As Jack walks slowly over toward the machines, I reach for the door. Parker fists a hand into my shirt.
“Are you leaving?” he asks.
“Just getting the shopping.” He chews on his lip, glancing at Jack’s back as he fiddles with the washer. I can’t help but laugh. “Parks, buddy, it wasyouridea to let him come over.”
“Well, yeah, but…but I’m coming with you to get the groceries. You shouldn’t leave me alone with a stranger. I’mnine.”
“Oh, now we’re nine,” I note, leading the way back down the stairs with Parker on my heels. “Funny how we’re no longer ten when it suits us.”
“Whatever,” he says, but the word is playful instead of angry.
Having learned that breakable things are not safe with him, I hand him the bags with no glass jars inside and take the rest. He practically sprints back up the stairs, and his eyes immediately look for Jack as he kicks off his shoes. I want to laugh again, but hold it back. He’s looking at Jack like he’s an exotic animal that strolled into the apartment, and he’s not sure whether to be excited or afraid.
“You right, Jacko?” I ask, dumping my shopping bags on the counter and popping open the fridge door.
“Yes. Fine. Thank you. Thanks again for letting me do this. I’m sorry to be a hassle.”
“You’re welcome,” Parker replies, the apparent master of the household. He’s standing in the middle ground between the kitchen and the living room, not helping me put away the shopping but at least not running and hiding in his bedroom right away.
“Do you need help?” Jack asks me.
“Nope. I’ve got it.” I glance back at him, noting the paperback clutched in his hands. “What’re you reading?”
“Oh.” He stares down at the book and blushes. “Vampire book.”
He gives an awkward little chuckle, and shrugs his shoulders. I smile at him.
“You read?” Parker asks, astounded. “That’s cool. I like to read, too. So does Desmond, but he needs glasses to see words. Also, he only reads old-people stuff.”
“What does that even mean, Parks?”
“Like…books written by dead people,” he clarifies.
“Bloody hell,” I mutter, tossing a fresh bag of carrots into the fridge. “Well, feel free to sit on the couch, or wherever, if you want to read while the machine is going.”
I want to urge Jack to relax. To soften his jaw, and drop his shoulders down from his ears. I want him to be comfortable, because something tells me he doesn’t often get to experience that phenomenon. In the little time I’ve known him, I’ve not once seen him calm.
“Do you like video games?” Parker asks, taking a step closer. I bite back my smile, ducking into the pantry to put away the dry goods. He’s apparently decided Jack is no longer a threat.
“I don’t know, I’ve never played.”
“You’ve never played anything ever?” Parker asks in shock. “I have a PC that I play on, and a special chair that has speakers in it for surround sound. I mostly play Minecraft. People in the chat are always talking about other games, but I like the ones?—”
“Chat?” I interrupt, turning so quickly I knock my shoulder into the pantry door, sending it slamming into the wall. “What do you mean, chat?”
“Like a chat room. Duh.”
“Are you saying you talk to people in the game? Real people?” As though they’d only been waiting for their moment to make an appearance, every story I’ve heard about internet pedophiles buzzes through my head. All of a sudden, I’m pretty sure every creep with internet access is chatting up Parker while he blissfully builds his block world.
“Duh,” Parker repeats, staring at me as though I’ve sprouted a second head. “Why are you being so weird?”
“You can’t—you can’t talk to people on the internet, Parks. You—we need to turn that off.”
“No way,” he protests. I glance over at Jack, silently listening to the conversation with his fingers clenched so tightly around his book, I can see bone. He looks mortified. “If you turn it off, I won’t be able to talk to my friends.”
“Mate, you don’t know who you’re talking to. You could be talking with someone my age pretending to be a kid like you.”
I stay calm, even though my immediate desire is to ban all internet use and toss his computer out the window. Bloody hell, how did I not know Minecraft had a fucking chat room? Parker’s face scrunches up in distaste at the thought of talking to someone my age on the internet.
