Meteor

There was a time when all the kids at school started saying hi to each other the way adults do. It was the latest thing. Open the classroom door Hi. Walk to your locker Hi? Walk up the hallway Hi! The world of children was fading.

They can feel summer coming. There's no suffocation in the heat yet, everything's still and waiting. Tom's back in the studio. Elizabeth rolled over in bed and told him, This government's fucking us over. When she got up, she dug holes in the back paddock. They haven't eaten together since she put up the For Sale signs.

They're studying for School C. One afternoon Amy lets him lie on the grass near her.

Amy.
Silence.
Amy.
page 118 Silence.
I can hear you breathing.
What!
Did you know Kilgore Trout isn't just in this book, he's a famous writer. He's in lots of books.
So. Pass the Cole's Notes.

He throws the slim yellow volume at her. She flicks through the pages. Do you think they'll ask that in the exam?

He rolls onto his back, holds the book above his head to cover the sun. Light illuminates the soft thumbed edges. Federico contemplates time travel. He thinks Billy Pilgrim was probably crazy because of the war. But who really knows? Bea said nothing is impossible. He thinks of city streets with soldiers in them. Streets melt and flow like fire or lava which is molten rock, which is not fire exactly. Deep inside the house the phone rings. Amy doesn't move.

Aren't you gonna get that? he says.

Nope. It'll just be the bank. Dad said ignore it. The ringing stops.

Oh.

High in the trees, birds' songs are falling from their mouths. Seeds crackle out of leaves, blow to the ground. The phone rings again. Stops. Amy slaps her leg. She scratches. I hope you don't go.

Silence.

Federico.

She's interrupted by a flying plate. If they could see in slow motion they'd see the plate, bread and butter size, hit the window from inside the studio, glass splinter into a star, then crack open as the plate forces its way out onto the ground outside. Amy and Federico sit up fast and he wants to say, The sky is falling. Another plate flies, smashes. Then another, and another. A cup. A jug. A bowl. Crockery swings through the air. Shiny vessels explode on the lawn. Every bird, every seed stops in midair, pulled in by the spectacle. Then nothing.

Amy holds her breath like she's underwater. Then she kicks, fast to the top, breath bursts out of her. Seeds drop to the grass. Then Tom appears, stands in the doorframe of the studio, big hands loose at his sides. He looks like he's sleepwalking. He places his palms hard page 119against either side of the frame and pushes his body away and out into daylight. Eyes on the distance, he walks very slowly over the lawn and past them. Doesn't say a word.