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Paps's thigh as hard as he could.
    "Yeah," he said, "you're supposed to find us."
    I joined in, kicking for Paps but hitting Ma; it felt dull and mean and perfect. Then we were all three kicking and slapping at once, and they didn't say a word, they didn't even move; the only noise was the noise of skin and impact and breath, and then our protests, why don't you come find us, why don't you do what you're supposed to do, come and find us, why don't ya, because you're bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, why don't you do right, why can't you do right, we hate you, come and find us, we hate you, everyone hates you, you better come and find us, next time, next time you better come.
    We hit and we kept on hitting; we were allowed to be what we were, frightened and vengeful—little animals, clawing at what we needed.

Night Watch
    P APS FOUND A NIGHT job, and since Ma still worked graveyards at the brewery, where there was no place to hide little boys, weeknights we went to work with Paps and slept on the floor, in front of the vending machines. Paps was the security guard, the night watch.
    One night I woke sweating and twisted inside my sleeping bag. I kicked free and stood looking down on my brothers, their faces painted orange from the light coming through the window, and their shadowed jack-o'-lantern eyes. I walked over to the desk where Paps sat watching a little television monitor, leaning back in his chair, holding both cigarette and beer bottle slack-armed and low to the floor.
    I asked if it was almost time to go home.
    Paps did his dog growl, he snapped his teeth, but then he set his bottle down and pulled me onto his lap anyway. I rested my face against his chest, and he ran his hand down along my spine from the base of my skull to my lower back; he kept doing that.
    "I like sleeping in a bed," I said.
    "Me too," Paps said. "Me too."
    From his lap, I could see outside the window. A few feet away, on the brick wall of the next building, a single orange bulb was locked inside a metal mesh box.
    "Why is that light in a cage?" I asked.
    "Same reason you cage a bird," Paps said.
    "What's that mean?"
    "So it don't fly away."
    "Can you unlock it?"
    "What do you think?"
    After some time, Paps shut the little TV on the desk.
    "I think the noise woke you up," he whispered close to my ear, and I nodded approvingly. I could feel the muscles in his chest, and underneath, his heart working. I fell asleep.
    The next time I woke, I was still in Paps's arms, but he was shaking me awake and setting me down and saying, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
    He stepped over to where Manny and Joel were sleeping and prodded them with the tip of his boot.
    "Up," he said. "Hurry."
    My brothers groaned and tried to roll away from him.
    "Get a move on," Paps hollered. "We're late!"
    Before they were even fully standing, Paps was already on his knees gathering up the bedding, yanking so wildly that Joel got tangled and fell back down. We busted up laughing until Paps smacked Manny openhanded across the face and Manny yelped; then we were silent.
    "Take your brothers out to the car and get under the covers and stay there until I come out." He shook Manny back and forth by one arm. " Entiendes? "
    When we got outside, the morning man was there, Paps's replacement—taller than Paps, and white. He blew into a Styrofoam cup, and the cup billowed its own steam back at him. When he spotted the three of us, he stopped blowing and set the cup on a low wall that separated the sidewalk from the building's narrow yard.
    Left to right, right to left, his gaze, cold and curious, touched down on each of our faces, our heaps of blankets, even our little rubber snow boots. No one spoke; only Manny shifted slightly to cover his cheek with a blanket. Then Paps came out and broke the spell, pushing past us on the stairs and extending his hand to the other man, shaking it once and firm, saying "Morning" loud and direct in his face.
    "These yours?"
    "That's what she keeps telling me."
    The man