Unspeakable Things(35)

“Yeah,” I responded. What else was there to say?

He put the truck into gear, and we didn’t say another word for the last half mile of the drive. Mr. Gomez didn’t step out with me when we pulled up to their house, either.

“You can go right in. Tell Sally I’ll wait for her out here,” he said.

I nodded and wiggled out of the truck, still shaken from driving through a cloud of crows.

“Hello?” I asked tentatively when I stepped into the strange house. The living room was stacked high with boxes, the largest sectional couch I’d ever seen crowding the middle. The kitchen was probably off to the left, just like in my house. I smelled something rich and cheesy, maybe lasagna, plus garlic toast. My stomach approved.

“In here!” Mrs. Gomez stuck her head out of the kitchen, a big grin on her face. Her curly red hair was spilling out of her upsweep. “You must be Persephone. Sorry for such short notice on the babysitting!”

“Cassandra,” I apologized. “Persephone is my sister. She had to stay home tonight.”

“Well, we’re happy to have you. You hungry?”

She disappeared into the kitchen. I followed the good smells.

Her kitchen had the same charmless cupboards and yellow-and-brown linoleum ours did before Mom and Dad ripped it out and Dad built the maple cabinetry from scratch. In our house the linoleum had looked horribly dated, but in this kitchen it felt like sunshine. Three kids sat at the table, two little girls facing me and a boy with his back to me.

When he turned, I gasped.

It was Frank, the new boy who had sat by Evie at lunch and was all smart mouth and sass.

Sally laughed big. “Frank, you see Cassandra’s face? She’s also wondering why a boy your age needs a sitter.”

There was that, but more pressing was the fact that we didn’t like each other. Plus, I was freaked out that I hadn’t known he lived so near. He hadn’t ridden the bus, even though he’d be on our route. His parents must have driven him to school.

Frank rolled his eyes before turning back to dig into a glorious melty pile of cheese, noodles, and red sauce. A tinfoil sleeve of store-bought garlic bread was within arm’s reach. The bowl of green lettuce was untouched. Near it stood a bottle of Wish-Bone Western Dressing. I had to swallow so the drool didn’t escape my mouth.

Sally looped an arm around me. It was so natural. “Frank’s dad thinks boys can’t babysit. Other than that character flaw, he’s a good man. So now you’ve met my son. The girl who has more sauce than face right now? That’s Julia, my youngest. She’s three. Her older sister, the one unfortunate enough to get my coloring, her name is Marie. Frank will show you the ropes. We have the phone hooked up in case there’s an emergency. We’ll be back before midnight. Any questions?”

Can I live here? “Does anyone have a medical condition?”

Sally laughed, but it felt like a hug. “I see you’ve taken the Girl Scout babysitting class. No, my kids are wash-and-wear. Hope you like lasagna. I made a double batch.” She kissed all her kids before she left, and then she planted a smooch on my head, right in my part. “Have fun!”

“Milk!” the youngest screamed, reaching for it.

I ran over to help her, listening to the front door slam and the pickup truck pull away. I looked at my hands before shyly grabbing my own paper plate. “You guys haven’t unpacked your dishes yet?”

Frank shrugged. “My dad has been here for a couple weeks. He didn’t unpack anything. We came last Sunday, and Mom hasn’t had time to go through all the boxes.”

“And they made you go to school anyway?”

“Yeah.”

I could tell he was as nervous as me. That made me more comfortable, that and the fact that I was in charge. “Well, let’s finish supper and then clean up. We can probably get this kitchen squared away before your parents get home.”



I ate lasagna until my eyeballs were cheese colored, and then all four of us cleaned up. Little Julia held the garbage bag while we dumped in the disposable plates and forks, Marie wiped, and Frank and I packed up the leftovers and hand-washed the plastic cups.

Once the table was cleaned off, Frank helped me scrounge up crayons and paper for the girls, and they colored while me and Frank scrubbed out the cupboards and unpacked all the dishes and silverware. I didn’t think Sally would care where we put stuff, that’s just the kind of person she seemed to be. The more Frank talked about his mom and dad, the more I knew I was right.

“What was Rochester like?” I asked.

He shrugged. “We lived out in the country, like here.”

“I wish I lived in town,” I confessed. “There’s so much more to do.”

He leaned toward me, shaking his head. “No you don’t. Town is where bad things happen. Someone was taking boys in Rochester, just like here.”

I blinked. “Only town boys?”

He nodded.

I thought back to the vulture bones, and Dad, and Bauer. “Is that why you moved? To get away from boys being attacked?” Because if so, they must have felt awful that it was happening here now.

“Naw,” Frank said. “We needed a bigger house.”

“This isn’t very big,” I said, then felt like a heel when I saw his face drop. I tried to take back my words. “It’s built like our house, is all.”