Page 26 of Dead Boys Club

The front door opens into a foyer. Like, an actual foyer, like Zach has seen in movies. There’s a small pile of shoes by the door—a pair of black Doc Martens and checkered vans. Shoes that clearly belong to the teenagers of the house. It makes everything feel a little less sterile and pristine. Parker’s boots are unlaced, so he kicks them off. His socks are matching this time. Zach follows his lead, toeing his sneakers off of his feet.

“Kids?” A soft, cautious voice calls from somewhere deep in the house.

“Who else would it be?” Parker mutters under his breath, while Paige calls, “Hi, Mom.”

Zach is already tense as he follows Parker and the others into the dining room, where Rebecca Reid is standing at the table. It’s already set with enough places for everyone. The Reids have an actual, separate dining room dedicated entirely to eating. Zach is used to eating dinner at the cramped table in his kitchen or on the couch in front of the TV.

Mrs. Reid is a small, slight woman with dark brown hair and a nervous smile. She has the same olive-tan skin as her children, like she’s maybe Italian or Mediterranean. She’s older than Zach pictured her, maybe in her mid-fifties—or maybe his own mom had him so young that he’s not really sure what age moms are actually supposed to be. The graying whispers of hair at her temples look more like an intentional styling choice than a nod to natural aging. The twins look exactly like her: same nose, same skin, same round, brown eyes.

The only difference is Parker’s unique, light-colored eye.

“Wow,” Mrs. Reid sighs, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Hi. It’s so nice to meet all of you.”

“Mom, this is Zach, Bea, and Isaac,” Paige says, pointing to each of them in turn. “Parker’s friends—” She pauses, looking between all of them again, then offering up: “Or, you know, our friends.”

Parker hunches his shoulders.

Zach recognizes Mrs. Reid’s expression. He’s seen it on his own mom’s face. It’s the look of a mother who had all but given up on fixing her broken son and then the skies opened up and offered her a miracle. But in Zach and Parker’s case, the miracle was just a carnival. He imagines she must be over the moon that Parker has brought home friends.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Mrs. Reid says. “I made vegan alfredo and roasted brussels sprouts. I wasn’t sure if everyone here ate meat or not.”

“That sounds so lovely, thank you, Mrs. Reid,” Bea says kindly. Zach hates brussels sprouts.

“Please, call me Rebecca,” Mrs. Reid says with a smile. “Parker, why don’t you give your friends a tour of the house? Show them your room,” she adds, and Parker pulls a face, glancing between the three of them and his mother.

“What for?” Parker asks.

“Oh my god, just come on,” Paige says, pushing Parker around and gesturing for Zach, Bea, and Isaac to follow her.

The Reids’ house is enormous. It looked big from the outside, but Zach begins to lose count of the rooms they pass as Parker and Paige take them on their awkward house tour. What do rich people even do with all of these rooms? They pass a few on the ground floor that seem to exist solely to hold ornate furniture. The living room looks a little more modern and lived-in, but it’s still so pristine that Zach is afraid to even step foot on the plush, white carpet.

Now that Zach is seeing Parker’s house, he’s retroactively embarrassed that Parker has seen his own. Zach’s house has papers all over the counters: junk mail and credit card offers, past-due bills. There are always clothes in the laundry room that need folding, and he and his mom often leave things where they finish using them—books on the arm of the couch, cups on the coffee table. Parker lives in a house that feels almost untouched.

Parker and Paige show them around the ground floor with very little enthusiasm, then climb a set of stairs just off the kitchen—the second set of stairs, Zach notes, since there’s another staircase in the foyer—and show them their bedrooms.

Paige is a little awkward about it. Zach, Isaac, and Parker hover outside the door while Bea steps in to take a look around her room. It feels like a girl’s space, but also Paige’s space. Zach has spent many a long night thinking about what it might look like inside Paige Reid’s bedroom.

From his position at the door, it looks like a teenager’s room. The white walls are covered with posters of bands that Zach has never heard of and fliers from local shows that have been painstakingly taped together. Zach hadn’t thought of Paige as the type of girl who likes to go to concerts. On the wall opposite to the open doorway, there’s a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf with books that have been lovingly arranged by color, giving off a rainbow effect. Her bedspread is white, with blue and yellow flowers. There are textbooks all over the floor, clothes spilling from a tipped-over hamper. On the strip of wall beside her window are framed editions of the student paper. Articles she’s worked on, maybe? Zach wants to ask, but he’s too afraid to step into her room and find out.

When they move down the hall to Parker’s room, Zach notes that his doorknob has been removed. His stomach swoops a little, thinking of all the reasons why that might be.

Parker opens his door with one firm kick and says, “Ta-da,” in a caustic tone. Isaac pokes his head in eagerly. The first thing Zach sees is Parker’s blue bedspread. The second thing he sees is a fat, squat, gray cat stretched out on Parker’s pillows. It’s a Persian cat, its face pinched around the nose.

“That’s Cordelia,” Paige supplies. Zach already knows that. It’s Parker’s mom’s cat, the one that likes Parker best, the one that Parker thinks about when he lists reasons not to kill himself. “She only likes Parker,” Paige adds, her voice a perfect soundbite of sibling jealousy.

“Yeah,” Parker says, proudly.

Parker’s room couldn’t be any different from Paige’s. Grungy the way a teenage boy’s room is bound to be. Where Paige has her decorations hung up with care and intention, every available space on the wall over Parker’s bed is plastered with overlapping posters of more bands that Zach’s never heard of. He wonders, maybe, before things got bad, if Parker and Paige ever bonded over music or going to shows together.

There are piles of books and CDs stacked around every available flat surface. Piles of clothes on the floor. An identical pair of boots halfway under the bed. It smells a little like cigarettes.

They end the tour back downstairs, and by the time Zach is shuffled back through the dining room, dinner is ready. It actually smells pretty good. Except for the brussels sprouts.

They’re all seated around the long dining room table when the sound of the front door opening and closing echoes from the foyer. Parker visibly straightens up in his seat. He slides his elbows off the table and drops his gaze down to his plate. It’s strange to watch. A few moments later, Mr. Reid enters the dining room. He’s dressed nicely and he loosens his tie as observes everyone at the table. Parker’s dad is older than Zach had imagined too. He’s almost entirely gray. Neither of the twins look like they take after him. His skin is paler and his eyes are lighter.

All of the Reids are on one side of the table, while Zach, Bea, and Isaac are lined up on the other. There’s one seat left, at the head of the table. Zach is sitting across from Parker, whose face grows tense at his father’s arrival. Beside him, Paige looks alert and cautious.

“Welcome, welcome!” Mr. Reid says, leaning down to press a kiss to Mrs. Reid’s cheek before taking the empty seat at the head of the table. “You must be Parker’s friends.”