Page 34 of Dread

I got a glass of water and stayed in the kitchen while Katy finished dinner. Ellie alternated between subtraction and commentary, apparently incapable of doing one without the other.

We ate pasta at the table. Ellie told us about her poster, then about a boy who’d informed her that her rocks didn’t qualify as a collection because she didn’t have a display case.

“He’s wrong,” I said.

Ellie pointed her fork at me. “That’s what I said.”

“What makes something a collection?” Katy asked.

“Having more than one of it.”

“Reasonable definition.”

“And knowing their names,” Ellie added. “Which I do.”

From there, the conversation somehow moved to whether dogs understood clocks, whether cats cared what time it was, and finally whether squirrels had calendars. Ellie decided they probably measured the year by acorn season.

I had no evidence to dispute her.

By then, her plate was empty.

“Okay,” Katy said. “Time to get ready for bed.”

Ellie’s face fell. “Already?”

“Bath, teeth, pajamas, then bed.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Three.”

“Four?”

Katy considered her. “Three and a half. Final offer.”

Ellie nodded as if serious negotiations had concluded and carried her plate to the sink. She’d been here long enough to know where everything went, long enough that she no longer asked before opening a cabinet or getting herself a drink.

I watched her disappear down the hall after Katy.

Three weeks ago, Ellie had been a kid I’d found stranded beside a highway with her mother.

Now there was a cup with her name on it in my cabinet.

I dealt with the dishes while Katy supervised bath time. The sound of running water echoed down the hall, followed by Ellie protesting that shampooing her hair twice in one week was excessive. Katy disagreed. Ellie appealed the ruling. Katy remained unmoved.

Eventually, Ellie reappeared in dinosaur pajamas long enough to tell me good night.

“Night, Doc.”

“Brush your teeth.”

“Mom already made me.”

“Then I have no further instructions.”

She grinned and headed back down the hall.

Katy returned a while later and poured coffee for both of us. She handed me a mug and tipped her head toward the back porch. We took our coffee outside and sat on the steps. Katy settled beside me, close enough that her shoulder rested against mine.