Mom nodded. “As long as he’s not getting into any trouble,” she muttered.
We had lunch, then Mom did the ironing in the living room while I watched the football game on the television. It was so quiet without Dad there. When Dad was there he would perch right on the edge of the couch whenever someone came close to scoring a try, and he would yell at the television as though just by yelling he could make it happen. Wills would join in, leaping on and off the couch and getting in my way, so that if someone did score a try I would often miss it. At least I wouldn’t miss anything today—except my dad, and even Wills a bit, if I was honest, because nothing was the same.
Wills still wasn’t back by dinnertime, and I could see that Mom was beginning to get really, really worried. She kept looking out of the window and jumping at every sound that might have been the front door. I was so angry with my dad. He should have been there to help Mom; he should have been there to go and find Wills. But if he had been there, Wills wouldn’t have disappeared in the first place, would he? So it was all his fault. The door finally banged when we were washing the dishes and Wills’s food was becoming overcooked in the oven. He came into the kitchen, sat down at the table, and said, “What’s for dinner, Mom?” as though nothing had happened.
“Where’ve you been, Wills?” Mom asked. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“What’s there to worry about, Mom?” laughed Wills.
“I didn’t know where you were, that’s all,” frowned Mom, “and I knew you were upset.”
“Nothing to be upset about,” Wills laughed again. “I just went down the canal with some friends. Come on, Mom, I’m starving.”
“It’s probably ruined by now,” Mom scolded.
“I didn’t see you down the canal,” I said, while Mom fetched Wills’s food from the oven.
“You weren’t looking in the right place, then,” said Wills. “Anyway, we went to the stores as well.”
I didn’t bother to say that I’d been to the stores too. I just wished Mom would tell Wills off for disappearing like that and worrying us, but I supposed that she didn’t want to upset him again, that she just wanted to keep the peace, what with Dad not being there to help and Wills being in a good mood.
A loud crack of knife-against-plate was followed by a piece of pork skimming across the kitchen and on to the floor. Wills cackled loudly.
“Did you see that, Chris? Did you see that, Mom? Is that what they mean by ‘pigs might fly’?”
“Don’t play with your food, please, William,” said Mom.
“I wasn’t playing,” retorted Wills. “It just leapt off my plate when I cut it. It’s because it’s so hard. Watch this.”
“I’ll cut it up for you,” Mom said quickly, grabbing hold of Wills’s knife and fork.
“Are you going to feed me as well?” giggled Wills. “Pretend it’s a train going into a tunnel.”
He opened his mouth wide and flapped his arms like a baby. I couldn’t help laughing, he looked so funny. Mom stifled a smile and told me not to encourage him, while Wills made googoo ga-ga noises then blew up his face, pretended to fill his napkin, and farted loudly. “William, that’s enough!” cried Mom. “Not at the table.”
“Goo-goo ga-ga,” chuckled Wills. “Dadadadadada, Dada gone. Goo-goo ga-ga.”
Mom’s face changed and I could see she was getting tearful. Why couldn’t Wills just leave it alone?
“Do you want to play on the computer with me?” I asked him. I didn’t really want to because playing computer games with Wills makes me go crazy, but at least it would take his mind off Dad and give Mom a break. Wills leapt down from the table and ran into the front room.
“POW, POW, P-P P-OW! Let’s shoot ‘em up, kiddo!” he yelled.
“You all right, Mom?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “You go off and play.”
Wills had bagged the best controller and had pulled an armchair right up in front of the screen. There wasn’t room for another chair, so I had to perch on the arm of his. A race game was on hold—GROAN!
“Ready, kiddo,” said Wills. “You’re bike number four.”
He turned up the volume as high as it would go and began to make acceleration noises.
“Go, kiddo, go, go, go.” I pushed the button for forward and the one for fast and I shot away from the start ahead of Wills and the computer-generated bikes. Within seconds I’d done a high-speed wheelie somersault straight into a rock and the other bikes surged past me.
“Great crash, kiddo!” yelled Wills, and then he whooped for joy as he overtook one of the computer-generated bikes.
I righted my bike and pushed forward again, more slowly this time, but the bike lurched side-ways and back across the road. Wills was bouncing up and down in the chair now, and every time his bottom left the seat my perch lurched sideways along with my bike.
“I’m gonna overtake again, watch this.” Wills was almost screaming by now. “Watch this, watch this. Here we go. Yeh! I am the cham-pi-on.”
His bike tore across the line in first place. Wills leapt from the chair, catapulting me on to the floor, and threw his controller across the room.
“Had enough of that,” he said. “S’boring playing a cripple like you.”
He fell on to the couch, picked up the remote control, switched on the television with the volume up loud, and began to flick from channel to channel, barely stopping long enough to see what was on.
Mom came to the door. “Turn it down, Wills, please,” she said.
“S’not loud,” retorted Wills.
“It is loud, and we’ll have the neighbors complaining.”
“Nag, nag, nag,” said Wills, and he turned it up as loud as it would go.
“Stop it, Wills,” I yelled. “You’re not even watching anything.” I grabbed the remote control from him and turned off the
