more cars and bridges and little people and houses. He
thinks we could build a whole city," he told me
excitedly.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up. He already had his
hair brushed and was buttoning his shirt on the way
out.
"Mr. Kotes isn't coming back. Noble," I told
him. "He's never coming back.'"
"Why not?" he asked from the doorway. "He was in a terrible accident last night, and he
was killed." I reported. Mommy hadn't told me not to
tell him.
"What? You're lying," he spit at me. "You're a
big, fat, stupid liar!"
"No. I'm not. Noble."
He stood there a moment, and then he went out
and slammed the door. I heard him charging down the
stairway. Mommy's voice was muffled, but the tone
was not hard to feel. I rose, washed, and dressed.
When I descended the stairs. I found Noble at the
table, sulking over his bowl of oatmeal. Mommy was
standing by the window, looking out, her back to us.
She was in the same black dress she had worn for
Daddy's funeral.
Noble raised his eyes slowly and looked at me,
but he didn't say anything. He looked very angry, "It's not my fault." I muttered.
Mommy turned slowly and looked at me a moment and then back out the window. I poured myself some juice, put a piece of bread in the toaster, and stirred some oatmeal into a bowl for myself. When I returned to the table. Noble was sitting back, his arms so tightly embracing himself that he looked
like he was pushing all his blood into his face. "Mommy won't let me play with my trains," he
complained. "She wants me to take it all apart and put
it back into the box."
"You help him. Celeste," Mommy added, still