them seems to be her default in a crisis. It used to make me sad to watch her, but now it worries me. Dad and I stare at the shoes as she rubs, but neither of us says anything. What is there to say, really?
Even though Will’s house is across the street and up by the gate—too far to make out the faces of the people milling around out front—I know he is the person leaning against the porch rail. I watch as he turns his head in our direction. He doesn’t wave, though, and neither do I. This is not the time for casual greetings. Marie is twohouses over in the other direction, pacing her porch like it’s a cage. Brian’s house is too far down the line for me to see clearly, but I’m sure he’s doing the same thing we are, waiting to be punished. People pass us on their way to their own homes, but they don’t stop to talk or even look up at us, save for the occasional furtive glance. We’re as good as marked right now, outcasts until the punishments have been doled out. Later, no one will speak of it. Things will go back to normal. But it doesn’t make their avoidance any less hurtful. In a way, it’s like the uncomfortable punishment appetizer before the more brutal main course.
“Best to take it willingly and silently,” Dad finally says, his eyes focused on some point in the front yard. His foot pushes off of the porch and slowly sets the swing in motion. “Crying won’t help.”
I feel my insides tremble, my breath catch.
Mom says, “He loves you. Like we do. Sometimes when you love someone, you have to do things you don’t want to do—to teach them something they need to know. It’s that way with kids. You have to be firm.” Her fingers travel the shoes a little quicker. “If we’d done a better job of it with Karen …” Her voice trails off. She looks down the road in the direction of the front gate.
Dad opens his mouth to say something, but then drops his head and shuts it again. He pats my leg. “I’m sure you won’t do anything like this again. Whatever happens now is just the consequence. The lesson’s already hit home, right?”
I nod and he puts an arm around my back. His fingersrest lightly on my shoulder. I lean into him and we grow quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I’ve always tried to be good since Karen, to make up for leaving her alone. I’ve worked pretty hard not to worry Mom or Dad. They’ve worried enough already for a lifetime. It bothers me that I’m failing now.
The night begins to fade around us by degrees, but we stay where we are. We swing silently, our legs pressing together and apart with the motion of the swing, and wait.
Mr. Whitcomb and Mr. Brown are on our front porch just before dawn, before any of us have had a chance to really settle down. The Community’s doctor, Mr. Kincaid, is behind them, standing on our sidewalk with a first-aid kit in his hand. My stomach clenches. I have an overwhelming urge to run. Whatever Pioneer’s got planned, it’s going to hurt.
My mom walks me down the porch steps k pon. Whaand hands me over to them without a word. I look over my shoulder at my dad. He stays where he is. He’s tensed but still. His hands grip the swing’s seat, but his face is set, determined.
I bite my lip to keep from crying. I don’t want to be a baby about what’s coming. Still, my legs won’t move at first and Mr. Whitcomb has to nudge me toward the road. My mom makes these tiny sounds in her throat as we leave her behind and head up the street. I know she wants to get me out of whatever’s coming somehow, but she can’t and I won’t encourage her guilt by looking back.
Brian, Will, and Marie join us on the road. They’rebeing prodded along by several more adults. I try to say hello, but my voice is caught in the tightened muscles of my throat. Will moves to walk on one side of me and Marie positions herself on the other. Brian squeezes in on her other side. The adults bring up the rear.
For a brief moment I imagine us
Daniel G. Amen
Avril Ashton
Naomi Litvin
Jill McGown
Louis L'amour
Alison Atlee
Katy Madison
Samantha Price
Clark Ashton Smith
Kelly Curry