Parker met me at my locker after school, right on time. We got our rations—this time we had a couple cans of fruit cocktail and a chocolate bar—and carried them to my car. Parker didn’t say a word to me the whole time, and he didn’t meet my eyes once.I had never felt so alone in my life, and that was saying something.Parker and I arrived home to the whiny roar of the vacuum. Mom was in the living room, using the hose to suck up the bits of plaster chips and dust that kept coming loose from the cracked ceiling. Her back was to us, and she didn’t hear us come in.Parker and I shared a glance. Neither of us had dared vacuum anything since the earthquake. Loud noises tended to lead to panic attacks. Now, in a single day, everything was different again. I had no idea what to expect from Mom anymore.“Mom,” Parker called over the drone of the vacuum. “Mom!”On impulse, I reached behind me and swung the door shut. The slam it made reverberated through the house. I hadn’t slammed a door in our house in a month, and it felt better than I’d ever imagined slamming a door could feel.Mom dropped the vacuum attachment and whirled around, clutching her heart.“Oh!”
