Page 9 of Bear’s House

"Night night, little bro," he said.

"Night, JJ," I said, my pacifier still in my mouth, my words coming out a little muffled and soft.

Daddy went around the whole bed and kissed each of us, then settled back into his spot and pulled the covers over.

"Mikey, can you get the light, sweetheart?"

I stretched my arm out and pressed the switch on the wall.

The light went out.

And we all finally went to sleep.

Chapter 5. Sawyer

Sunday disappeared way too fast. The alarm went off before any of us were ready — including Daddy.

JJ, who was on the other side of Daddy in the big bed, shouted without even opening his eyes:

"Turn that thing off."

Daddy sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. Monday. Six-thirty, same as every weekday.

Mikey, who was usually the most obedient and well-behaved of all of us, had exactly one weakness: early mornings. The second the alarm went off, he burrowed deeper under the covers and shoved his head under the pillow, as if that was somehow going to make Monday stop happening. JJ was barely any better. I sat up first, because someone had to set an example for those two.

"All right, boys," Daddy said, getting to his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. "Quick showers and get dressed. I'll pick out your clothes, Mikey. And yours too, JJ."

"No, I want to choose my own outfit," JJ said immediately.

Even though he was the second youngest in our dynamic, with only Mikey younger than him, JJ loved pretending he was a big boy. And he loved getting corrected by Daddy for it even more, whether he admitted that or not.

Daddy looked at him. Just the look. Nothing else needed.

JJ went quiet.

We got up.

Which is to say: I got up. Mikey made a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh and pulled the blanket tighter around himself like it was going to protect him from Monday. JJ put his pillow over his face and went completely still, as if becoming invisible was a valid strategy. Daddy stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, looking at the two of them with his infinite patience.

"Mikey," he said, gentle but firm.

A small hand emerged from under the blanket and groped blindly at the air, as if reaching for something to hold onto. It found nothing and retreated.

"Michael."

The blanket moved. Mikey's face appeared, his black hair completely flattened on one side, green eyes barely open, looking at Daddy with an expression of pure soft tragedy, like a very small animal being asked to do something unreasonable.

"Good morning, baby," Daddy said, and held out his hand.

Mikey took it and let himself be gently pulled upright. He sat on the edge of the bed blinking slowly, still wrapped in the blanket like a cocoon, his feet dangling. He wasn't awake. He was just upright.

Then Daddy looked at JJ, who still had the pillow over his face and hadn't moved a single muscle.

"JJ."

Nothing.

"James Joseph." A pause, and then, very quietly: "Don't make me get the belt before breakfast."