The Boy with Words for Skin

Chapter 23: The Attack

I stared down the road for a minute, not even thinking. I just needed a few minutes to pull myself together, push down all the feelings that were battling inside of me. Going to Thanksgiving dinner wasn't up to me. It'd be up to him.

I eventually went back inside. I dropped off my coat in my bedroom and then went over to the bathroom. The door was shut like it always was, but I went inside without knocking. My brother and The Headless Dog were in the bathtub. I walked over and sat on the edge of it.

"Hey, Words. Wanna play with us? I'm lost in a swamp and Heady's a mean alligator."

"I'll just watch," I said.

They started wrestling with each other.

Boy seemed so happy that I wasn't sure I could bring up Thanksgiving just then. There was still eight days left before we needed a decision. Maybe it could wait. But without disturbing his wrestling at all, Boy said, "What did Dad want?" It sounded like he didn't really care at all.

I hesitated. "They want us to come to Thanksgiving dinner."

Boy stopped wrestling and just sat there. When The Headless Dog jumped on him, he pushed him away. The Headless Dog whined and laid across my brother's lap. I waited for him to say anything. He didn't.

"It's up to you," I finally said. "We'll do what you want."

We sat there in silence for a long time.

"You don't have to decide right now. Think about it," I said. I tried to make it sound like it wasn't a deal.

"Will it be better?"

"I don't know," I said. "They want to try." That stupid word again. Try. Saying you'd try something meant you weren't sure if you could actually do it. "It's just really hard for them. They blame themselves for what happened to us."

"Why?"

"They think if they didn't take us to the Farewell that we would still be normal. But they did take us, so they think it's their fault."

He thought for a bit. "Would we be normal if we didn't go to the Farewell?"

"I don't know. Probably."

He laid down with his back to me and hugged The Headless Dog to him. "I'll think about it."

I stood up.

"Are they?" Boy said.

"Huh?"

"Are they to blame? Mom and Dad? For what happened to us?"

I sighed. "I don't know, Boy. But it doesn't really matter. Blaming them, ourselves, The Man with the Accordion Legs—it won't change anything. The only thing that matters is what we do now."

I stood there, shocked. Had I just said that? More importantly, had I meant it? It sounded like something Kit would've said. And, thinking about it, she would've been right.

* * *

You could feel the difference in the air after a night when there were no footsteps and a night when there were. After no footsteps, the air felt clearer, cleaner, the lighting even seemed a little brighter—and not only because Light was in a better mood and glowed a bit. After a night with footsteps, though, everything felt weighted down.

There weren't any footsteps the night my dad visited or the night after that, but they came back the next night, and the next, and the next. By Monday night, we were all exhausted but too scared to let ourselves fall asleep.

In the bathtub that night, I laid on my back, one arm under Boy, and the other holding Rope against my chest. We were all tense, knowing what might happen. Even The Headless Dog was scared. He'd done his best to burrow his way into the blankets underneath us.