Fallout

“Ever seen a breast?” he asked. “I mean, for real?”

I felt my face get hot and tugged at some hairs behind my right ear.

He gave me an astonished look. “What about your mom’s?”

“She keeps them hidden.”

“What about by accident? Like walking into her bedroom when she’s getting dressed?”

“We’re supposed to knock.”

“Haven’t you ever forgotten?”

“No.”

Ronnie smirked. “You’re allowed to forget once in a while.”

“You mean… on purpose?” I asked, astonished.

He nodded enthusiastically. It was a shocking suggestion. Sneak into your own mother’s bedroom to look at her breasts? Only someone as sick as Ronnie would think of something like that.

“You’ve… done that?” I asked.

“Of course. Every kid has.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone doing it.”

Ronnie harrumphed. “Just like you’ve never heard of snapping bras. Come on, you think Freak O’ Nature or Johnny is going to tell the whole world he snuck into his mom’s bedroom so he could look at her breasts?”

“Then how do you know?” I asked.

“I told you. Every kid does it. The best time is in the morning when she’s getting dressed. Or on Saturday nights before she goes out. Moms always take baths and then try on lots of different clothes before they go out, so your chances are pretty good then.”

I didn’t know what to say. Sneaking looks at your mother’s breasts had to be wrong.

“Scott, we could all be dead tomorrow,” Ronnie said solemnly. “You want to die without ever seeing a breast?”

31

Mom can sit up if someone helps her. She’ll drink and eat if you put water or food to her lips. Janet helps Dad take care of her. Sometimes Dad kneels in front of Mom and talks, but she just sits and stares blankly.

“Would you try?” Dad asks me.

I don’t answer because I’m afraid. I’m not even sure what I’m afraid of.

“Come on, Scott,” Dad says. “And you, too, Edward.”

Sparky bites his lip and shakes his head. He’s also scared.

“It’s important,” Dad says. “Maybe she’ll recognize you.”

Sparky takes my hand. He’s never done that before. We face Mom.

“Say something,” Dad says.

“Hi, Mom,” Sparky says.

She doesn’t react.

“Mom?” I say.

No response.

Sparky starts to sniff, and Dad puts his arms around him. I feel like crying, too. Now I know what I was afraid of — that she wouldn’t know us, either.

Ronnie and I sit together on the bunk. Our fight is still on my mind, but most of my anger has passed. He’s my best friend. Right now, he’s my only friend. Maybe the only friend I’ll have for the rest of my life. Before the fight, we’d never hit each other, but we’d disagreed and gotten mad plenty of times. Isn’t a fistfight just more of the same?

He presses his fingertips together under his nose like a squirrel eating a nut and sniffs. Then he leans close and whispers in my ear, “Feels like jail.”

He’s right, with all of us crammed into this tiny room with bare gray concrete walls. I whisper back, “But they get more to eat.”

Ronnie chuckles. The others frown when they see us whispering. Up till now, everyone’s said what they’re thinking out loud. And even though Ronnie and I are just talking kid stuff, I have a feeling we shouldn’t look like we’re sharing secrets.

I hate being hungry. I hate what’s happened to my mother. I hate being down here in this smelly, chilly, damp, windowless room, with nothing to do. I hate that everyone has to go to the bathroom in front of everyone else and nobody has any privacy. I hate feeling sad about my friends and everyone else who was up there. I hate that this happened, and I hate whoever made it happen.

Dad says we should exercise. “We need to keep our strength up for what comes next.”

“And just what do you think comes next?” asks Mrs. Shaw.

“Rebuilding.”

Ronnie’s mother rolls her eyes. “You really think life’s going back to the way it used to be?”

“There won’t be that much destruction outside the blast zone,” Dad replies. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

Mrs. Shaw slowly shakes her head. “What are you going to do for food, Richard? Go to the store? There isn’t going to be any food. The animals are dead. The farmers who raised them are dead. There’ll be no electricity, no gasoline. If we don’t starve, we’ll freeze to death. Don’t you understand? The world… has been destroyed.”

“Steph, the kids,” Mr. Shaw cautions.

“What difference does it make? They’re going to find out soon enough,” Mrs. Shaw says scornfully.

Maybe we’re supposed to understand that the grown-ups are on edge, but it’s still upsetting when they argue. What’s even more upsetting is suspecting that Ronnie’s mom is right. I tug behind my ear and glance at Sparky, who watches and listens.