“What don't you understand about that? You silly thing.”

“No, wh – what do you mean?”

“Oh, Else and Daniel? They're dead, Charlie. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.”

“That doesn't – where did you even get those names?” I can't even pronounce them.

Henry looks at me, and it digs. It scoops into my skin and leaves me wobbling and in pieces. He's never come up with names like that before. His eyes grow wide and he smiles, baring his teeth like a snarling dog.

Everything stretches out. He says it with this certainty that I'm not sure if he's playing around anymore or not. I look around, and the house is so big it feels like we've been swallowed by it, and now we're mice. The walls bend out and nothing feels touchable anymore. The house is screaming and empty, and every sound is turned up all the way in my ears. All of it is like looking into a funhouse mirror, with nothing straight and right. Gramps is out on the porch smoking, and I can see and smell him, but I don't know if reaching out to him will do anything. If saying his name will make him hear me.

“This is not the kind of stress I need just after getting better.”

His voice is low, lower than how he sentenced his army men to die. My ears roar. I don't know if he means it like a taunt or not. Henry puts one army man back. Then another. One at a time. I watch him do it. I don't know what to do. I want to push them off, but something holds my hands down. I want to cry, angry and bright red. The army men slowly start melting, slouching and then turning into little green puddles.

“I like the name Professor Albright.” The words lick me like dog kisses, but gentle and dry. Henry looks at me and touches my shoulder. His hand burns on me. “Sounds a lot smarter than Dr. Green.” He smiles. It feels like a sneer.

“...okay.”

He presses his fingertip into a melted soldier, leaving his print behind. “Else deserved it, though. Dirty fucking kike.”

The general store doesn't put out their apples when Bill and I walk to school one day. The owner never forgets to put out their apples, but maybe it's because it's such a cold day. Mary McKenzie forgets The Wonderful Wizard of Oz at home, and has to stand in the corner while other people read. She nearly starts crying.

“Hey, are you okay to play today?” Henry asks. His arms hang over my shoulders, his hands almost touch my waist. He squishes his cheek into my face. “Come ooooooon,” he says. “You're not that busy.”

“I'm tired,” I say, trying to ignore everyone in class looking at us. It's an excuse, but also not. Waking up for my paper route has started getting really hard. Momma says it's because the nights are getting longer, but Bill says it's because I'm just sad about Papa being gone still. Maybe it's a bit of both. “Henry, get off of me.”

There's this other thing, but I don't know how to really explain it without it sounding weird. I'll wake up in the middle of the night, like there's a dark, hot stone in my stomach, look around the room, see the bedroom door open just enough for the hall light to lay gold on a slice of the wood floor, and have this Superman-like sense that something's wrong. But nothing's wrong. Walls meets in corners, the floor and ceiling are where they should be, and the world outside is still there. The windows are closed and Bill sleeps in the bed across from me. But I can't move no matter how much I want to. I can't go back to sleep, and when I do, I'm late.

“I'll do your homework for you,” he says, pushing his face more into mine.

“Seriously, Henry. Get off me,” I say, turning away from him. “Ms. Lewis will be here, soon.”

That makes him push his head more into my head. “You've been busy the past four days. I miss you.”

Henry's jaw moves against my face. It's bony and cold and I feel like I'm being ground up a little. I try to shrug him off, but he holds onto me tight like a baby afraid to get lost in Mill Creek.

“You'll do Charlie's homework?” asks Arthur. He sits forward in his desk chair, and the look on his face screams that he's uncomfortable. He's trying not to look at either of us. “I wouldn't trust you to finish my homework. You ask Charlie for help all the time.”

“It just makes sense to me,” I say. It doesn't. I just pay attention in class.

“Well, now it all makes sense,” Henry says, sticking out his tongue. “Come ooooooon, Charlie.” He rocks me from one side to the other. “Say you're free to play today.”