The Famoux

Chapter 5

emilee

We layer up in shirts, sweaters, and coats. Since the tuna wasn't too appetizing, Brandyce and I are eating a small lunch of dried oats, which are a little too crunchy, as the coldness has gotten to them, but none of us vocally mind. Better save the good stuff if the Darkening lasts longer than anticipated, anyway.

Dalton skips the meal, and helps father study the map of Trulivent to see the shortest way to get to the Fishbowl. I know the way, though, and so does Dalton: Follow Clarus Creek, and it takes you straight to Trulivent, straight to where the Famoux is. None of us say anything about it, because we know how dad is. He'll want to figure it out all by himself. We risk another outburst if we try to give any opinions.

So Brandyce and I sit on the couch, crunching on frozen cereal, watching the muted Famoux on the television.

Well, I watch the Famoux. Brandyce rests her eyes, as if she didn't get enough sleep last night.

An hour passes. By now I've seen Foster Farrand make himself a bowl of soup, seen Kaytee McKarrington touch up her perfect makeup, and seen Chapter Stones sit in his room, talking to Calsifer Race about something I can't hear.

I wonder if I'll be able to hear them through the glass of the Fishbowl. Do they set up speakers? No, not possible. There's no electricity for that. It's all spent on what goes on inside the glass dome, not out.

"Maybe we should look over at this side of the map," I hear Dalton suggest from the dining table.

"Where?"

"Over here," he says. "South."

"That's ridiculous son," father scoffs. "No."

"I guess you're right," Dalton replies, disappointed.

"I mean, look, son, there's nothing over there at all . . . oh, here's an idea, son: let's try looking a little south."

Though Dalton already was pointing to Clarus, he pretends he didn't. "That's a wonderful idea, father!" he exclaims. "Yeah, let's look south."

"Oh, look, son, there's Clarus Creek. Why didn't we think of Clarus sooner? Let's just follow the river the whole way there."

"Wow, that's clever!" Dalton's fake excitement sells. "I would have never thought of that, dad. Brilliant idea."

"I know, it truly is a brilliant idea." He puffs up his chest, proud. "You kids probably wouldn't be able to survive even a day without me."

"Oh, you're totally right, dad," says Brandyce. "We all would be so much better off with you staying here forever."

When I glance over at her, she's rolling her eyes. I frown. There's no use in getting her to consider our dad's side in all this. Only once did I ever suggest that she's never had to lose a spouse, and all she gave me was the coldest glare. She told me all about how if maybe she didn't have to be here watching me every day, she could've been out in the world getting a spouse she could lose. "Kind of hard to understand when you never get the chance," she had spat. I swallowed hard and dropped the subject, never to pick it up again.

"Well, I think we're ready now," our dad announces. "Let's get going before the spots around the Fishbowl are all gone. It's a fairly long walk."

And so we go, towing tent material and bundles of blankets, as if we may decide to stay overnight. Brandyce uses a dimmed flashlight to navigate our way through the woods, but I think I could've led us through the darkness, I've been down this trail so many times.