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Just wait until I got my hands on the backyard！ Then
maybe I'd even paint the house。 I could do it。 I could。
Chet the story； and when Mom brought us out sandwiches at
lunchtime； we sat on the porch and ate without saying
a word。 Then he broke the silence by nodding across the street and saying； “I don't know
why he doesn't just e out and say hello。”
“Who？” I asked； then looked across the street to where he'd nodded。 The curtain in Bryce's
room moved quickly back into place； and I couldn't
help asking； “Bryce？”
“That's the third time I've seen him watching。”
“Really？” My heart was fluttering about like a baby bird trying to fly。
He frowned and said； “Let's finish up and get that seed sown； shall we？ You'll want the
warmth of the day to help with the germination。”
I was happy to finally be planting the yard； but I couldn't help being distracted by Bryce's
window。 Was he watching？ During the rest of the
afternoon； I checked more often than I'd like to admit。 And I'm afraid Chet noticed； too；
because when we were all done and we'd congratulated
each other on what was sure to be a fine…looking yard； he said； “He may be acting like a
coward now； but I do hold out hope for the boy。”
A coward？ What on earth could I say to that？ I just stood there with the hose in one hand
and the spigot valve beneath the other。
And with that； Chet waved so long and walked across the street。
……… Page 51………
A few minutes later I saw Bryce ing down the sidewalk toward his house。 I did a double
take。 All this time I'd thought he was inside the house
watching； and he was really outside walking around？ I was embarrassed all over again。
I turned my back on him and concentrated on watering the yard。 What a fool I was！ What a
plete idiot！ And I had just built up a nice head of
angry steam when I heard； “It's looking good； Juli。 Nice job。”
It was Bryce； standing right there on our driveway。 And suddenly I wasn't mad at me
anymore。 I was mad at him。 How could he stand there like my
supervisor and tell me； Nice job？ He had no business saying anything after what he'd done。
I was about to hose him down when he said； “I'm sorry for what I did； Juli。 It was； you know…
wrong。”
I looked at him—into those brilliant blue eyes。 And I tried to do what Chet had said—I tried to
look past them。 What was behind them？ What was
he thinking？ Was he really sorry？ Or was he just feeling bad about the things he'd said？
It was like looking into the sun； though； and I had to turn away。
I couldn't tell you what we talked about after that； except that he was nice to me and he made
me laugh。 And after he left； I shut off the water and
went inside feeling very； very strange。
The rest of the evening I bounced back and forth between upset and uneasy。 The worst part
being； I couldn't really put my finger on what exactly I
was upset or uneasy about。 Of course it was Bryce； but why wasn't I just mad？ He'd been
such a … scoundrel。 Or happy？ Why wasn't I just happy？
He'd e over to our house。 He'd stood on our driveway。 He'd said nice things。 We'd
laughed。
But I wasn't mad or happy。 And as I lay in bed trying to read； I realized that upset had been
overshadowed by uneasy。 I felt as though someone
was watching me。 I got so spooked I even got up and checked out the window and in the
closet and under the bed； but still the feeling didn't go
away。
It took me until nearly midnight to understand what it was。
It was me。 Watching me。
Looming Large and Smelly
Sunday I woke up feeling like I'd been sick with the flu。 Like I'd had one of those bad；
convoluted； unexplainable fever dreams。
And what I've figured out about bad； convoluted； unexplainable dreams of any kind is that
you've just got to shake them off。 Try to forget that they
ever happened。
I shook it off； all right； and got out of bed early 'cause I had eaten almost nothing the night
before and I was starving！ But as I was trucking into the
kitchen； I glanced into the family room and noticed that my dad was sacked out on the couch。
This was not good。 This was a sign of battles still in progress； and it made me feel like an
invader in my own territory。
He rolled over and kind of groaned； then curled up tighter under his skinny little quilt and
muttered some pretty unfriendly…sounding stuff into his
pillow。
I beat it into the kitchen and poured myself a killer bowl of corn flakes。 And I was about to
drown it in milk when my mother es waltzing in and
snags it away from me。 “You are going to wait； young man；” she says。 “This family is going to
have Sunday breakfast together。”
“But I'm starving！”
“So are the rest of us。 Now go！ I'm making pancakes； and you're taking a shower。 Go！”
Like a shower's going to prevent imminent starvation。
But I headed down to the bathroom； and on my way I noticed that the family room was empty。
The quilt was folded and back on the armrest； the
……… Page 52………
pillow was gone…it was like I'd imagined the whole thing。
At breakfast my father didn't look like he'd spent the night on the couch。 No bags under his
eyes； no whiskers on his chin。 He was decked out in
tennis shorts and a lavender polo shirt； and his hair was all blown dry like it was a workday。
Personally I thought the shirt looked kind of girly； but my
mom said； “You look very nice this morning； Rick。”
My father just eyed her suspiciously。
Then my grandfather came in； saying； “Patsy； the house smells wonderful！ Good morning；
Rick。 Hi there； Bryce；” and winked at me as he sat
down and put his napkin in his lap。
“Lyn…et…ta！” my mother sang out。 “Break…fast！”
My sister appeared in a triple…X miniskirt and platform shoes； with eyes that were definitely of
the raccoon variety。 My mother gasped； but then
took a deep breath and said； “Good morning； honey。 You're… you're …I thought you were
going to church this morning with your friends。”
“I am。” Lyta scowled and sat down。
Mom brought pancakes； fried eggs； and hash browns to the table。 My father just sat there
stiff as a board for a minute； but finally he shook out his
napkin and tucked it into his collar。
“Well；” my mother said as she sat down； “I have e up with a solution to our situation。”
“Here it es …；” my father muttered； but my mother gave him a glare that shut him down
cold。
“The solution is …；” my mom said as she served herself some pancakes； “… we're going to
invite the Bakers over for dinner。”
My father blurts out； “What？”； Lyta asks； “All of them？”； I put in； “Are you serious？”； but
my grandfather heaps on another fried egg and says；
“That； Patsy； is a marvelous idea。”
“Thanks； Dad；” she says with a smile； then tells Lyta and me； “Of course I'm serious； and
yes； if Juli and the boys want to e； they'll be
invited。”
My sister starts cracking up。 “Do you know what you're saying？”
Mom smooths the napkin into her lap。 “Maybe it's about time I found out。”
Lyta turns to me and says； “She's inviting the core of Piss Poor over for dinner — oh； this
is something I really woke up expecting！”
My father shakes his head and says； “Patsy； what purpose does this serve？ So I made some
stupid cracks last night。 Is this the next phase in my
punishment？”
“It is something we should have done years ago。”
“Patsy； please。 I know you feel bad about what you found out； but an awkward dinner party
isn't going to change anything！”
My mother ran syrup all over her pancakes； popped the top closed； licked her finger； then
locked eyes with my dad。 “We are having the Bakers
over for dinner。”
And that； she didn't have to tell him； was that。
Dad took a deep breath； then sighed and said； “Whatever you want； Patsy。 Just don't say I
didn't warn you。” He took a bit