Chapter 9

Molly marched across the yard, up the steps, and right past Margaret and John without a glance. They all went into the kitchen, where Molly washed the egg slime and blood from her hands. The pecks on her hands burned when the water hit them.

“Eggs are good for your skin, I hear,” Margaret said with a smirk. “But I think you’re supposed to eat them, not wear them.”

“I would smash every egg I collected on your head with pleasure,” Molly thought, smiling at Margaret with gritted teeth.

“Why don’t you take a shower and change, Molly?” John suggested quickly. He could feel the tension in the air the same way animals feel a storm approaching.

“I will, thank you.”

She went to her room to make herself presentable. She glanced at herself in the mirror. A surprised snort of laughter escaped. She looked like an actress in a cheap sci-fi movie, “Attack of the Chicken People.”

She showered and came back to the kitchen, wearing clean clothes and toweling her hair.

Margaret had cut a piece of apple pie and was helping John to eat it. She cleaned every imaginary crumb from his lips with her manicured finger.

Molly made some coffee, and pulled a chair close to John.

Margaret scooped up some pie and placed the spoon into John’s mouth. The clink of a spoon against the plate was the only sound for quite a while. Then Molly helped him to drink his coffee. She had great pleasure watching Margaret’s expression while she fed John. Truth was, he was embarrassed by being fed like a baby, but he was also hungry. Besides, it wasn’t a secret he couldn’t feed by himself.