Free All Good Children by Catherine Austen Page B

ass.
    â€œThese children are fifteen years old,” Coach Emery says as he leaves. “Remember that.”
    Dr. Richmond’s glance passes over the coach like he’s a servant without a tray, and lands on me like I’m shit on his shoes. “I guess it’s just you left.”
    Dallas looms in front of his father. “We’re not going anywhere with you. Don’t make social plans for me. I am not your little boy.”
    Dr. Richmond steps back, cocks his head, tries to focus his sight. Blink, blink. “Come home with your brother and we’ll order pizza.”
    Dallas moves into his father’s face again, looks down into his watery eyes. “Don’t ever walk onto that field while I’m playing.”
    Dr. Richmond looks from Dallas to me and back. “What were you two doing in the school for so long?”
    Dallas bristles. “Don’t talk to my friends. Don’t talk to my team. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even come to my games. I don’t want you here.”
    â€œI’m helping you out!” Dr. Richmond shouts. “If I ever saw a kid who needed help, it’s you. I can’t wait till you get the goddamned support treatment because you need it bad.”
    â€œI don’t need any help from you,” Dallas says. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. You’re a reeking drunk.” He walks away, toward the road.
    â€œI’ll give you and your buddy a ride!” Dr. Richmond shouts.
    â€œJust fuck off!” Dallas shouts back.
    It’s amazing the kind of lip a kid can get away with when his father doesn’t have the sperm to make another one.

    Xavier is camped in my living room, watching an ancient movie on the big screen while his sister helps Ally with homework at the kitchen table. Celeste’s blond hair cascades over a flowery pink shirt that hugs her breasts.
    Dallas poses in the archway flexing his biceps, like she might otherwise overlook someone his height.
    â€œMom’s not home yet?” I ask.
    â€œShe got an extra shift,” Celeste says. “There’s some kind of outbreak killing the old people, something to do with mice. She should be home by eight.”
    I kiss Ally’s head. “We won our game. Did you eat?”
    She nods and whispers, “The burger made me sick.”
    â€œYou want to go lie down?”
    She smiles and flees from the table, leaving her homework unfinished on the kitchen screen. I dissolve it before I open the fridge.
    â€œStop! I’ll order in,” Dallas shouts, whipping out his RIG. “Will you stay for chili and chips, Celeste?”
    â€œThat’s sweet of you, Dennis, but I ate with Ally.”
    I laugh. “Dallas. His name is Dallas.”
    She shrugs like it’s irrelevant to her life. “Come on, Xavier. Time to go.”
    Xavier doesn’t move.
    â€œWhat are you watching?” I ask him.
    â€œ Body Snatchers .”
    â€œLooks demented.”
    Celeste streams the movie through her RIG and lures Xavier to the door with it.
    His face is split by a fake scar that rips from his left eyebrow across his nose and cheek down to his jawbone. “It’s about space creatures that make themselves into clones of every human on the planet,” he says. “They kill all the people and take their place in society.”
    â€œWhy not just set up their own society?” Dallas asks.
    â€œWhy bother cloning us?”
    Xavier rubs his scar off absentmindedly as he processes the question.
    Celeste takes his hand. “It’s a metaphor,” she says.
    Xavier smiles. “Yes. Exactly. It’s a metaphor.”
    â€œFor what?” Dallas asks.
    â€œFor what makes us human.”
    â€œOf course,” Dallas says. He turns to me and shrugs.
    When Celeste is gone, and we don’t have to pretend to a level of maturity we’ll never attain in our lives, Dallas and I settle comfortably into chili and