Dad and jack-o-lanterns go way back. I asked Annie to show me how to make samosas and Granny brewed a strong draught of spicewood tea, and by nightfall, the four of us carried our covered pots and dishes outside for dinner.
Rafael dropped into a seat at the picnic table, closely scrunched in next to me, and started venting.
"She acts like she owns the ground she walks on. And she's always got to be the center of attention. And she won't stop making fun of my glasses."
I smiled angelically. Sometimes I was glad to be an only child.
"Shut up, Sky. Why did she have to come back here?"
I shot him a sideways look, concerned. I knew he loved his sister.
"It's not that. It's just... Never mind. Can I have a samosa? I like 'em."
It was some time later that Lila's friend Morgan Stout jumped from his seat and gasped.
"There's a wolf eating my dinner!" he cried.
That wasn't the sort of proclamation that could go ignored. Wolves usually keep a respectful distance from humans; whenever they cross that distance, it means danger.
Ten different people leapt up at the same time. A few shouted, paranoid. But then I heard Dr. Stout's voice rising above the crowd, reprimanding her son.
"It's just a coywolf, you loon!"
I thought: Now that's the pot calling the kettle black. Dr. Stout was as loony as they came.
Morgan's paper plate lay on the ground. Head bowed over the plate, Balto busily devoured the last of Morgan's jackrabbit.
"But..." said Morgan, distressed.
Coywolves will sometimes lurk around a human settlement looking for food scraps, but when there are a lot of people gathered in the same place at the same time, they typically stay away. I guess it was different for Balto. It wasn't like he had a pack to pick up normal coywolf behavior from.
Already the adults had gone back to their dinner, unfazed. Coywolves are like coyotes in that they really don't want to hurt humans. I clapped my hands twice, briskly, and Balto abandoned Morgan's plate and sprinted over to the picnic table. I bent over the bench to give Balto the rest of my pumpkin pie.
"He thinks you're his mom," Rafael said dryly.
I sat up straight and leveled Rafael with an unamused gaze.
"Seriously. He'll probably wanna follow you indoors. Are you gonna let him in bed with you?"
Rafael stopped and checked himself. He lapsed into an appreciative sort of contemplative silence I didn't know how to interpret.
Balto licked his plate clean and watched me expectantly, his tail thumping against the soil. I reached down and stroked the scruff of his neck. He curled up comfortably beneath the picnic table, and Dad came and sat opposite Rafael and me.
"Hello," Dad began stiltedly.
I waved and grinned. Rafael stared openly, like Dad was a ghastly apparition.
"It's nice out, tonight," Dad went on.
Really, Dad? I thought. You sound pretty uncertain about that.
I kicked Rafael under the table. He started.
"Uh," said Rafael. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Sir."
It was impossible to tell which of the two was more socially stunted. I felt the strong urge to let my forehead fall into my palm. Instead I smiled, my chin on my hand, my elbow on the scrubbed table, and looked between the two of them.
"So," Dad said.
"Yeah," Rafael said quickly.
"Alright," Dad said. He nodded politely, rising from the table. "Have a good night, Rafael."
"Yeah. I mean, okay. Thanks."
Granny and Dad and I went home together after the bonfire had been extinguished. Dad lit the hearth for the cold autumn night. I caught Dad by the arm before he could retreat to bed.
"What is it?" Dad asked.
I lifted my eyebrows.
Dad coughed into his fist, stalling for time. I waited patiently.
"There's nothing wrong with trying to get to know my son's boyfriend," he said
Rafael dropped into a seat at the picnic table, closely scrunched in next to me, and started venting.
"She acts like she owns the ground she walks on. And she's always got to be the center of attention. And she won't stop making fun of my glasses."
I smiled angelically. Sometimes I was glad to be an only child.
"Shut up, Sky. Why did she have to come back here?"
I shot him a sideways look, concerned. I knew he loved his sister.
"It's not that. It's just... Never mind. Can I have a samosa? I like 'em."
It was some time later that Lila's friend Morgan Stout jumped from his seat and gasped.
"There's a wolf eating my dinner!" he cried.
That wasn't the sort of proclamation that could go ignored. Wolves usually keep a respectful distance from humans; whenever they cross that distance, it means danger.
Ten different people leapt up at the same time. A few shouted, paranoid. But then I heard Dr. Stout's voice rising above the crowd, reprimanding her son.
"It's just a coywolf, you loon!"
I thought: Now that's the pot calling the kettle black. Dr. Stout was as loony as they came.
Morgan's paper plate lay on the ground. Head bowed over the plate, Balto busily devoured the last of Morgan's jackrabbit.
"But..." said Morgan, distressed.
Coywolves will sometimes lurk around a human settlement looking for food scraps, but when there are a lot of people gathered in the same place at the same time, they typically stay away. I guess it was different for Balto. It wasn't like he had a pack to pick up normal coywolf behavior from.
Already the adults had gone back to their dinner, unfazed. Coywolves are like coyotes in that they really don't want to hurt humans. I clapped my hands twice, briskly, and Balto abandoned Morgan's plate and sprinted over to the picnic table. I bent over the bench to give Balto the rest of my pumpkin pie.
"He thinks you're his mom," Rafael said dryly.
I sat up straight and leveled Rafael with an unamused gaze.
"Seriously. He'll probably wanna follow you indoors. Are you gonna let him in bed with you?"
Rafael stopped and checked himself. He lapsed into an appreciative sort of contemplative silence I didn't know how to interpret.
Balto licked his plate clean and watched me expectantly, his tail thumping against the soil. I reached down and stroked the scruff of his neck. He curled up comfortably beneath the picnic table, and Dad came and sat opposite Rafael and me.
"Hello," Dad began stiltedly.
I waved and grinned. Rafael stared openly, like Dad was a ghastly apparition.
"It's nice out, tonight," Dad went on.
Really, Dad? I thought. You sound pretty uncertain about that.
I kicked Rafael under the table. He started.
"Uh," said Rafael. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Sir."
It was impossible to tell which of the two was more socially stunted. I felt the strong urge to let my forehead fall into my palm. Instead I smiled, my chin on my hand, my elbow on the scrubbed table, and looked between the two of them.
"So," Dad said.
"Yeah," Rafael said quickly.
"Alright," Dad said. He nodded politely, rising from the table. "Have a good night, Rafael."
"Yeah. I mean, okay. Thanks."
Granny and Dad and I went home together after the bonfire had been extinguished. Dad lit the hearth for the cold autumn night. I caught Dad by the arm before he could retreat to bed.
"What is it?" Dad asked.
I lifted my eyebrows.
Dad coughed into his fist, stalling for time. I waited patiently.
"There's nothing wrong with trying to get to know my son's boyfriend," he said
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