Fallout by Todd Strasser Page A

it.”
    Mom glanced outside, squinting at the brightness. “That’s very thoughtful of you, sweetheart.” She started toward the refrigerator, then paused to wipe something out of the corner of her eye.
    â€œYou okay?” I asked.
    â€œYes, Scott.” She took out the pitcher of iced tea and put it on the platter, then left the kitchen without another word.

After a while, Dad unfolds the card table and invites the others to sit. There are four chairs, and Mr. and Mrs. Shaw and Mr. McGovern sit in three of them. Paula sits on her father’s lap. Dad returns to Mom’s side.
    â€œYou sit with them,” Janet says to him. “I’ll stay with Mrs. Porter.”
    Dad hesitates, then gets up, letting Janet take his place. At the table, the grown-ups sit silently in the dim light. Sparky picks at the lint on the scratchy army blanket we’re huddled under. Ronnie gnaws at his fingernails.
    â€œYou kids want to play a game?” Dad asks.
    Paula shakes her head. Ronnie gives me a questioning look. I’m still uncertain about whether to be angry about the fight, and somehow it feels wrong to play games when everything is so serious. But there’s nothing else to do, so I lean toward the shelf to get the checkerboard.
    â€œHey!” Sparky yelps when I accidentally pull some blanket away from him, leaving parts of his naked body exposed to the cool air and others’ eyes. He yanks the blanket back, and the next thing I know, I’m completely naked.
    By the time my eyes go to Paula, she’s looking away, but I have a feeling that’s not where she was looking an instant ago. Ronnie grins his jerky grin, which makes me mad at him all over again. I grab the blanket and manage to cover myself, but Sparky grabs it back, and soon we’re in a tug-of-war.
    â€œStop it!” Dad orders, getting up. “I’ve got an idea.”
    He holds my damp pajamas under the ventilator while Mr. McGovern turns the crank and blows air on them. After a while, Paula’s dad stops to rest, and Mr. Shaw takes over. After two cranks, he’s frowning. You can see that it’s harder than he expected. His eyes go to his wife.
    â€œDo you have to keep doing that?” Mrs. Shaw asks. “It’s cold enough in here.”
    Dad backs away from the ventilator and hands the pajamas to me. They’re cold and still damp.
    â€œSit on them,” Mr. McGovern suggests. “They’ll get warmer.”
    I do what he says, and it’s not long before the pajamas stop feeling cold under my butt. While Paula looks away, I pull on the top and then the bottoms. They’re still damp in spots, and when Sparky leans close and sniffs, he wrinkles his nose. But at least now I can get out from under the blanket.
    Meanwhile, Ronnie’s looking at the checkerboard. Our eyes meet, but I’m still mad at him for grinning when Sparky pulled the blanket off me. If our parents weren’t here, I’d tell him he’d have to apologize before I’d play with him. Only knowing Ronnie, he never would.
    Sparky and I thumb wrestle. To keep it interesting, I let him win a couple of times, but it gets boring just the same. He’s still wrapped in the blanket. I doubt he’d wear his pajamas even if Dad dried them. He’s much pickier about things like that than I am. After a while, he says, “Dad, I’m hungry.”
    â€œWe’re all hungry, Edward.”
    â€œBut, Dad . . . ” he whines.
    â€œLet him have something,” Mrs. Shaw says.
    â€œThere won’t be enough food to —” Dad begins, but Mrs. Shaw cuts him short.
    â€œHe’s a child and he’s scared. Food comforts them. We’ll worry about running out later.”
    Dad sighs as if he disagrees but has decided not to argue. It feels strange to hear Mrs. Shaw talk about comfort food, since whenever I ate at their house, she made TV dinners.
    While Dad starts to open