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ILIE to Mom. Tell her Art peed on me. She’s surprised —he’s never been a wetter. She wants to change him. I tell her it’s all right, I’ll take care of it. I hurry to my bedroom and change my pants. I’m almost out the door before I remember that Art should be changed too, so I quickly find clean clothes for him.
I consider telling Mom about Mrs. Egin’s behavior. Recall her threat — “slit your throat from your left ear to your right.” Don’t say a word.
The day passes uncomfortably. I can’t forget what Mrs. Egin said, her wicked expression, stroking the pulsing patch of light. “You will see me die.”
I should tell someone. It doesn’t matter that she threatened me. She won’t be able to sneak into my room if I tell someone and they lock her up like the mad old witch she is.
But I wet my pants. If I tell about the rest, I’ll have to tell about that too. And I don’t want people knowing. So I say nothing. I pretend it didn’t happen, that it doesn’t matter. And all day long I feel as if a thousand eels of terror are wriggling around inside me.
Dad’s talking with Mom about a craft fair when I come home. She’s listening quietly, sitting by the piano. (It was in the house when we moved in — none of us can play). She’s frowning.
“This is one of the biggest fairs in the country,” Dad says. “It’s held every year, and a few of the Paskinston artists always go, representing the village. They sell a lot of work at it, and rack up loads of orders. It’s a real honor to be asked. It would be rude to refuse.”
“But can’t one of us go and one stay here?” Mom asks.
“Yes, but couples normally go together. It’s not just about selling. There are hundreds of artists and interesting people there. It’s a chance to meet, mingle, get to know other people. It’ll be fun.”
I hand Art to Mom and sit close to her, following the conversation. I learn a bit more about the fair, where it’s held, who’s going, how long they’ll be gone for. Dad’s proud to have been invited and eager to go, but Mom’s worried about Art and me. She doesn’t want to leave us alone. “Can’t we take them along?” she asks.
“It’s not done,” Dad says patiently. “Nobody else brings their kids.”
Mom’s frown deepens. We haven’t been apart since we left the city, not for a single night. But if they go to the fair, they’ll be gone for at least a week.
“They won’t be by themselves,” Dad says. “We’ll leave them with one of the neighbors.”
“I know, but . . .”
“Kernel doesn’t mind. Do you, Kernel?” He smiles broadly at me, expecting my support. If this was yesterday, I’d have given it instantly. But Mrs. Egin’s threat is fresh in my thoughts. I don’t want to be left alone. So I just shrug in answer. “You OK, big guy?” Dad asks, surprised.
“Yeah.”
“If you don’t want us to go, just say. It’s not that important.”
“No. I mean, I don’t mind. Not really. It’s just . . .” I can’t explain without telling them the truth. So again I shrug.
“What about Art?” Mom says, kissing his head, looking up at Dad.
“Art will be fine too,” Dad says, and he sounds a little impatient now.
“I’m not sure, Caspian.”
“Melena . . .” Dad sighs. “Look, if it’s going to be a big deal, we won’t go. But this is our home now. We’re safe here. I don’t think we’ve anything to fear in this place. Do you?”
“No,” Mom says quietly.
“So . . . ?”
Mom makes a face. “I just don’t like being apart from my darling babies!” she exclaims. We all laugh at that, and everything’s fine again.
Mom bounces Art up and down on her knee. Dad smiles and hugs her. I feel happy and safe. I ask what’s for dinner, and forget about the witch and all the bad thoughts of the day.
The morning of their departure. Dad gets the car ready while Mom takes Art and me over to Sally’s house. Sally is one of the villagers who lives alone. A bit older than Mom. Fat. A great singer. She has two children of her own, but they’ve grown up and left.
“We’re going to have a great time,” Sally says as we set our bags down in the room where Art and I are staying.
“I wish there was a phone, so we could call and check that everything is all right,” Mom grumbles. There aren’t many phones in the village, and Sally doesn’t own one.
“Relax!” Sally laughs. “These boys can get along fine without you for a few days. Can’t you, Kernel?”
