Snow stiffened. “I need to talk to you,” he said again, louder this time.
When Gran didn’t move, he said, “You can’t turn your back forever, Mom. Not anymore. I’ll get an answer. You owe me that. And this time, it will be more than twenty words.”
Gran shook her head again, and one hand came up over her ear.
“Leave her be,” I whispered to Andrew Snow. “Please just let her alone.”
Andrew Snow didn’t answer me, but he stood there, his hand so white on the doorknob that I took a step back, sure he was going to slam it. But he only held it there for another minute. Then he shook his head, sighed, and closed the door.
T he next day, after checking that all the doors and windows were secured, Andrew Snow left us downstairs alone while he took a shower. The minute he heard the water run, Rew, who’d been slumping on the stairs, unraveling part of the old carpet that padded the steps, took off for the kitchen. I followed him and found him yanking open drawers, rifling through them, and then slamming them shut.
“What are you looking for?” I asked him. “You saw him take the key.”
Scraps of paper, pens, and the occasional bottle cap went flying as he dug around.
“Something,” he said. “Anything. He thinks we’re helpless. We can’t do anything. Well, he doesn’t
know
us.”
I didn’t see what pawing through the kitchen drawers was going to get us. I started to tell him the project was hopeless, but he ignored me. Finally, he let out a happy little cry and pulled out the one sharp thing in the kitchen, a long paring knife we used to cut vegetables, when we had them.
“Rew,” I said.
He grinned and ran over to the kitchen door, jabbing the knife tip into the lock. He jiggled it, shoved it in deeper, and twisted it again. He grimaced with the effort of it, closing his eyes as he worked the knife into the lock. Nothing clicked. He pulled it out to find the knife tip bent at a new angle.
“Stupid knife,” he said, pressing it on the counter and trying to force it back into shape. He grunted with the effort.
I’d pulled out a kitchen chair to watch him work, but now I got up to see if I could help. A sound from the living room made us turn.
Andrew Snow, hair dripping, was standing in the kitchen doorway. His eyes darted to the knife in Rew’s hand, and he lunged across the room so fast neither of us had time to react. His fingers clamped round Rew’s wrist, and he shook it once, hard. The knife clattered to the floor.
Andrew Snow bent swiftly and pocketed it. When he looked up again, his face was as blotchy as Rew’s. He advanced on my brother, and I pushed my way in between them, just in case. Through his wet, smelly shirt, I could see his chest heaving, but when he spoke, it was almost a whisper.
“You know what it is to cut someone? You know what that’s like?” he asked. His eyes were so wide open, I had to look away. “You want to see someone’s blood come?”
Behind me I could hear Rew breathing heavy.
“You think about that,” Andrew Snow said. “You think if that’s something you want to see now.”
I wanted to run, but I turned to see Rew staring straight ahead, quaking with outrage. He looked like he’d swallowed something rotten, and he pulled away from us both, pushing past Andrew Snow and stomping toward the living room.
At the door, he turned, face blazing.
“You think I’d be like you?” Rew spat. “Is that what you think? I’d rather
die
than be like you.”
Then he spun around and ran upstairs.
I stood, my back pressed against the counter, Andrew Snow still too close to me, half turned as he watched Rew go. He stood rigid, unmoving except for his hands, which were balled into fists so tight they shook.
“He was only trying to pick the lock,” I said quietly. “He wasn’t going to hurt you.”
Andrew Snow didn’t look at me. He stood like that, too still, until I’d slipped past him and fled the kitchen.
O n the fifth day of our
When Gran didn’t move, he said, “You can’t turn your back forever, Mom. Not anymore. I’ll get an answer. You owe me that. And this time, it will be more than twenty words.”
Gran shook her head again, and one hand came up over her ear.
“Leave her be,” I whispered to Andrew Snow. “Please just let her alone.”
Andrew Snow didn’t answer me, but he stood there, his hand so white on the doorknob that I took a step back, sure he was going to slam it. But he only held it there for another minute. Then he shook his head, sighed, and closed the door.
T he next day, after checking that all the doors and windows were secured, Andrew Snow left us downstairs alone while he took a shower. The minute he heard the water run, Rew, who’d been slumping on the stairs, unraveling part of the old carpet that padded the steps, took off for the kitchen. I followed him and found him yanking open drawers, rifling through them, and then slamming them shut.
“What are you looking for?” I asked him. “You saw him take the key.”
Scraps of paper, pens, and the occasional bottle cap went flying as he dug around.
“Something,” he said. “Anything. He thinks we’re helpless. We can’t do anything. Well, he doesn’t
know
us.”
I didn’t see what pawing through the kitchen drawers was going to get us. I started to tell him the project was hopeless, but he ignored me. Finally, he let out a happy little cry and pulled out the one sharp thing in the kitchen, a long paring knife we used to cut vegetables, when we had them.
“Rew,” I said.
He grinned and ran over to the kitchen door, jabbing the knife tip into the lock. He jiggled it, shoved it in deeper, and twisted it again. He grimaced with the effort of it, closing his eyes as he worked the knife into the lock. Nothing clicked. He pulled it out to find the knife tip bent at a new angle.
“Stupid knife,” he said, pressing it on the counter and trying to force it back into shape. He grunted with the effort.
I’d pulled out a kitchen chair to watch him work, but now I got up to see if I could help. A sound from the living room made us turn.
Andrew Snow, hair dripping, was standing in the kitchen doorway. His eyes darted to the knife in Rew’s hand, and he lunged across the room so fast neither of us had time to react. His fingers clamped round Rew’s wrist, and he shook it once, hard. The knife clattered to the floor.
Andrew Snow bent swiftly and pocketed it. When he looked up again, his face was as blotchy as Rew’s. He advanced on my brother, and I pushed my way in between them, just in case. Through his wet, smelly shirt, I could see his chest heaving, but when he spoke, it was almost a whisper.
“You know what it is to cut someone? You know what that’s like?” he asked. His eyes were so wide open, I had to look away. “You want to see someone’s blood come?”
Behind me I could hear Rew breathing heavy.
“You think about that,” Andrew Snow said. “You think if that’s something you want to see now.”
I wanted to run, but I turned to see Rew staring straight ahead, quaking with outrage. He looked like he’d swallowed something rotten, and he pulled away from us both, pushing past Andrew Snow and stomping toward the living room.
At the door, he turned, face blazing.
“You think I’d be like you?” Rew spat. “Is that what you think? I’d rather
die
than be like you.”
Then he spun around and ran upstairs.
I stood, my back pressed against the counter, Andrew Snow still too close to me, half turned as he watched Rew go. He stood rigid, unmoving except for his hands, which were balled into fists so tight they shook.
“He was only trying to pick the lock,” I said quietly. “He wasn’t going to hurt you.”
Andrew Snow didn’t look at me. He stood like that, too still, until I’d slipped past him and fled the kitchen.
O n the fifth day of our
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