“I was thinking we should have a picnic,” he says. “Right here. Hot dogs for the kids. Hamburgers and brats for the adults.”
She looks over at him, a curious smile on her face. “Look at you, talking and all.”
“I was thinking two packs of hot dogs,” he says. “Then three or four pounds of ground beef, but…I don’t know. I don’t know how much people will eat.” The picnic, if it happens at all, will occur on the other side of history.
“Could you make Mom’s lamb sausage?” Irene asks. “You know, the ones with the feta and the mint?”
“Oh.” He’d remembered making patties out of ground meat, but had assumed he’d been making hamburgers. Huh.
“You don’t have to, if you’ve got your heart set on burgers,” Irene says.
“No, that’s fine.” Mom had learned a few Greek recipes, mostly at Frankie’s urging, and Buddy had memorized them. It would be good to do this on the anniversary of her death. “Could you go to the grocery store for me?”
He writes out the ingredients, tripling the usual recipe for the number of people in the house. And then he starts writing out the instructions. “Just in case,” he says. “I might not be able to…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.
“You look so nervous,” Irene says. “Don’t worry. It’s all going to work out.”
“What did you say?” He looks up. His eyes are awash in tears. Unexpected, uncalled for. One of the first surprises of the day.
“Oh, Buddy.” She reaches up and puts a hand on his neck. “I’m sorry. I know having lots of people around stresses you out.”
He takes a breath. There are so many plates to keep spinning, and some of them are beginning to wobble. “It is a lot to manage,” he says.
MATTY
He was flying over water. The slate blue water stretched to the horizon, into a golden smear of the rising sun, and he moved toward it along the brilliant, rippling path of the dawn road. He could feel nothing, hear nothing. There was no speed. It could be that he was not moving at all, simply hovering in place while the planet rotated beneath him. And at the thought of the planet, there it was, a blue-green orb glowing beneath his feet. So pretty. He glanced up, into the black of space, and noticed a star winking at him. Or was that Mars? He moved closer—
—and woke with a yelp.
A dream. Or was it? Could his astral self slip away while he was sleeping? What if it couldn’t find its way back? Another thing to worry about.
God he needed to pee.
He lay in the bunk bed, staring up at springs and slats. No new deliveries, thank goodness. The room was dark except for a crack in Buddy’s new metal window shades. What time was it?
Finally his bladder nudged him out of bed. When he climbed out of the bunk, the entire frame creaked and swayed. So maybe these weren’t the most permanent structures Buddy had built.
“Oh come on,” a voice above him said.
“Sorry,” Matty said.
Julian, the oldest of the Pusateris, made a dismissive noise through his teeth. Even in the dark he could roll his eyes. Matty had decided last night that he didn’t like him, and not just because the older boy had kicked his ass in Super Mario. Every time Uncle Buddy had walked in, Julian made a face. When Malice came down, he frowned at her and said, “Of course. A Goth.”
The other bunks, containing the two youngest Pusateris, were to his right, which meant the basement bathroom was off to his left. He started for it.
Julian said, “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” Matty said without looking back. He’d learned to deal with the random aggressions of older boys. School was a dog park, all the big dogs off the chain, the pups fending for themselves, and the teachers distant and useless. The trick was to keep your head down and keep moving.
“I mean all of you,” Julian said.
“Hey.” Matty wheeled to face him, propelled by a flash of anger. “You don’t know us.”
“I know what you are.” But he didn’t sound so sure. He seemed as surprised as Matty that someone younger and poorer would dare disagree with him.
“You don’t know shit. We were on TV. We’re the Amazing Telemachus Family.”
“Yeah, well do something amazing.” Julian hopped down. “I’m serious. Do something. Now.”
Matty stood his ground. “Ask me if I’ve got change for a five.”
“What?”
“Ask me. Then hand me a five-dollar bill.”
“Fuck you.”
Matty shrugged. “Fine. Forget it.”
“No, wait.” He reached into his jeans and brought out a nylon wallet. “I’ve got a ten. Will that do?”
Matty pretended to consider this. “All right. Now ask the question.”
“Do you, dick-muncher, have change for a ten?”
“Sure, mister fuckwad.” Matty folded the ten, palmed it, and unfolded the two-dollar bill. He gave it a snap and showed it to him. It was a blast to watch his face.
“What the fuck! Where’s my ten bucks? How’d you do that?”
“I’ll teach it to you for twenty,” Matty said.
“Deal.”
“Later,” Matty said. “I gotta pee.”
After the bathroom, he went upstairs. Uncle Buddy stood at the stove, twisting wads of cinnamon dough onto a cookie pan. “These will be done in a few minutes,” Buddy said. “Your mom went to the grocery store.”
“Thanks.” It was weird to have Uncle Buddy talk to him unprompted. Weird, but nice.
The house was quiet, everybody except Buddy still in their bedrooms, which was good, because Matty needed a little privacy. He went into the living room, where a half-naked Uncle Frankie lay on the couch like a drowned sailor tangled in sailcloth. Matty squatted next to him and touched his shoulder. Then he poked him.
Frankie opened one eye. It took a long time for consciousness to spread to the rest of his face.
“So?” Matty said.
“No money,” Frankie croaked.
“What?”
The second eye opened. “No. Money.”
“But the safe—”
“Empty. At least…” He shut his eyes again. “Anything useful.”
“No money,” Matty said wonderingly.
“What time is it?” Frankie asked.
“I don’t know. After eight?”
“Fuck.” Then: “Sorry.” He sat up, coughed hard. Then he looked Matty in the eye. “You didn’t see them move it or anything?”
“No! Every time somebody paid, he put it in the safe. I swear.”
Frankie looked at the floor. After a while, Matty said, “What are we going to do?”
“We’re not going to do anything,” Frankie said. “There’s nothing to do. We’re fucked.”
All this work, Matty thought. All this trouble, and there was nothing to show for it? Nothing he could give Mom?
Frankie was looking at something over Matty’s shoulder. Matty turned, and Malice was staring at them. She looked so much younger without her makeup, more fragile.
“Who are these guys?” she asked, and nodded at the window.
Matty stood up. A silver van had pulled into the driveway.
“Don’t let them in!” Matty said to Malice. He ran upstairs, thinking, They’ve come for me.
TEDDY
Someone pounded on his bedroom door. “Grandpa Teddy?” Matty said, his voice frantic. “Are you in there? Agent Smalls is here!”