to it, and I followed.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. It was like he was calling me, but it was faint. I could feel its will or whatever. It wanted to be alive. He didn't want to die.”
Dad put his elbow on his knee and cupped his chin. “It hasn't been mentioned that Parker has this ability. As a point of fact, I haven't heard that this is a part of AFTD.”
Mom asked, “Would Caleb's ability to bring something back from the brink of death still be the same thing, categorized similarly?”
“Perhaps...” Dad rubbed his stubbled chin. “We'll have to put some things to the test and see exactly where his abilities reside.”
Fear shot through me. I wanted to use the AFTD. Using it made the whispering almost disappear. It felt good, right . So far, all AFTD had gotten me was two enemies at school and a dog's reclaimed life that brought notice from an observant cop.
“What are you thinking, Kyle?” Mom asked. “That we give him a pre-aptitude test?”
Dad nodded. “Exactly. If we can nail down his skill set, we’ll know how to defend him and help him decide his future.”
“Maybe Caleb doesn't want to be some government lackey,” John said.
That was exactly what I'd been thinking.
“It's a terrifying proposition, the loss of one's freedom,” Dad said.
“I think I want the dog,” I blurted.
My parents looked at me with identical expressions of shock.
“Why, Caleb?” Mom asked.
“Because I feel responsible for it now.”
“We can't just go and take in everything you… raise or save, son.”
John smirked.
I had to agree that the whole situation was kind of funny in a perverse way.
“I know, but when I think about him...”
“It's a he?” Mom asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, how do you know?” she asked.
“I just do, Mom. It's all part of it. Anyway, I can hear him if I listen, and he's lonely for me.”
John gave me a puzzled look.
I answered his unspoken question. “Yeah, and he doesn't like wherever he is.”
Dad held up his hand. “Let's just say, hypothetically, that we were to agree to letting this dog become your pet. What would that mean for you?”
More chores. Dogs had to have food and water, and he would make a mess in the yard. (Guess who'd clean that up... oh joy.)
I said, “Responsibility, I guess.”
“And?” His expression was unhelpfully neutral.
My mind went blank. I couldn't think of a thing.
“You're fourteen now, Caleb—almost fifteen. You have four years left until graduation, and then the dog would have to become our pet.”
“We're not sure we want that, Caleb,” Mom said.
“Oh.” I hadn't really considered that. “Can you think about it at least?”
“I see that you're anxious, son, but we can't make a snap decision.”
“It's important to me, Dad.”
Dad stood up and clapped me on the shoulder.
Mom came to stand behind him, her gaze steady on mine. They'd think about it.
John said he had to go and told me to read the rest of the papers.
“Yeah, okay.” I'd been planning to do that, anyway.
***
Dad sat down heavily in his usual seat for supper, steepled his hands, and looked at me. I popped a large piece of lasagna into my mouth and did the tongue dance, realizing too late that the food was hot as hell.
“I know you've been through a lot today, Caleb,” Dad said, but I’m fascinated with how this connection with the dog unfolded.”
Mom rescued me. “Why don't you let him finish eating, and we can get the gory details afterward, hmm?”
Mom knew about The Hunger. I would often say, “I Hunger , ” which loosely translated meant “What is there to eat in this house in the next five seconds?” My friends also had The Hunger, and we'd fall upon the kitchen table like locusts, and The Hunger would be abated, temporarily.
“So, Caleb, what's going on beside dead stuff?” Mom turned, one hand on her hip, and carefully set a glass in front of Dad. She just missed jingling one of the tiny bells of her skirt. I was fascinated
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