“Well maybe I could stay, for just a few days,” he said, wiping the crumbs from his face with the back of his hand.

“Sure,” said Kate. “Let’s say a few days.” There was a moment of understanding between them – he didn’t know why, but it was also a tactical move for Kate. They weren’t going to rat each other out. They were in this together.

Shawn slept under the Parker roof, he ate Parker food, he watched Parker television. He enrolled in school and got rides there in the Parker car. He spent his weekends in the Parker backyard playing Star Wars with the Parker twins. It was the best deal on the planet. He pretended to be a Parker, and in return, he got a free ride. And Kate, what did she get? Shawn is still not sure if he knows. He thinks he may have an idea – some unspoken struggle that seemed to go down between Kate and Walter when he was home, sideways glances, sentences left unfinished, clipped tones at the dinner table – but they never talked about it. If this were a movie, she would have told him last week, before the falls. She would have released her secret to him in some final, poignant speech instead of asking him whether Petey still wore a size four shoe.

Whatever it was, it let them live in a peaceful balance, each of them getting what they thought they needed. Shawn had set up a nice little drug-dealing business at his new high school, and was gradually inventorying things he was going to steal from Victor Street when he finally took off. He planned to stay a month, tops, and then head out West, hook up with some buddies in Vancouver who had a squat somewhere, knew all the best panhandling spots. Every day he could hear the train running by the house, and every day he told himself, “Tomorrow, tomorrow.” A month turned into three, and then six. Before he knew it, he had been playing Parker for an entire year. He had clean clothes and a haircut done by a real barber. He owned his own stick of deodorant. When he was hungry, he could just open the fridge and eat. There was always a kid around who wanted to play with him, or cuddle up on the couch. He started to sleep with both eyes closed.

Still, leaving was always at the forefront of his mind. Leaving, and planning his next score. His next move. Maybe he was just expecting it to all fall apart, but he couldn’t stand the thought of staying still, of letting himself get too comfortable. That was what killed you in the end. Not the things you did, but the things you didn’t do.