Chapter 19: Nobody Is Bobby

On Saturday I went home for my winter coat and found my father wearing sunglasses at the kitchen table.

I had signed Dot's Showcase sheet the night before, in pen, before I could talk myself out of it.

The sunglasses were the gold aviators.

He had them on over his reading glasses, and he was holding a coffee mug just out of Mom's reach.

"Mrs. Halvorson," he said, in his deepest voice. "You have been caught skipping sleep."

Mom stood at the stove in yesterday's cardigan with circles under her eyes, holding a spatula.

"Gordon," she said.

"Come quietly, and nobody gets hurt."

"Gordon, I'm not skipping it. I'm failing it."

Dad took off the glasses.

"It works better when you smile," he said.

"It works better when you're Bobby."

They saw me then, in the doorway with my backpack.

Nobody said anything for a second, and then Dad put the sunglasses back on, very fast, as though that might make him look busier.

"Coat," I said. "I'm just getting my coat."

"Of course," Mom said. "It's in the hall closet. I didn't touch it."

The kitchen looked like a place where someone had been trying to keep a promise.

A fresh sheet of paper was taped to the fridge, laminated, with three columns.

The first column said "BOBBY'S JOBS." The second said "WHO NOW." The third said "NOTES."

Under "Wake Mom if the 3 a.m. happens," the second column said "Colin," and the notes said "He says he doesn't know the voice."

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