to turn out okay.
She took her hand away and his head felt cold without it.
"I be home late tonight, kind of working half a double," said Miz Smitcher.
"I'll do my homework the minute I get home."
"Don't wait dinner for me, what I'm saying."
"I won't."
She got in the car and backed out of the driveway and pulled out into the street. He watched her out of sight, then went into the house and took a shower.
When he came out, he heard a voice from the kitchen. "Mack Street, when you get dressed, would you mind coming in here and talking to me?" It was Mrs. Tucker, Ceese's mom. It was plain she knew that Miz Smitcher was gone, so it was Mack she wanted to talk to. She didn't sound agitated - in fact, she sounded downright perky. But it wasn't like adults came calling on him every day. Had to be something wrong, and had to be she thought he had something to do with it or knew something about it, so whatever it was, Mack was probably going to wish it wasn't happening.
Didn't make him dress any faster; didn't make him dress any slower. He'd find out what it was, deal with it as best he could. Mack wasn't one to worry, or at least he didn't go to great lengths to avoid facing whatever was coming at him.
Once he had his briefs on, he paused for a moment before putting on his pants. They weren't too dirty to wear - though they did look as though they had made the passage through the woods. Thing is, he wasn't sure he could trust them. He'd read plenty of stories about magic stuff that disappeared at midnight or some other inconvenient time. But at least he'd have his briefs on, if the pants vanished off his butt. So he pulled on the pants and padded into the kitchen where Mrs. Tucker was sipping tea and looking a little tense.
Ceese was sitting in the chair next to her. Well, that was no big deal, Ceese probably didn't have a morning class.
"It's just a little thing," she said. "Hardly worth mentioning, but it's been bothering me since it happened last night." And then she stopped.
Mack looked at Ceese, who was staring at the table looking solemn.
"I brought Ceese along because he's going to be a policeman now," said Mrs. Tucker. "Not that I think any crime has been committed!"
"And not that I know a thing about police work yet," said Ceese. "I just signed up to train for the test."
"You're going to be a cop?" asked Mack, fascinated. "You never hit anybody in your life."
"I did so," said Ceese, "but that ain't what decides you on being a cop. The idea is you try not to hit anybody, but if you have to, then you know how. Same thing with guns. You hope to be a cop who never has to fire a gun at a person, but if the time comes when you got no choice, then you know how to do it right."
"So why you doing it, Ceese?" asked Mack. "I thought you were going to build bridges."
"I was going to design electronics," said Ceese. "Lots of different kinds of engineering, Mack.
But I was bored. Didn't feel like anything I was doing mattered to anybody. Being a cop, now, that matters. You make a difference. You keep people safe."
"Like you looked after me," said Mack.
"Like that."
"So what do you think I done wrong?"
"No," protested Mrs. Tucker. "We don't think you did a thing that's wrong. In fact, if you did it, then it definitely wasn't wrong, but I just have to know."
"Know what?" asked Mack.
"What happened to the leftover chili I was heating up for Winston and me for supper last night."
Mack knew at once what happened to it, and it pissed him off. If the magic at Skinny House could arrange for half a dozen copies of his pants to hang from hooks in a closet, why couldn't it simply copy Mrs. Tucker's chili out of her fridge instead of stealing it?
But he couldn't very well say so. He could just imagine how they'd react if he said, I ate it, but not from your fridge, it got magically transported to the fridge at an invisible house down the street, so when I ate it I didn't know I was eating yours. But it sure was delicious. I did my hot-mouth dance when I ate it.
"That's what we don't