“Oh, we’re plucking right along,” George said brightly. “How about you?”
“Doing fine,” Norma said.
“Don’t have a Get Out of Jail Free card on you, by any chance?”
Norma gave him a cruise-control smile and went back through the swinging door that presumably led to the kitchen.
“Why do I bother?” George said. “My best lines are wasted in here. Wasted, I tell you.”
He reached for the stack of menus in the center of the table and handed them around. At the top was the day’s date. Below that was STARTERS (buffalo wings or tomato bisque), ENTREES (bison burger or American chop suey), and FINISHERS (apple pie à la mode or something called Magic Custard Cake). Half a dozen soft drinks were listed.
“You can get milk, but they don’t bother putting it on the menu,” Kalisha said. “Most kids don’t want it unless they have cereal for breakfast.”
“Is the food really good?” Luke asked. The prosaic nature of the question—as if they were maybe at a Sandals resort where the meals were included—brought back his sense of unreality and dislocation.
“Yes,” Iris said. “Sometimes they weigh us. I’ve put on four pounds.”
“Fattening us up for the kill,” Nicky said. “Like Hansel and Gretel.”
“On Friday nights and Sunday noons there are buffets,” Kalisha said. “All you can eat.”
“Like Hansel and fucking Gretel,” Nicky repeated. He made a half-turn, looking up at a camera in the corner. “Come on back, Norma. I think we’re ready.”
She returned at once, which only increased Luke’s sense of unreality. But when his wings and chop suey came, he ate heartily. He was in a strange place, he was afraid for himself and terrified about what might have happened to his parents, but he was also twelve.
A growing boy.
6
They must have been watching, whoever they were, because Luke had barely finished the last bite of his custard cake before a woman dressed in another of those pink quasi-uniforms appeared at his side. GLADYS, her name badge said. “Luke? Come with me, please.”
He looked at the other four. Kalisha and Iris wouldn’t meet his gaze. Nicky was looking at Gladys, arms once more folded across his chest and wearing a faint smile. “Why don’t you come back later, honey? Like around Christmas. I’ll kick you under the mistletoe.”
She paid no attention. “Luke? Please?”
George was the only one looking directly at him, and what Luke saw on his face made him think of what he’d said before they came in from the playground: Pick your battles. He got up. “See you guys later. I guess.”
Kalisha mouthed soundless words at him: Shots for dots.
Gladys was small and pretty, but for all Luke knew, she was a black belt who could throw him over her shoulder if he gave her any trouble. Even if she wasn’t, they were watching, and he had no doubt reinforcements would show up in a hurry. There was something else, as well, and it was powerful. He had been raised to be polite and obey his elders. Even in this situation, those were hard habits to break.
Gladys led him past the bank of windows Nicky had mentioned. Luke looked out and yes, there was another building out there. He could barely see it through the screening trees, but it was there, all right. Back Half.
He looked over his shoulder before leaving the caff, hoping for some reassurance—a wave, or even a smile from Kalisha would do. There was no wave, and no one was smiling. They were looking at him the way they had in the playground, when he had asked if their parents were alive. Maybe they didn’t know about that, not for sure, but they knew where he was going now. Whatever it was, they had already been through it.
7
“Gosh, what a pretty day, huh?” Gladys said as she led him along the cinderblock corridor and past his room. The corridor continued down another wing—more doors, more rooms—but they turned left, into an annex that appeared to be your basic elevator lobby.
Luke, ordinarily quite good at make-nice conversation, said nothing. He was pretty sure it was what Nicky would do in this situation.
“The bugs, though . . . ooh!” She waved away invisible insects, and laughed. “You’ll want to wear plenty of bug-dope, at least until July.”
“When the dragonflies hatch out.”
“Yes! Exactly!” She trilled a laugh.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” She waggled her eyebrows, as to say don’t spoil the surprise.
The elevator doors opened. Two men in blue shirts and pants got off. One was JOE,