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"It’s okay, Astrid," he said

She melted into his ar you crazy to think of what is going on out there?!"

He held her in his big football-player arms and she wept

I was up on my feet I had propelledto the Ho

Alex followedsoie treat boxes out of my way

"Dean?" Alex asked "Do you knohat type Mom and Dad are, by chance?"

I shook ot O," he said

"That’s stupid," I said "I’lad you are type B It’s the least scary of them all"

"Sterility is definitely the best one," he replied "Because it’s highly unlikely that I would be a father, anyway It’s highly unlikely I would ever want to, even if I could, after all of this"

I looked at him Sometimes the way his brain worked just a as he could look at it scientifically

"Anyway, I just wanted to say I’ot the worst type"

And satisfied with our discussion, he walked away

Alex, I will tell you, was just like our dad Looked like hiht like hiineer and a land surveyor, employed almost exclusively by Richardson Hearth Homes He loved his work but hated the developments he helped build All the houses with their customizable elements--countertops, appliances, façade colors--he said they were for people ere mall-minded It was a phrase of his Similar to small-minded, but rown up working at one national chain store to earn a paycheck they’d spend on crappy products and bad food fro about hbors, but built the very homes they lived in A weird paradox And we lived, always, in one of his developave my parents such a steep discount

What my dad did love was the technical aspect of his work Surveying,with reat at

Alex was like that, too He thought in terures and trends

When he was a little kid he was scared of everything Dogs, trucks, the dark, Halloween; you naht hi trick-or-treating with hi to a technical debriefing:

"That’s not a real witch, it’s a plastic figurine with LED lights for eyes and a prerecorded screech track Those are not real gravestones; they are PVC s on the writer Those are not real deh school kids dressed in costureens or possibly ordered online…"

And all the while Alex’d be squeezing my hand like it offered his last link to sanity

I had liked being his protector--the one who made hi attacked hiood team--he was super-smart I was super-stable Kind of like our parents, actually

Where our dad was brilliant and angsty, our rounded and opti she and I really shared Our house was full of old books She’d buy the their tabsbooks with athem at all

She had ht copies of A Room of One’s Own (sort of indecipherable to reat read)

Moany of them

Once I asked her why she never wrote the books she told me about

"Oh, sweetie," she had said "I try But, somehow, after I tell you about the idea, it’s like the air is out of the balloon and I don’t need to write it any a writer, she took care of us

And worked retail during the holidays

Alex and I foraged for some snacks and eventually went back to the Media Depart and Astrid went to her She picked her up and hugged her

"I had a nightmare," Caroline sobbed "I wanther close

"Hey, thanks for waking oing to take , Chloe," Batiste noted "That’s a you-knohat"

"No, it’s not!" Chloe countered

"Yes, it is too!" Batiste said

"You know, Batiste, you’re being very judgmental is a sin"

"That’s not a sin!" Batiste said, offended "I know all about sinning, and being judguess," Astrid said "But do you really want to risk it?"

That gave hih at his perplexed expression

Then Astrid said, "Okay, you guys, I’ll take you to the bathroom Everyone uses the bathroo from the frozen foods aisle for dinner"

Little Henry asked, "Are we going to the ladies’ rooo in the men’s room"