Read The End of the World for Free Online Page B

and ignored at school this week and last, she doesn’t need any from me. I don’t know what’s happened to make her the target of so many vile comments. All I know is it won’t take much for me to punch the next person who makes one.
    “If I knew the answer to that question,” Shaye says, “all my problems would be solved.” She picks up a plastic cup and pours a stream of soapy water over Pete’s head, then scoops up another and dumps it over Maria’s. Both gasp from the surprise even though it’s the third time she’s doused them. “He gets fixated on things. Before peanut butter it was applesauce. Before that, yogurt. Before that…”
    “Animal crackers?” No idea why I blurt that out, but it seems to be the next logical choice.
    She smiles into the water. “Raisins.”
    “Raisins? Who eats raisins?”
    She reaches for the drain plug and both kids stand up, rivulets of water streaming from their wet skin. I can’t decide whether to avert my eyes or pretend the site of their naked bodies doesn’t make me uncomfortable, but the only other place to look is at the toilet or at Shaye’s face, so I aim for Maria’s nose and keep my eyes trained on it. For some reason, her nose seems to be the safest choice.
    “A kid with major OCD issues.” She whispers the last two words, and if Pete hears them he gives no indication. Then again, the kid is five. I didn’t even know what tornados were when I was five. The likelihood of him understanding that particular medical term is pretty small.
    “Has he been diagnosed?”
    It surprises me when she laughs. It doesn’t surprise me that it’s laced with cynicism. “We don’t do doctors around here unless absolutely necessary. But it’s pretty obvious his issues involve a lot more than peanut butter sandwiches.” She wraps first Pete and then Maria in a towel, taking a minute to rub their heads to remove any excess water. My mother used to do that to me. I remember hating it because it hurt, yet right now I want to go back and let her squeeze my hair again just to recall what it felt like.
    “Can’t wait to see what those issues are,” I mutter under my breath, standing up from my spot and taking a step back to give her room. This bathroom is surprisingly large considering the size of the bedrooms, although part of me thinks we’ve been given the smallest in the house and the better, more impressive rooms have been saved for company or something. It seems weird to think of guests coming to stay here, though, so maybe they’ve been reserved for another reason entirely. Like a home gym. Or a torture chamber.
    I nearly laugh at my little internal joke and open my mouth to share it with Shaye, but quickly close it when it hits me that she might not find it funny.
    It takes a minute for it to register that I miss Todd. I miss Shelly. I miss that every time I would tell a joke or recall a story from school they would laugh. I miss their tiny bathroom and my old walk-in closet connected to the bedroom that belonged only to me. I miss the way he hugged her and the way she hugged me, even if it wasn’t that often. When you come from a place of no affection at all, even the occasional touch makes you appreciate the contact and anticipate the next one.
    But more than anything, I miss the feeling of thinking I belonged.
    Now, I belong nowhere. Except for Shaye, everyone in this house is a stranger, even if I’ve already seen two of them naked. And as for Shaye, she keeps acting like she’s waiting for me to ditch her—at home, at school, in the lunchroom—so I’m not even sure I know her all that well either.
    I step over a puddle of bath water and open the door just in time to nearly collide with Mr. Bowden. Again, he’s shirtless. Again, a feeling I can’t name but don’t like travels like a shiver through me. He looks past me and into the room.
    “Shaye, come downstairs when you’re done with the kids, okay? I need to talk to you about something.” I