“That’s okay, I need the scissors now. And a hammer too.”

“Put that tricycle up in the garage. You want Honey Nut with water?”

“Naw,” she replied with sweet disappointment.

Dan poured himself a glass of tap water. Bleh. It had a foul sulfur smell that the O’Donnells were used to and no longer noticed. A calico cat jumped up onto the kitchen counter. It was one of several felines loosely associated with the household.

“What’s its name?”

“I just call it Asshole.”

A loud thud sent Asshole scurrying, and the house rattled to the rafters. This was followed by three seconds of silence, then bloodcurdling screams. Stick and Dan ran into the TV room.

“Connor, what the hell?” Stick hollered, his voice stern and reedy.

“It was Brian!”

Brendan was lying on the ground, crumpled in pain. His hands around his own neck.

Stick turned to the other twin. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Through tears came Brendan’s police report. “He tried to choke me and then he suplexed me.”

“Knock it off, all of you. Mom is going to be home in a minute, and she doesn’t need your shit.”

“My neck really hurts.”

“You’re fine, Brian, get up. The next person who starts wrestling, I’m throwing into a figure four.”

Connor, who was an awkward, husky thirteen, wasn’t buying it. “You’re not Dennis, Stevie, you can’t kick our asses. We’ll gang up on you.”

And then Sticky and Dan both smelled it—the grilled cheeses burning under the broiler. They ran back as brown smoke was just starting to waft out of the toaster oven.

“Fuck.” Sticky pulled the rack out with a mitt and dropped it on the stovetop.

Dan felt terrible as Stick’s mood slid from bad to worse. “Just black on the corners. You can still eat these,” he offered.

“Too burnt. And they’re all too picky. Goddamn it.”

“Sorry.”

As Sticky scraped the blackened lava flow of Kraft singles into the trash, MK came wailing back into the kitchen.

“Stevie, Stevie, I saw Daddy!”

“What?”

“He drove past the house. I saw him from the driveway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! He slowed down and waved at me.”

“He’s not supposed to be near the house,” Sticky said darkly. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t make this up, MK.” He crouched down to look her in the eye. “We can’t make things up.”

“I’m not making it up!”

“Okay.” Sticky turned to Dan, unsure what to believe. “That’s creepy if it’s true. But MK imagines a lot—”

“I’m not pretending this time!” MK started to fidget like she had to pee.

“Don’t tell your brothers.”

“Why not?”

“It will just upset them, and they’ll tell Mom.”