“I’m not six, I don’t act out stories.”

He grins like I’m not being mean. “You read it, then?”

“Yeah, I read it.”

“What did you think?”

I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

“Which story did you like best?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon. You must have a favorite.”

I do, but I’m not telling him. He looks way too pleased I even said they were okay. And if I keep talking to him, he might think we’re having a conversation.

I brush past him to step through the gate.

“You must have an opinion. Everyone has an opinion.” Everyone has an opinion—I can hear you mimicking him in my head, trying to get me to laugh at him, to make him small.

I look at his face. His eyes remind me of Splinter. He smiles, waiting.

I turn my back and check the letter box. “They’re a bit God-y.”

He takes a big breath; I can feel the excitement behind me. He wants to talk about it. I hope he’s not one of those Christians you used to slam the door on. Is that why he gave me the book? The thought weighs in my chest. I talk over the top of him. “It made me uncomfortable. Like he wasn’t telling me the story to tell me a story. Like he was trying to make me see his way.”

Oscar stops talking. I flick a glance at him. He’s frowning. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“I like them apart from that, though.” I don’t know why I want the frown to go. Maybe it’s the Splinter eyes. I mentally shake myself. He’s not Splinter. He’s just a kid who’s bothering me and standing in my front yard too close to the door.

“Right. Bye, then.” I turn and walk away.

“So you’ve finished it?”

“Yep.” I don’t turn around.

“Can I have it back, then?”

That stops me. “Oh. Okay. I’ll drop it in your letter box.” I slip the key in the lock.

“I’m here, just give it to me now.”

My fingers slip on the key. I should have just dropped it in his letter box this morning. Why didn’t I just get rid of it? I can feel him standing behind me, sense him bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Fine. I’ll get it.” I step through the door, nearly tripping over the eggs. I pick them up and give the house a quick sniff. I turn to tell him to wait but he’s followed me in. “What are you doing?”

“What?”

How do I answer that? Is this normal? Is this what people do? Do normal kids wander into other people’s houses after school? Too late now anyway, he’s already sitting on the couch.