Bones & All by Camille Deangelis

they went back into the cold. His white teeth shone beneath his shiny black mustache.
    â€œOf course he’s not in his room.”
    â€œCheck the roof,” Mr. Gash said, laughing over his shoulder as he reached for my mother’s hand. “I’m so glad you could make it, Janelle.” He nodded to me. “Nice meeting you, Maren.” Then, turning back to my mother, he said in a low voice, “We’ll talk first thing Monday morning, all right? Looking forward to it.”
    Mrs. Gash went to the foot of the stairs. “Jamie! Jamie, where are you?”
    â€œMe too,” Mama said faintly. She glanced down at me, and I could see how hard she was straining not to show her panic, her horror. Every time this happened she got a little better at hiding it. You didn’t. Please say you didn’t.
    Mrs. Gash turned back to us. “You were playing with Jamie earlier, weren’t you, Maren?”
    I shrugged, keeping my eyes on her shoes. How could I look her in the face? I was very close to tears again, and Mrs. Gash made the assumption that saved me.
    â€œYou poor thing! I just know he said something to upset her. He’s a good boy, but he does have a tendency to alienate other children. A little too smart for his own good, if you know what I mean, Janelle. No harm done, I’m sure.”
    Mama wasn’t listening to a word Mrs. Gash was saying, and Mr. Gash was saying his goodbyes to someone else now. She clutched my hand so hard I gasped, and she took a step backward toward the front door, the wheels turning in her head all the while. She was calculating how long it would take us to pack and leave, tallying up a new list of disappointments. Come Monday there’d be no talk of a promotion—she’d never see any of these people again—and I felt her anger coursing down her arm, through her hand and into mine.
    Mrs. Gash folded her arms tight across her chest and looked over her shoulder. “He’s probably out back with his telescope. I’d better go and look for him.”
    â€œThank you for a lovely party,” my mother murmured.
    Jamie’s mother was already heading down the hallway toward the back door. “Thank you for coming, and drive safely,” she called as my mother turned the knob and pulled me out of the house. I wished so hard that I could undo it, that Mrs. Gash would find her son on the tire swing in the backyard, sulking because I wouldn’t pull down my underpants.
    We drove home in silence, ten miles above the speed limit the whole way. Mama glanced over when I took Jamie’s eyeglasses out of my pocket and turned them over in my hands. She never said a word. I’d finished my homework before the party, but I never turned it in.
    *   *   *
    That night I learned there are two kinds of hunger. The first I can satisfy with cheeseburgers and chocolate milk, but there’s a second part of me, biding its time. It can go on like that for months, maybe even years, but sooner or later I’ll give in to it. It’s like there’s a great big hole inside me, and once it takes his shape he’s the only thing that can fill it.

 
    3
    I couldn’t face standing in that coffee shop waiting like an idiot for someone to leave me his seat. With burning cheeks I hurried out of the diner and kept walking.
    A few blocks later I came to an Acme. I felt a little funny with my rucksack on my back but I went in anyway. I walked through the produce section, picked up an apple, circled around, and put it back. I turned the corner into the canned goods aisle and saw an elderly lady hurrying after a can rolling away along the shiny white linoleum. I picked it up and handed it to her.
    The old lady beamed at me through pearly-pink cat-eye reading glasses. She was dressed in a pale green jacket with a red silk rose pinned to the lapel, a gray tweed skirt, and leather oxford shoes, as if going to the grocery store