There was no light, and Sammy didn’t hear anything, not even Kevin breathing and muttering the way he usually did. “Kevin?” He pulled his blanket over his head. It smelled funny. Was he asleep or awake? Sometimes he was asleep and thought he was awake. Maybe Kevin was dead. Maybe there was no Kevin. Maybe an animal had chewed him up and would chew Sammy up next.
He made a big growly noise with his voice, then felt around and found a stick. Holding it made him feel braver. He sat with his knees up, and the stick ready. If a rat came out, he’d hit it on the head. He banged the stick down. It was good to have a plan. Plans made things better. That’s what Mrs. Hoffman said. His plan was, sit up this way all night, and in the morning, if Kevin wasn’t here, he’d find those power lines and go home. That was a good plan.
He was still sitting up, but asleep, when Kevin came back. Kevin lit a candle, then dropped his knapsack on the floor. “Free food,” he said. He pulled out a melon, some rolls, pieces of fried chicken, and other stuff. “Dig in,” he said, taking a piece of pizza.
Sammy reached for the chicken. It looked like somebody had bitten into it, but it tasted good. He ate it all, then a slice of pizza, then he reached for the chicken again. He put a lot of food in his mouth, like Kevin. At home, he had to chew each mouthful with his mouth closed. And no grabbing. And you waited until you were served.
“This is good food,” he said.
“It’s garbage. Man, people throw away good food all the time.”
“Garbage?”
“Yeah. You’re eating garbage.” Kevin wiped his hands on his pants. “Tastes pretty good, doesn’t it?”
Sammy burped. “This is delicious garbage.” He burped again. Then Kevin burped, a really loud one.
“I don’t bring back everything. This is the best of it. Garbage can kill you, too. When I was a little kid, I’d put anything in my mouth. Once, I ate bad meat from the neighbor’s garbage. I was four or five. I puked up all over myself, and the neighbor lady took me to the hospital. That was the time they took all us kids away.”
“Where’d they take you?”
“Into foster care. I didn’t even know what was good for me. I wanted to go back to my mother, I was that stupid.” He put the remains of the food in the pizza box. “I think of her now, and depending how I feel, I’m sorry for her. Stupid cow. I don’t know why I’m sorry. She never watched out for me, none of us. You heard of the old woman who lived in a shoe?”
“ ‘There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,’ ” Sammy recited. “ ‘She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do.’ ”
“That’s us. Except my mother wasn’t so old. There was Karl, Kenny, Kelly, Kelsey, and me, Kevin. Kelsey came after me.”
Sammy counted. “Five Ks,” he said.
“That house was a wreck when we moved in, and we kids finished the job. There was this social worker who came to our house. She wouldn’t sit down without looking behind her to see what someone had left on the seat. She told my mom if she didn’t pull herself together, the kids were going to go in foster care again. So Mom cleaned up, sort of, and then my father came home, and we had a ball till all the money was gone. Then there was nothing to eat in the house but pretzels and Kool-Aid. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Are you there?”
“I’m here,” Sammy said. He was lying down and his eyes were closed, but he was listening. He thought about being taken away from his mother. No. His mother would never let him go. Besides, they always had food in their house, not just pretzels. He wished his mother was here right now. He wished it a lot. She would hug him, and then she would probably say something nice to Kevin. Then she’d say, “Time to clean up this dirty place, boys!”