Savage by Thomas E. Sniegoski

right?” his father asked, squinting into the rain-swept wind.
    â€œYeah, everything looks good,” Cody answered.
    â€œI was watching you from the window, just standing there in the rain. You sure you’re all right?”
    His father knew the situation. Sidney hadn’t been one of his favorite people even before the breakup, and now . . .
    â€œYeah . . . just thinking.”
    â€œI’m sure.” His father stared at him for a moment with those eyes that always seemed to know more than they should. “Hungry?” he asked finally.
    â€œNo,” Cody answered. His stomach hadn’t felt right for days. He had no interest in eating.
    â€œYou need to eat.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œDid you have anything for breakfast?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou’re lying,” his father said matter-of-factly, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “Go on to the diner and get us some lunch. Cheeseburger will do it for me; get yourself whatever.”
    â€œI’m really not hungry,” Cody said as he took the money.
    â€œYou’ll be surprised when you have something.”
    â€œMaybe.” Cody shrugged.
    â€œI’ll hold down the fort till you get back,” his father said as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.
    Cody was already heading toward his truck when he heard his father’s voice again.
    â€œHas she called you back?”
    The young man stopped but did not turn. “No . . . not yet.”
    He braced himself, waiting for what the man would say next: Maybe it’s all for the best. . . . You can do better anyway. . . . You were always more serious than she was. . . . But he said nothing, which in Cody’s mind was the best thing he could have done.

CHAPTER TEN
    Isaac’s mother had found some walnuts.
    She had been moving a box of cookbooks that she’d bought at a church flea market a few years back and knocked a plastic bag that had been wedged beneath a pile of aluminum pie plates and plastic take-out containers onto the floor. When she bent down to pick up the bag, she’d found the whole walnuts inside.
    She had no idea where they’d come from or how long she’d had them, but she couldn’t imagine that they weren’t still good, and the perfect treat for her squirrel friends in the backyard.
    Isaac did not want to go outside. He could hear the wind pounding at the house, the rain spattering against the windows, but his mother insisted.
    â€œOur friends need their treat,” she told him as she put on the yellow slicker that she’d found beneath ten other coats hanging over the back of a dining room chair.
    Isaac knew enough not to argue with his mother, especially these days, especially since his sister Barbara had come back into their lives. Instead, he went to his room and grabbed his own raincoat from where it hung neatly in his closet.
    His mother called for him again, and Isaac pulled on his coat as he hurried down the hallway to the kitchen, careful not to slip on any of the debris that was in his path. She stood at the back door, hood over her head, plastic bag of walnuts in her hand.
    â€œHurry up,” she ordered, turning to open the door. There was a rush of wind into the kitchen, and it picked up stray pieces of paper and debris to create a mini tornado of trash.
    â€œHurry! Hurry!” she repeated. “Before the wind messes everything up!”
    Isaac thought things were pretty messy already, but he did as he was told, passing through the swirling litter and closing the door firmly behind him as he joined his mother on the stoop.
    From where he stood, Isaac could just about see Sidney’s yard and house. He craned his neck to see if she might be out, but then quickly chided himself. Why would she be outside on such a horrible day? Sometimes, like his mother often said, he just wasn’t thinking straight.
    The