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the house,” he said slowly. “Was it true?”
    I shrugged. I wanted to make some joke and laugh it off but it was like the house might be listening. Overhead the pine branches scraping against each other made whispery sounds.
    â€œâ€™Cause I’m not sure whether I should tell you this,” said Steve. He glanced away, like he was afraid to look me in the eye.
    â€œTell me,” I demanded, grabbing Steve’s arm.
    â€œOK, OK,” said Steve. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
    I nodded impatiently. “I promise.”
    Steve leaned close to me and squinted up at the house. He lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “This happened a few years ago when I was just a little kid and didn’t know what to do about anything.”
    I nodded. “Go on.”
    â€œI wandered over here to check the old place out, right? I was right by that tree with the flowers by the side of the house—”
    â€œIt’s a cherry tree,” I said.
    â€œWhatever,” said Steve, glaring at me. “I just happened to look up.” He paused and bit his lip as if remembering something he hoped to forget.
    â€œCome on,” I said. “Tell me.”
    Steve sighed deeply. “I looked up and saw this old lady in the kitchen tying something up. It looked funny—kind of wiggly—so I crawled closer until I was right under the window. Then I stood and looked in.” Steve’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to believe what I saw.”
    I groaned. “Probably not.”
    â€œYou know, it’s not easy for me to tell you about this,” said Steve, acting as if his feelings were hurt.
    â€œAll right. I won’t say another word,” I promised.
    â€œThere was a little kid in there,” whispered Steve. “She’d squeezed him into a roasting pan and while I was watching she stuck him in the oven and cooked him just like you cook a turkey!”
    Suddenly Steve pushed me and burst out laughing. “You believed me!” Steve hooted.
    â€œNo way, you liar.”
    â€œYou should have seen your face.” He made a bug-eyed face with his mouth hanging open, drool spilling out the side.
    I winced, but Steve was laughing too hard to keep it up for long.
    â€œ Jayyy-sonnnnn !”
    That was Mom, calling me for lunch.
    â€œSee you later, you liar,” I said.
    Steve stopped me. He looked serious again, as if he was sorry for making stuff up. I should have known better.
    â€œBetter take a close look at your lunch, Jason,” he teased. “Better check that your mom’s not feeding you roasted little kid!”

13
    Sally was eating peanut butter and jelly. Mom was at the stove, frying something that smelled like hamburger. “Wash your hands,” she said automatically.
    â€œBut, Mom—” I thought she should cut me a little slack after my morning washing experience.
    â€œThe pipes are fixed,” she interrupted. “I think it’s safe to go back in the bathroom.”
    No point in arguing. Sally giggled as I left the kitchen and went into the bathroom.
    Here goes nothing, I thought, and approached the sink warily. The new pipes gleamed. I left the door open and twisted the faucet lever slowly, ready to get out of there in a hurry. But the water flowed normally and there were no strange noises in the plumbing.
    At least that was fixed.
    When I went back into the kitchen there was a bun on my plate. I picked up the top, checked it out. Looked like hamburger. I glopped ketchup on it and took a big bite. Yep, tasted like hamburger.
    â€œWhen you finish your lunch, Jay, check the basement and see if there are any extra trash cans,” said Mom, wiping Sally’s face and hands. “Your father has promised to take Sally for a walk while I get some work done in the office. So I want it quiet around here, OK?”
    â€œNo problem, Mom,” I said, and made a zipping motion