Page 68 of Potion Sickness

“I think I might know,” I say, and I get in the car.

CHAPTER 20

Dorcas has been banned from bringing any leftovers to rehearsal, so we decide to have dinner early.

Hannah brought a pan of baked ziti, Gabe brought a salad, and Addie brought her composition book. She’s next to Emma, who of course brought her clipboard. Huddled over their notes, the two of them look like a very small regulatory agency having a working lunch.

Lily brought a rock.

“Are we eating?” Bandit says, through the screen.

“We are eating,” Addie says. “You already have a bowl.”

“The bowl is outside.”

“You’re outside.”

“Is that fair?” Bandit. Nobody answers, so he settles down on the porch.

Gabe runs a line at the table without meaning to, muttering “if it were done when ’tis done” into his ziti.

“Better,” Englebert says, from the head of the table.

Maude, who has been posted up under the table waiting wherever he thinks someone might be most likely to drop something, lets out a delighted meow when he procures a meatball he definitely wasn’t intentionally given.

During a lull in conversation, Lily announces abruptly that she’s taught Bandit about death.

“You did what now?” Hannah says.

“We’re doing a play. Our own play.”

“That’s nice, Lil.”

“It’s a whole show,” Lily says. “Bandit does it under the porch at the Community Center and I’m the only one who can watch because I’m the only one who can fit.”

“So that’s where you’ve been going,” Emma says.

“He does dying. He does dying really good. He falls over sideways and then he does it again.”

“For someone so adamant he’s not a rodent,” Engelbert says, “that sounds like possum behavior.”

“Possums aren’t rodents,” I say. “We went over this last month.”

“Either way. Neither are raccoons.”

“He has a sword,” Lily says.

Hannah reaches over and presses Lily’s fork into her hand. “Eat.”

“He holds it in both hands like this and he goes” —Lily stabs the air twice— “and then he dies and then he gets back up and does the whole thing again. He was being Macbeth.”

“Lily Archer,” Englebert says, rising to his full height. “THE NAME. IN THIS HOUSE. Out. Turn thrice, spit⁠—”

“This isn’t the theater, Englebert,” Gabe says.

“Also, she’s six,” says Hannah.

“Justice is ageless.”