At Risk by Alice Hoffman Page B

bed. She sits down on the edge of the bed, and, though her eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark, she can feel Charlie’s presence.
    “I guess you didn’t get to spend a lot of time at the museum,” Amanda says.
    “Two hours,” Charlie says.
    “That patch is pretty neat,” Amanda says. She can see his face now.
    “How do you feel?” Charlie asks Amanda formally.
    “They’re all crazy,” Amanda says. “I’m fine. I’m great.”
    “Yeah,” Charlie quickly agrees.
    “I wish I could have gone to New York instead of going to that disgusting hospital,” Amanda says.
    Amanda is the one who really should have gone to New York. She’s the one who’s so wild to live there.
    “See anybody famous?” she asks.
    She is a maniac for famous people and has already seen George Burns, James Taylor, Sting, and Carol Channing, all walking down the street, and nobody, except for Amanda, even stared at them.
    “Nah,” Charlie says. “It’s too close to Labor Day. All the famous people go to their vacation homes.”
    “Mick Jagger goes to Montauk,” Amanda says wistfully.
    They listen to the rice-paper shade hitting against the sill.
    “I wish it was the beginning of the summer,” Charlie says.
    They can hear their father’s raised voice outside; he is arguing with someone, their mom or Grandpa Al, but they can’t make out the words. They don’t want to.
    “Don’t tell Mom,” Amanda whispers. “My throat hurts.”
    Charlie reaches into his pocket; behind the dinosaur patch he bought for Sevrin there’s a roll of Life Savers.
    “Here,” he says. He puts the roll of Life Savers into Amanda’s hand and recoils when he feels how cold her hand is.
    “You can’t catch it from touching me or anything like that,” Amanda tells him.
    “I know,” Charlie says, embarrassed. He wasn’t afraid of that, he was afraid of the cold. He thinks of his tyrannosaurus walk ing on the icy ground as the sky fills with shooting stars. “You can keep the whole roll,” he says.
    Amanda takes a cherry Life Saver and pops it into her mouth. “Thanks,” she says.
    Since they told her, Amanda has been afraid to go to sleep, but she’s always tired early. She stands up now. Her eyes have adjusted and she can see Charlie, huddled against the wall, still wearing his jeans and his jacket and his sneakers.
    “I just wanted to find out how New York was,” Amanda says.
    Charlie reaches into his pocket and feels the edges of Sevrin’s dinosaur patch.
    “I got you a present,” Charlie says.
    “What’s the joke?” Amanda says.
    “No joke,” Charlie tells her.
    He moves to the side of the bed and throws his legs over, so his feet reach the floor. He hands Amanda the dinosaur patch, which glows through its cellophane.
    “I’m going to put this on my gym bag,” Amanda says.
    “Great,” Charlie says.
    “Is this really for me?” Amanda says.
    “I gave it to you, didn’t I?” Charlie says.
    “What’d you do, put poison on it?”
    “Look, if you don’t want it, just give it back,” Charlie says.
    “No way,” Amanda tells him. “Thanks, beetle brain.”
    “You’re welcome, dogface,” Charlie counters.
    “Just remember,” Amanda says, “no backsies.”
    “All right, all right.” Charlie kicks off his sneakers and, realizing how warm it is tonight, takes off his jacket and stretches out on his bed.
    “No backsies,” he agrees.

FIVE

    POLLY HAS ALWAYS TAKEN the children shopping to Bradlee’s for new clothes and school supplies, and she doesn’t intend to stop now. The parking lot is a madhouse, but even before they get there Polly’s so tense that her neck aches. A nervous childhood habit of hers has returned; she has begun to grind her teeth.
    “Mom!” Amanda shouts, when a Volvo backing up nearly hits them.
    Polly doesn’t slow down. She’s been cheated out of everything else, she’s not about to get cheated out of the parking space she spies in the second row. She pulls in so fast that the children