Nobody’s behind the shower curtain or in our closet or under our beds. I’m up in my bunk saying the things that will keep us all from dying and keep the baby bunnies safe when someone knocks on the front door. Before I even have a chance to worry about who it’s going to be, Mom’s opening up the door, saying, “Gordy? Come in, sweetie.” She called Gordy sweetie! Now she’s saying, “It’s okay, the girls are in bed.” The door just closed so I guess Gordy’s in our house now. Gordy Morgan is in our house.
Tana was saying her prayers and Polly was blowing her nose but now we’re all quiet. Tana says shhh and gets out of bed, so Polly and I get out of bed too. We slide our socks behind Tana’s socks, across the floor, into the hall, over to the stairs. We sit down so slowly, it’s like we’re afraid our legs might creak. We lean our ears over our knees but we can’t hear anything because Dad’s in the bathroom and he just turned on his toothbrush.
Tana holds her finger to her lips and slips her bottom over the steps until she’s halfway down the stairs. I go next, then Polly, then we’re three heads hanging over our knees, trying to hear why Gordy Morgan’s at our house.
“I don’t want Gordy Morgan at our house,” Polly whispers.
It sounds like Gordy’s crying but we don’t know why, then Polly coughs so now Mom knows about us sitting on the stairs. “Girls! Back to bed!”
We follow Tana up the stairs but we don’t go back to our room. We lie down on our stomachs at the top of the stairs and listen for more.
We can hear talking but we can’t hear words over all Dad’s brushing and spitting. They’re in the kitchen so probably Gordy’s getting a snack because he’s sad. Maybe cocoa and cookies.
“Do you think he killed someone with his gun?” Polly whispers.
“He doesn’t have his gun yet,” I whisper so quietly I can barely even hear myself. “His birthday isn’t till September twenty-third, remember?”
We want to stay awake until Gordy leaves, we want to ask Mom why he’s at our house, but Dad comes out of the bathroom and tells us to get to bed. “Shhhh!” we say, but it’s too late, now Gordy knows about us listening, even though we couldn’t hear a single word he said!
At breakfast we stand around Mom while she flips the bacon and toasts the toast and spreads the butter.
“What did he want?”
“Why was he crying?”
“Why did he come to our house?”
“What did you say to him?”
“Let’s get our breakfast on the table first,” Mom says. But we’re more questions at the cereal cabinet and more questions at the fridge. We are questions getting spoons and questions pouring milk.
While we eat our bacon and Honey Smacks, Mom says, “Gordy has a harder life than you girls. Gordy’s mom isn’t well.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Does she have the throw-ups?” Polly asks.
“Probably cancer,” Tana says.
“No,” Mom says, “not that kind of sick. She just isn’t able to take care of her boys the way moms are supposed to.”
“Like baby bunny’s mom?” Polly says.
“What about Gordy’s dad?” Gordy’s dad is eating him up, he’s chewing on Gordy’s head.
“Well, he isn’t a whole lot better than Gordy’s mom.”
I’ve seen Gordy’s mom plenty of times. When we’re walking by Gordy’s house on our way home from school she’ll be sitting on her front porch in her pajamas, smoking a cigarette or drinking her coffee. I’ve heard her yelling too. Sometimes it’s the dog she yells at and sometimes it’s Gordy, and sometimes I can’t tell if it’s the dog or Gordy. I’ve only seen Gordy’s dad maybe three times. He isn’t much taller than Gordy’s brother Nate, and he has the same kind of sticking-up hair as Gordy except it’s darker. Gordy got brown from his mom and straight from his dad. I wonder if he got their kind of sick too. I wonder if that’s why Gordy is the way he is. And Nate. I heard Nate’s even scarier than Gordy, but he’s only mean to boys. He’s a year older than Tana so he likes girls too much to beat them up. That’s what I heard.
Tana says, “But why would he come over here? We aren’t even friends with him!”
Mom says she doesn’t know. “Maybe he didn’t have anywhere else to go.”