"Dad said he and Mom didn't go into our room the night before, and that Whiskers had been out all night." Elizabeth poked at her dry bread roll. She guess that if she squished it down, it would pop right back up like one of those fancy foam mattresses.
"I bet there's a parallel universe where these beings live," Ed said. "And they only come through when people purposely set things out for them. Quantum physics."
She tolerated him at lunch. Very soon, she thought, she should try to find out where that cute boy in art class sat for lunch. She didn't want to look like she didn't have any other friends than Ed.
Unsure how to follow his comment, she continued with her story. "And then, after Mom and Dad were asleep, Josh put milk out on top of the counter above the dishwasher after he put soap in and turned it on. This morning, all the clean plates were put away. And I didn't interfere this time."
"Like I said," Ed said, drinking the last of his chocolate milk from a straw in his carton. Elizabeth thought this was a rather redundant way to drink milk. "Not surprising. Josh was expecting the--brownies, was it?--to come out, and so they did."
Elizabeth frowned at him. "That doesn't sound like physics." She looked at her plate and wondered why she'd picked the soup and bread. Perhaps she'd thought the soup would make the bread less dry, but the soup just sat there, untouched and watery. "Josh finally couldn't hold it in and told Dad what happened. Josh was so excited, he told Mom, too." Before Ed could go on about physics, she added, "They fought again this morning. Mom and Dad. About Josh. About Dad's 'stories' and things he 'makes us believe.'" She made little quote signs in the air.
Ed was silent, like he always was when she brought up the topic.
"Don't they say, when you grow up, you can't see faeries anymore? Maybe I'm too old. Maybe that's why I can't believe it happened. But then, Dad seems like he believes..."
"What's going to happen?" Ed said, and Elizabeth knew what he meant.
"I don't know." Elizabeth said. She fiddled with her spoon in the soup, moving two chunks of carrot to make eyes, and a frowning green bean for a mouth. "What's it like?" she asked.
"It's not so bad. I bet it will be better for you, since you have a brother."
Elizabeth looked at him, and felt pity. He knew what it felt like to be abandoned, like half of you ripped out of your body. And he hadn't had anyone to tell about it, no one to ask whether it was his fault. She was suddenly very happy that she had Josh, annoying faults and all.
"Did you bring your sketchbook?" Ed asked, the best friend she could ask for, someone who changes the subject when things start to hurt.
"Yes," she said, and started to wonder how she'd draw Mrs. Fennerman today.
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