“But you won’t be alone,” Arthur said. “You’ll have—”
“Us,” another voice said from the entrance of the kitchen. They turned to see Zoe Chapelwhite leaning against the doorway, the flowers in her hair open, the petals thick and colorful. Her dress was violet with pink blooms along the hem, her hands in the large pockets. She smiled and winked at Arthur.
“Oh my,” another voice said. “Happy birt? That’s a new one.”
Helen Webb appeared in the entryway, stopping to stand on her tiptoes to kiss Zoe on the cheek. The mayor—and owner of Talia’s favorite gardening store—had carved out a place for herself in their home. Arthur still remembered the wispy girl with big, pretty eyes who’d served him ice cream when he was a child. Now, she was pleasantly plump and wore her usual: a pair of denim overalls over a wrinkled work shirt, her boots similar to Talia’s.
The children all yelled their greetings, and Arthur chuckled at the cacophony. He doubted he could ever go back to the quiet way it’d once been here, when it’d been just him, Zoe, and an unrealized dream.
“We’re going to be with you,” Zoe said as she took her seat next to Phee and Arthur, Calliope ignoring Helen as she tried to pet her in her spot on the windowsill above the sink. Calliope allowed it to go on for longer than normal before she raised a paw, put it on the back of Helen’s hand, and pushed it away as if to say Thank you, but enough.
“That’s right,” Helen said as she took the last empty seat. “And we’re going to have so much fun. Anything you need, you just ask. Zoe and I will take care of it.”
“Anything?” Lucy asked sweetly.
“Within reason,” Arthur said.
“Stupid reason,” Lucy muttered, grabbing a piece of toast and munching mutinously.
“Can we stay at your house?” Chauncey asked Zoe. “It’s my turn to use the tree hammock.”
“No, it’s not,” Talia said. “You got it last time. It’s my turn.”
Arthur cleared his throat pointedly.
“Or,” Talia said, “we can share.”
“Heck yes,” Chauncey said, eyes lowering toward the baked beans and inspecting the sloppy can-shaped tower. “But just remember that I ink now. Lucy called them my nocturnal emissions, which is a funny way of putting it because it doesn’t always happen at night.”
“Lucy,” Linus said sternly.
“Eat, everyone,” Arthur said. “We have much to discuss, and I think we’ll all feel better about it with full bellies.”
“Why is the bacon bleeding?” Zoe asked.
“It’s not blood,” Sal said. “Lucy wanted to use real blood, but we didn’t know where to get any legally so I mixed corn syrup, chocolate syrup, and red food coloring.”
Lucy rolled his eyes. “I know where to get real blood, but Arthur said I’m not allowed to do that anymore.”
“I did,” Arthur said simply.
“This meal certainly looks … somewhat edible,” Linus said. “Arthur, would you like to try the bacon first?”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Arthur said. “It’s your birt, after all. You should get the first bite.”
“I insist.”
“Do you? How kind of you. I’m afraid I must insist even more.”
“So many people want to eat my food,” Lucy said in awe. “This must be what it feels like to be God. Fun fact! Some people go to church and ritually eat Jesus and drink his blood. Isn’t that interesting?”
“Oh my goodness,” Chauncey whispered. “I’ll just stick to eating pine cones, thank you very much.”
“So very interesting,” Linus said. “I suppose I will have some bacon.”
“One bloody entrail coming up!” Talia said, stabbing a piece with her fork and lifting it off the tray. She handed the fork over to Phee, who sniffed the meat and grimaced. She gave it to Lucy, who in turn set it on Linus’s plate.
Linus poked at it for a moment until Lucy leaned in and whispered loudly, “I made it with love.”
Linus winced, took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth, and then brought the wet bacon up to his lips. Lucy tracked every movement, eyes growing wider and wider as Linus bit daintily, breaking off a small chunk. He chewed slowly, myriad emotions crossing his face—horror, disgust, confusion, followed quickly by surprise, disgust again, then something that closely resembled forlorn acceptance.
“Well?” Lucy demanded.
Linus swallowed thickly, throat bobbing. “It was … surprisingly edible.” And with that, he took another bite. “Thank you.”
“Bloody entrails for all!” Lucy cried, and the birt breakfast was underway.
After the breakfast had been partially consumed, Arthur cleared his throat, causing everyone to look at him—even Calliope, who had settled onto Sal’s lap.
Arthur chose his words carefully. “As you know, Linus and I will be traveling over the next few days, and I want to make sure you all understand what we’re doing.”
“You’re testifying,” Phee said. “In front of the government.”
“Yes, I am. I have been asked to provide an account of my time here on the island when I was a child.”
Theodore clicked a question, a single word: Why?
“Because…” He paused. Then, “Because, if there is a chance someone will listen and learn from the past, then that’s a chance I need to take. You know of my history with the island, how I was brought up in this very house. And how it … ended.”
