hurt someone when he has his tantrums.”

“Does he like Minecraft?” Bree asks.

“Bree,” Dad says gently.

“What? I’m asking.”

Parker almost smiles. “He likes the animals in it. He’ll just build fences and fill them with sheep for hours.”

“What kind of tantrums?” Mom asks, resting her chin on her hand.