Gone

CHAPTER 55

In the morning, Mary Catherine left Trent in charge of pouring the pancakes and went down into the cellar to find another apron. Rummaging through a packing box, she glanced up as she heard soft footsteps coming down from one of the upstairs bedrooms.

“Hey, Chrissy,” she heard Trent say.

Oh, boy, let the games begin, Mary Catherine thought, moving some Christmas ornaments over to get at another U-Haul box. Trent was at the age when his goal in life, the very purpose of his existence, in fact, seemed to be teasing the girls as much as he possibly could. And Chrissy, being the youngest, was his favorite target.

“Good morning, little sister,” Trent continued sweetly. “So nice to see you this happy day. Sleep well?”

“What are you doing?” Chrissy said skeptically. “You’re not supposed to have the oven on. Where’s Mary Catherine?”

“Who knows?” Trent lied. “I’m doing an experiment, Chrissy. See how this batter is running off the spatula and splattering onto the pan? This is exactly like when somebody gets shot and all the blood goes flying all over the place. Imagine I was just shot, OK, and I’m bleeding to death, and this pan here is covered in my blood. Isn’t it awesome?”

Mary Catherine shook her head, smiling. What is it with boys? she thought. How do they even come up with this stuff?

“Stop it, Trent!” Chrissy said. “Blood doesn’t even do that. You’re lying.”

“No, it’s true,” Trent said sagely. “Blood splatters like crazy. Way worse than this, especially if a bullet nicks an artery. I saw it on TV.”

Note to self, Mary Catherine thought. Change the TV’s parental channel locks as soon as possible.

“You know what else?” Trent continued. “I bet Dad is right now looking at blood splatter on a wall next to a dead body. I mean, that’s what Dad does, right? He’s a cop. So whenever they find a dead guy with bullet holes in him or a knife sticking out of his neck, they call Dad in to the scene. Isn’t he lucky? Isn’t that so cool?”

Mary Catherine winced, waiting for Chrissy to start screaming or crying, but was surprised when nothing came out.

“Actually,” Chrissy said calmly, “it’s not cool. It’s just really gross, like you.”

Yes! Mary Catherine thought. Chrissy was learning to defend herself. One good thing about being a member of a family this big was developing the ability to use the occasional sharp elbow. Excellent job, young lass, Mary Catherine thought. Offense was always the best defense.

“Mary Catherine!” Trent yelled down the cellar stairs a second later. “Chrissy called me stupid!”

“Stupid?” Mary Catherine said, winking at Chrissy as she made it back into the kitchen. “I believe the term I heard your sister use, young man, was gross.”