“Peter, are you awake?” CJ whispered from outside the door.
Peter exhaled. He crawled back into bed with his heart still racing, leaving the bat in the closet. The door creaked open and CJ appeared at the foot of his bed above the crumpled mountain of sheets.
“Go back to bed, CJ.” Peter turned on his side. The smoldering large numbers of his digital clock read 11:53 p.m.
“Wake up, please, Peter. There is someone in front of the house, a man. I heard him. He’s right outside.”
CJ’s eyes were egg shaped, and she bit at her bottom lip. She moved around to the head of bed. “I’m serious,” she said, and Peter could smell her breath, an extraordinarily strong, sweet scent.
“Were you eating marshmallows?” Peter relaxed.
She looked away sheepishly.
Then it made complete sense to Peter: why the hallway light wasn’t on, how she could hear someone in front of the house when her room faced the golf course in back. She was making a late-night visit to the kitchen’s snack stash. Marshmallows were CJ’s weakness. Peter was wondering how long she had been doing this when he too heard a low mumbling from outside.
CJ whipped her pointer finger to the window, and leaned her face into Peter’s. “He’s coming this way.”
Peter rolled to the floor and crawled over to the air conditioner. He carefully lifted the shade enough to dip his head under, and CJ did the same, their noses inches from the mesh screen. The one streetlight lit the block in a rusty tint. No signs of movement except for Mr. Terry’s miniature windmill on his side lawn, the sails turning over lazily in the still night.
“I don’t see anything,” Peter said.
“There was someone there, I swear.” CJ’s eyes darted from side to side in disbelief.
Peter sighed, “I’m going back to bed,” but as he started to back away he heard the low, incoherent mumbling again, like a witch reciting a spell in front of a cauldron.
CJ pointed to the window and mouthed, “I told you.”
Their pajamas hugged the contours of the air conditioner. They allowed only the features above their noses to rise up the windowsill.
“Where is it coming from?” CJ said, softly.
A garbage can rattled down the street—obviously the voice did nothing to stop the raccoons’ pillage.
“I’m getting Mom,” CJ said, and she turned, but Peter grabbed her and nodded with his head. A shadowy figure appeared from beyond the hemlock tree. The man walked with the muscled tautness of a stalking tiger, the hair bouncing gently off his shoulders.
“It’s Josh.”
“Josh?” CJ asked.
Peter brought his finger up to his mouth. In this light, Josh reminded him of an animal in the wild. Peter felt like a photographer for National Geographic. Ever since the race, Peter held a fascination with his neighbor—the way Josh decided to do something and did it without caring what anyone else would think or how much he stood out. Peter would never have done that in a million years. This presented a perfect opportunity to study him. Even the way he walked was unusual, and Peter wished he could walk the same way. Josh’s gait possessed a menacing grace; one that would make you feel protected if you walked by his side through a crowd of strangers, but more than uncomfortable if you crossed his path on an empty street.
CJ said, “Who’s he talking to? He’s by himself.”
Josh was pacing slowly in the middle of the street, his head bent to the sky. He was dressed only in jeans.
“He needs shoes for his birthday,” CJ whispered.
Getting a little bolder, they pressed their faces against the screen to hear his words. He spoke in streams.
“He makes me to lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; he leads me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake.”
“Who does that to Josh?” CJ asked, her words muffled and constricted by the screen.
“Shhhh.”
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
Peter was pretty sure Josh was quoting the Bible, but he made a mental note to ask Uncle Herb in the morning. Uncle Herb would definitely know.
Just as Peter started to relax, Josh stopped chanting and turned his head quickly in the direction of their window. Noticing this, Peter and CJ collapsed to the ground, their heads colliding on the way down. They rolled around the carpeted floor, both cupping their impacted skulls, their mouths drawn in hushed cries.
There they remained in silence until the pain subsided. After minutes of silence and hearing nothing but the crickets, Peter desperately wanted to know if Josh was still standing in the middle of the street or if he was closer now, maybe at the window screen looking in. Peter couldn’t get himself to look up from the rug. He nodded to CJ and pointed to the window. She stared at him as if he was crazy and shook her head no. She then pointed at Peter and thumbed the window. Peter shook his head diagonally, neither a confirming yes or no. It occurred to him that remaining on the carpet until morning sounded like the best alternative.
Day 61
Peter woke to CJ’s big toe greeting him and the heel of her left foot resting on his cheek. They had slept the entire night on Peter’s carpet. The early light of day peeked through the shades. Peter pushed CJ’s foot away, and CJ groaned in protest before turning on her side.
Peter sat at his desk as he did at the start of every morning and removed the colored pencils from the top drawer. On his desk calendar, he drew an orange circle and blue circle on yesterday’s date: another day without a drop of rain or his father being home. He counted back twenty days with his finger; his father had been away on business for thirteen of them.
The mean-spirited buzz of his mother’s alarm clock intruded on the quiet morning. Peter heard his mother’s slaps at the clock followed by the shuffling of her slippers against the floor. Seconds later, Abby appeared in front of Peter’s door.
“Morning. What happened here? Was she having nightmares?” Abby said, nodding in the direction of CJ on the floor.
Peter shrugged. He didn’t know how to label last night. He had fought the urge to look behind his shades even after he woke; if Josh was still there, that would really spook him.
Abby yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I need some coffee, and then I need you to help me toilet Uncle Herb.”
“Is Dad coming home today?”
“Tomorrow, I think,” she said, and disappeared down the hallway.
Peter followed and joined his mother at the kitchen table, armed with a box of Cheerios and a half-gallon of milk. He ate in silence as she sipped from a mug of coffee and stared into space.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m getting pretty sick of sunshine,” she said.
“Are you staying home with us today?”
“Peter, I just started working. I don’t think it would be wise to take a day off so soon.”
Peter didn’t answer. This sounded like more than a part-time job.
She added, “You guys are doing okay with Uncle Herb, right?”
Peter smiled and nodded. He stood and walked to the counter, dumping his half-eaten bowl of cereal in the