At dinner, the twins and Elsie sat together at one end of the table. Calvin took his place on the other side, beside the empty chair where his older brother, Alfie, usually sat. There were two more empty chairs at either end of the table. His father would sit at the end near Elise and Alfie, his mother beside Calvin and the twins.

  Plates and forks were already set, knives aligned just so. Linen napkins lay folded tight. A bowl of potatoes steamed at the center, and beside it a loaf of bread that would be eaten only by Pa. Calvin knew better than to reach for it.

  “Did you see the horses out there?” asked one of the twins.

  “No,” Calvin said. “Just the Lancasters’ sheep.”

  “Heavenfield’s horses are famous,” one of the twins said.

  “They always win races,” the other added.

  “Havenfield,” Calvin corrected.

  Elsie leaned forward. “I wish we could own one,” she said, almost whispering.

  “Me too,” Calvin said.

  She glanced at him. “I didn’t know you liked horses, Calvin.”

  “I don’t,” he said. “But if we had a racehorse, it’d mean we were rich. Like the Havenfields.”

  “Horses are scary,” said one of the twins.

  “If we owned the black sheep, we’d be rich like the Lancasters,” shouted the other.

  “And if I had a bowler hat and a black cane, I’d be rich like Charlie Chaplin,” a voice said as it entered the dining room through the swing door.

  Everyone laughed except Calvin.

  Like Elsie and the twins, Alfie was as tall as father, but blond and blue–eyed like the others. He drifted over to the twins first, calling each of them by the wrong name until they shouted corrections, laughing. He leaned down and gave Elsie a quick peck on the cheek, then slid into the chair beside Calvin.

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  “Where’d you run off to this time?” Alfie said. “Peeping in the neighbors’ windows like a pervert?”

  “No,” Calvin said.

  “What’s a pervert?” one of the twins asked.

  “It’s what Calvin is,” Alfie said.

  “Stop it,” Calvin said.

  “Stop it,” Alfie mocked. “Big baby.”

  “Wah, wah, wah,” one of the twins added.

  “Shut up!” Calvin shouted across the table.

  “Language,” Ma said as she entered the room, carrying a roasted chicken on a round platter. “It’s Sunday.”

  Her tone was gentle, but the reprimand landed all the same.

  “What about Sunday?” his father said, entering the room.

  The air shifted. Spines straightened. Smiles thinned to nothing as Pa crossed the room in his dark-gray three-piece. Chairs scraped softly. Ma remained standing beside her seat, still as a marker, watching him take his place.

  “Just reminding them to be mindful,” Ma replied, sitting down.

  Pa lifted a napkin from his plate and laid it across his lap, then held out his hands. One by one, the twins and Elsie reached for them. Calvin joined last. Heads bowed.

  “Bless us, O Lord…” his father began.

  Alfie squeezed Calvin’s hand.

  At first it was light. Then harder. Fingers digging in, tightening. Calvin felt nails digging into the web of his thumb, his jaw clenched. He held it as long as he could.

  “Ouch!” Calvin yanked his hand free and stood. “Stop!”

  “Calvin,” both his parents said at once.

  “Alfie was squeezing my hand,” Calvin said.

  “That’s a lie,” Alfie said easily.

  “It is not!”

  “You’re just a big baby,” said Alfie, mouth the word pervert and turning his head so Pa couldn't see him.

  “Stop it!” Calvin snapped. “You stupid little shit.”

  A sharp gasp cut through the room.

  The scrape of his Pa’s chair was the only sound that followed.

  Two quick steps and his strong hand slapped across Calvin’s face.

  Sound vanished.

  The room rang hollow, like a bell struck too close. Calvin staggered, eyes watering, breath caught somewhere behind his ribs.

  He wanted to cry, but pressed his lips together.

  Everyone looked away, everyone except the twins, who were still too young to know when not to stare.

  “Calvin,” said Pa, “Look at me!”

  Calvin did, and seeing Pa was like looking forward in time, into something waiting for him, something he couldn’t outrun. He hated it.

  “Upstairs. Now. You get no dinner.”

  Calvin turned away. Through the swing door, down the short hallway. He passed the front of the store where sewing tables sat crowded with fabric and mannequins. He took the stairs two at a time and didn’t look back.