Fallout (Crank 3)

early to make double sure

my room is spotless—fresh

sheets and pillowcase; no

dirty clothes in the hamper;

trash emptied; furniture

dusted; carpet vacuumed—

before I even think about

heading out the door to school.

This morning is in perfect order.

We’ll see what evening brings.

AUNT CORA

Doesn’t seem to notice

the scent of change in the air.

She sings as she busies herself

in the kitchen, making breakfast.

Usually we all just settle for cereal,

but today I smell a hot griddle.

Pancakes? Something is definitely

going on. The domestic goddess

thing so isn’t her. “Morning.”

Her back is to me, and she jumps

a little before turning, red-faced.

You scared me half to death!

But she’s laughing, and I can’t

help but laugh too. “Kind of

an overstatement, don’t you think?

And what’s up with the pancakes?

Going Rachael Ray on us, or what?”

I watch her ladle thick, lumpy batter.

Rachael Ray? Ha-ha. Don’t think