“Nice dress. Can you breathe in that thing?”I smoothed the front of my dress. “It would be much more fun to wear if it wasn’t what I was going to be buried in.”“You are not going to be buried.” He paused, lifted the clothes up suspiciously.“Vampires don’t bury their victims,” he added distractedly.“Hey, looking for comfort here.”

“You really dug your own grave,” he mutters. “And I’m going to bury you in it.” “Say that louder,” I tell him, under my breath. “I dare you.”

“There was nowhere to go, but I turned to go and met Atticus's vest front. I buried my head in it and listened to the small internal noises that went on behind the light blue cloth: his watch ticking, the faint crackle of his starched shirt, the soft sound of his breathing.'Your stomach's growling,' I said.'I know it,' he said.”

“Was he coming to bury the hatchet? Was there a hatchet to even be buried? For some reason I started thinking of how weird it was that I would always be his son and he would always be my father, that there was nothing that could ever change. I didn't know whether this permanence was comforting or terrifying.”

“Dear God!”I screamed and buried my face in my pillow.“What?!” I heard him ask. “Did you see a roach?”“Why are you naked?!” I did not dare to lift my red face.“Huh. Is that all?” he asked. “I always sleep in the buff. I don't know how you can stand all that clothing.”“Unbelievable.” I said, and without looking at him I pulled myself up and stomped to the bathroom.”

“Temae looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he realized she was taking in his attire. “Are you really going to meet her dressed like that?”“These are the best clothes I’ve got.”“That is what you wear all the time.”“Like I said.”