I waited for Kevin on his front porch.
The Mom yelled, “KEVIN.” Her voice made a screeching noise, like how my fat sister sounds when she screams at me. Then the Mom patted my head with her yellow dish-washing glove and said she had to go back to the sink, and Kevin would come soon.
KEVIN BY SE DIAMOND 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 133
A lot of people died this summer. This summer was hot. We couldn’t afford to turn on our air-conditioner, because cold was too expensive.
My Mom was painting our front lawn a lime-green. Our neighbors were tattle-tellers, and if they saw us watering our grass they’d call Water Patrol.
When we saw the moving truck pull up next door, right away Mom was suspicious. The movers were guys with ponytails and tattoos, their shoelaces untied.
My Dad was a policeman and he used to tell us at dinner that these guys you hire for day jobs are all parolees. Hiring them is an invitation to crime. They’ll see all your stuff and then they’ll come back at night with hammers. If you’re lucky, things will only get stolen and you won’t get killed.
My Mom was nice to the family as they got out of their Mitsubishi van. She said her name was Deirdre Diamond and that they should come over for dinner some time, and how old are the kids, and oh Kevin and CeCe are darling names.
Mom said that she’d let them get back to directing the mover guys, and that she had extra paint in the garage if they wanted to borrow some.
A few days later my Mom made me go next door with a box of assorted flavor fun fruit snacks and ask Kevin if he’d like to eat some fun fruits with me. I didn’t want to, but Mom made me because it’s not healthy for a young boy to stay home and read the Encyclopedia.