“Dunc said. “Don’t say that.” “Don’t say what?” “Don’t say, ‘It’s like this.’ ” Amos was sitting on their front porch. It was a warm summer afternoon and they were wearing shorts, and he was wondering if he should pick the scab off his knee. He’d gotten it two weeks before trying to get to the phone. He’d been in the bathroom and the phone rang, and he was sure it was Melissa and went for it and would have made it except that his mother had the oven door open and he took a shortcut through the k...itchen. He stepped in a cake, broke the oven door off, and buried his head in the cat box in the corner of the kitchen and scraped his knees on the oven door going down. “It’s never like ‘this’ when you say ‘it’s like this.’ It’s always like something else.” “About the business with the parrot. I’ve been thinking.” “You mean the one at the pet store, or Mrs. Burdgett’s parakeets?” “The one at the store. I don’t want to think about Mrs.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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