Roar, roar goes the blender. Uncle Stephen is making his health drink, same as he’s done every morning since he got here.
Roar, roar“Good, God,” Mom says. “Doesn’t the man ever stop annoying people?”
When I open my eyes, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, slipping her feet into flip-flops.
“Go back to sleep if you want to, honey,” she tells me. “I’m getting up while the bathroom’s free.”
I turn to face the wall and pull the pillow over my head. It doesn’t help. I can still hear the blender. Now there’s a crunching sound to the roar: my uncle adding ice.
Mom shuts the door softly between our bedroom and the bathroom we have to share with the brat cousins. The blender finally stops, so when Mom comes right back into the room she sounds louder.
“Henry, do you know what happened to my
