to drink. It had been like this. Not perfect, but still, I was at least happy to come home.
She was preparing two plates for us when the door opened and my father stepped inside. In a flash, I could tell he'd been drinking, but also that he wasn't wasted-nowhere close to it. He nodded at me. 'Like your gift?'
'I can't believe it. Thanks, Dad.'
'Think we can shoot some aliens after dinner?'
'That would be cool.'
'It came with a game, didn't it?'
''Killzone 3'.'
'Then 'Killzone 3,' it is.'
My mother came around the table and asked us to take our seats. When we did, she went to my father and kissed him on the cheek before going to make a plate for him. I couldn't remember the last time the three of us sat down together for a meal. It was foreign to me, but I have to admit it felt good, even if it was kind of weird.
'You're bulking up,' Dad said.
'I'm trying. It's hard for me to put on muscle.'
'You should try out for football this year. They could use someone like you. You're fast, you're getting a good build. Why not give it a try?'
If only he knew. But with Alex trying out for the team, I thought about it. Maybe getting involved in sports was the game-changer I needed, especially if I played well. Tyler and Hastings were each on the team, so it would be hell at first, but the key was being able to play. If I could convince them that I could, they might back off.
'I can try,' I said.
'For me, that would be cool.'
My mother put a plate filled with spaghetti and meatballs in front of me and my father. She got her own, turned to the counter behind her and got a basket of French bread. She went to the refrigerator and asked what everyone wanted to drink.
'Just water for me,' I said.
My father looked at me. 'Same here.'
'Three waters, it is.'
I dug into the spaghetti and it was good. I had a piece of bread, dipped it into the sauce and it was good. I raised my water glass and gave a toast to my mother for getting her old job back. Then my mother raised her glass and toasted me on my eighteenth birthday. I couldn't leave my father out of this. Quickly, I raised my glass and made another toast. 'And here's to kicking your ass on 'Killzone 3'.'
He actually laughed at that and it was at that moment that I realized just how hard not having jobs had been on them. It was as if the entire atmosphere had changed in the wake of my mother getting a job, and while I wished my Dad had come home straight, maybe one day he would.
'You're going to kick my ass?' he said, sticking a fork into a meatball and swirling it in the sauce. There was the hint of a smile on his lips when he popped the meatball into his mouth. 'I don't know,” he said. “I've got moves you don't know about.'
'Game on,' I said.
'Game on,' he agreed.
It was one of the best nights the three of us had together in over a year. And while I was good at the game, my father also was good-like, really good-which surprised me and made the challenge tougher than I expected as we tried to blow each other away while aliens attacked.
We played for hours, the game's graphics were beyond incredible and my father had only one drink the entire time. My mother drank Diet Coke. When he was finished with his Vodka, he asked her if she wouldn't mind pouring him some of her soda, which she did.
This I could deal with. They were making an effort. We were having fun, like we used to do.
But it was getting late and I had school in the morning. I needed to get to bed because I needed to be sharp in case something else happened, which it likely would. When we were at a stopping point, we turned off the game, my father stretched back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. He looked at me with a smirk. 'I think we just kicked each other's asses.'
I wasn't arguing with that-it was the truth.
I got up to leave for my bedroom, but turned to them before walking inside. 'This has been fun. The food was great and the game was beyond. Thanks for a great birthday.'
'You deserve it,' my mother said.
'I was thinking of working in the yard this weekend,' I said. 'Those ruts in the driveway would make for a good workout. So would getting the house ready for winter and putting the garden to bed. I'm meeting some friends for a couple of hours on Saturday, but the rest of the weekend I have to myself. I can do it if you want.'
'Are you kidding?' my father said. 'Have at it, kid. I'll get Jim over here and we'll watch you work.'
I smiled at that. 'Jim's a good guy,' I said.
'I know he is.'
'I misjudged him.'
My father shrugged. 'It happens. Like everyone else, he ain't perfect. He's got a good heart. Just a little rough around the edges. He hasn't had it easy. I think all of us can appreciate that.'
For the first time in a long time, I slept well.
What began as a difficult day ended on a high note, something I never saw coming. The kids at school didn't matter to me. Unless I was dealing with a group, which was untested waters for me, I think I had the tools to deal with all of them.
But having my parents back, at least in some capacity-even if it was a fragile capacity-meant a lot to me.
I was thinking about this as I drifted off to sleep. I was thinking that with the amulet, maybe I could help my father find a job.
But would that be fair? Was that the right course to take? My mother found a job on her own. There was no interference by me-and that meant something because I knew she’d done it herself.
I can’t interfere with everything. If I do, I could create a false world in which nothing is real, a person’s accomplishments mean nothing and all I’m living is an illusion manufactured by my imagination.
It was late when I was awakened by something that sounded like a pop.
My bedroom window was open. I opened my eyes and listened but couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Was I dreaming? Maybe. The pop sounded like one of the guns in ‘Killzone 3.’ It was weird. I also could smell gasoline, but that wasn’t unusual because my father’s junker of a truck was parked outside my window.
I turned onto my side, closed my eyes and started to drift off, but this time I heard a whoosh and the sound of footsteps hurrying away from the house.
This was no dream.
I sat up in bed and pressed my face against the window screen. I tapped into the amulet and allowed my mind to see through the dark.
I could see shapes backing away from the house and moving toward the road. I focused harder and the shapes revealed themselves to be Jake Tyler, Mike Hastings, Ginny Gibson and at least a dozen others, many from the very football team my father wanted me to join.
All were turning now to take a right onto the street. They started running. Meanwhile, outside, at the far end of the trailer where my parents' bedroom was located, there was a sudden burst of orange light.
It was fire. They'd set the trailer on fire.
I got out of bed quickly.
Too quickly.
I tripped on the sheet wrapped around my leg and smashed my head against the side table, which went down with me.
Dazed, I pushed myself up. I could smell smoke. I could feel heat. I went to my door and opened it to a sudden rush of flames that blew into the room and ate the oxygen within it.
