“Pretty, too,” Mum added, as she took carrots and broccoli from the fridge.

“Mum!” I groaned. I felt myself blush.

Mum grinned and nodded at the table.

“Plates, Cal …”

*

When everything was ready, Dad strolled in from the garden. He’d converted the shed into a studio for his work. Today he was in a lab coat covered in paint, and his blond hair was all crazy scientist. Sticky tape held his glasses together.

“Hey Cal!” he said. “You didn’t say you were back.”

“You were in the shed,” I pointed out.

“The studio, Cal,” he said. “I’ve been painting.”

“You painted yourself, by the look of you,” Mum joked.

Dad stuck out his tongue and Mum laughed.

“Let’s eat,” she said.

As I wolfed down the pie, my parents talked about boring adult stuff. And then Mum cleared her throat.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

Mum had crazy ideas all the time. My yoga classes were one. Last year, we became vegans for a while, after Mum read a book called The Truth About Milk. I pushed a piece of broccoli around my plate, as I waited for her latest brainwave.

“I want to volunteer at a food bank,” she said.

I frowned. “What’s a food bank?” I asked.

“It’s a charity place that gives free food to people in need,” she said. “I think we should all volunteer. I was thinking three times a week. We could even help on Christmas Day.”

“You can’t make Cal help,” Dad said. “He has to decide for himself.”

I shrugged.

“I don’t mind helping,” I said. “But not on Christmas Day.”

“OK.” Mum smiled at me. “I’ll find out when they need us.”

Dad groaned again and Mum gave him a stern look.

“We need to rebalance our spirits,” she said. “As a family.”

Dad went off to read a book, Mum went upstairs to meditate, and I was alone. It was my turn to clear up and wash the dishes. Then I went to my room to do my homework.

*

Later, Dad came to ask if I was OK.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just …”

“Just what, kid?”

“Like, are we evil because we have enough money when other people don’t?” I asked.

“No!” Dad said. “Of course not. Life isn’t easy, Cal, and sometimes bad things happen that bring people down.”

“But what if every rich person gave money to poor people?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that help?”

“Yes,” Dad said. “But not everyone thinks like we do.” He sat down next to me. I could tell he’d just smoked his one night-time roll-up.

“You know what, Calloway Gill-Smith?” he said with his stinky cigarette breath.

“What?”

“I’m happy that we think alike, but we don’t have to. I love you anyway.” He kissed me on my head and left.

3

Tales of the Demon

A few days later, Anu tripped me up. As I fell, I wondered what would rebalance her spirit.

“You OK, Cal?” Miss Spargo asked, as I picked myself up and sat down.