The Fallout Read Online Free

he was.” He lifted a hand. “But he built this place from scratch. He started so many charities that have helped so many people.”
    “Seriously?” I felt my face turn red. “You’re defending him? That’s ridiculous.”
    Eddy looked at the floor and didn’t say anything for a second. Then he looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “I lost my father when I was nine. You didn’t. You had him for six more years. So you don’t get to tell me what I can or can’t say about him.”
    “But he—”
    “What? He what? Kept you guys down there? Yeah. I know. I hear about it all the time. I live it all the time. Every frickin’ day. I got my family back, but…” He paused for a second. “What exactly did I get? A bunch of people trying to get over something that happened to them that I wasn’t a part of. You tell me Dad went nuts, did all this. But that’s not the father I remember.” He shook his head. “You don’t get it. I lost everything when I was nine. Everything! And now I have most of it back. But it’s not the same.” He stopped and looked down at the floor. “I have to adjust, too.”
    “Eddy, I—”
    He held up a hand. “You need to let me do it in my own way. I lost my dad when he was still my hero. So that’s what he’s been the last six years whenever I’ve thought about him. My hero.” He shook his head. “You’re not going to change that kind of thinking so fast.”
    None of that had ever crossed my mind. That the last time Eddy saw our father, Dad still towered over him in more ways than one, still seemed someone to look up to. Eddy hadn’t known the father of the past six years. The man I knew, who slowly went mad, and tried to take his family with him.
    I would have thought Eddy would be on my side. That he would start thinking differently about our father based solely on what I told him about the past six years. It would take longer for him to see the truth, and I needed to give him the time.
    I put my hand on my brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of how it would make you feel.” But the truth was, I couldn’t.
    “I know.” He sighed. “We’d better go back in.”
    I opened the door and we took our seats again.
    “Here they are.” The president took out a YK tablet and tapped it with one long red fingernail. “I’ll set up a date for them to come in and decide what they want to do.” She looked up. “I’ll have the director of charitable contributions clear her schedule for tomorrow morning. Will that do?”
    Mom looked at me and Eddy. We both nodded, and she said, “Yes.”
    There were a few more things to discuss, but Eddy leaned over to me and whispered, “Do you even know what you want to do here?”
    I started to speak, but then had to pause. Other than getting rid of Phil and making sure Mom was listened to, what did I want?
    I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I had no idea.
    *   *   *
    That night we all sat around the dining-room table eating Mexican food. Except for Cara, seated next to me, banging her spoon on the table, none of us said anything. There was only the clinking of silver on china as we devoured Els’s chicken-and-cheese enchiladas with green sauce.
    I dumped another spoonful of guacamole on top of mine, then reached for the crystal bowl of sour cream.
    Food was still a bit overwhelming for us all. In the Compound, we’d gotten so used to eating the dregs: lame nourishment that wouldn’t have even made the cut for a typical food pyramid.
    Stale, broken pasta.
    Limp, nearly flavorless produce from the flagging hydroponics.
    Canned and boxed goods well past their prime.
    Meat had been but a memory, something I’d last eaten when I was thirteen; dairy products had disappeared long before that.
    The tastes and textures we had missed for so long became something to focus on. Except for the little kids making noise, our meals tended to be silent as we all dug in, savoring the fresh flavors. Only when everyone was full did