Free Velveteen by Saul Tanpepper Page B

them, but I know some may already be
    dead
    lost. Some are fading. It’s okay, as long as I don’t forget the most important things:
    Mama and Daddy.
    Shinji.
    Myself.
    But most of all:
    My dear sweet Ben Nicholas.
    My poor little baby brother.
    So I allow the memories to scratch and claw inside my head until they are raw and bleeding inside of me again. That’s what keeps them fresh.
    Are there really such things as vampire rabbits, Daddy?
    Only in storybooks, honey.
    What about zombies? Are there zombie rabbits?
    Zombies? No, honey. Not rabbits, only people. Now, shhh. Go to sleep. Sweet dreams, my baby.

    “I wish you wouldn’t read her that silly story, Rame. Not right before bed. She’ll have nightmares.”
    “What story?”
    “Seriously? You’re going to play that game?”
    “Oh, come on, Lyssa. Cut me some slack, it’s just a silly little kid’s book.”
    I turn onto my side and bury my head in the pillow, trying to drown out the sound of my parents arguing. They said they weren’t going to. Mama told Daddy he could stay with us as long as they didn’t fight, and Daddy promised to try not to. But now they’re at it again and that means he’ll have to leave, and I don’t like it when he’s not here.
    Nothing has been the same, not since Mama returned from the hospital a couple months ago, when my little baby brother died. He wasn’t but just two days old.
    I wrap the pillow tight around my ears, but then I discover that it works too well. I really can’t hear a thing except for my own rapid heartbeat and a few of the louder words coming through as muffled sounds with no meaning. I don’t want to listen, but I also don’t want to not hear.
    I can’t help myself. I slip off the bed and tiptoe over to the door. Squatting down behind it in a tight little ball, I hug my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them. My toes wiggle in the harsh yellow light that washes through the crack underneath the door. I try not to feel naughty for spying.
    The arguing stops for a moment. I freeze, every muscle in my body aching. Did they hear me?
    I hope they don’t come in to check. If they do, I’ll run back to my bed and dive beneath the covers and pretend to be sleeping. I’ll probably be breathing too hard and fast, though, and then they’ll know I’m really awake and was listening.
    Would it make them stop arguing?
    My breath is quick and warm on my arm. It tickles the hairs, making me shiver even though the air in my room is too hot and thick and close about me that it makes it hard to fill my lungs. But I don’t open my window. I won’t let in the cool air. There are things out there in the night, frightening things. Not vampires, which I know aren’t real, but other things which are.
    We live in a different world now, Lyssa. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You’re not helping Cassie.
    I close my eyes and lean my head against the door. It rattles slightly, but they don’t hear it. I let out a deep breath. They’re arguing again. About
    him, even when it’s not
    me.
    “All I’m saying is that she doesn’t need to hear stories about blood-sucking rabbits.”
    Daddy laughs. “It’s not a blood -sucking rabbit, Lyss. It sucks the juice out of fruits and vegetables and turns them white. I mean, come on! Millions of kids have read it, and I doubt it ever caused a single one of them to have nightmares. Besides, it’s Cassie’s favorite. Where do you think she got her rabbit’s name from anyway? You never asked her about that.”
    “I don’t know! I just assumed the stupid thing already came with a name.”
    Nothing for a moment. Then:
    “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, Ramon. But I still don’t like it, that story. In fact, I don’t like most of the stories you choose for her. They’re always so . . . so dark and violent. We don’t need that right now.”
    “Name one.”
    “What about that book with the rabbits who have to leave their home?”
    “ Watership Down ? Really? Okay, it has