The Shelf Before the Storm

Macey's toy room was a disaster zone.

Crayons rolled across the carpet. A sock lived under the beanbag. Three puzzle pieces had been missing since February. Nobody talked about February.

The second Macey's footsteps disappeared down the hallway, the shelf above the craft table stirred.

Jude blinked first — his one blue eye and one brown eye adjusting to the afternoon light. Paint crusted the tips of his long brown hair. More paint dotted his cheeks, his knuckles, the collar of his shirt.

"She's gone," he said, his braces catching a glint of sun.

Bonnie stretched. Skylar yawned loud enough to rattle the pencil cup. Eliot dropped off the shelf entirely and landed in a pile of foam stickers.

"Graceful," said Jude.

"I meant to do that," Eliot muttered.

Down on the craft table, four figures hadn't moved yet — but their scissors were already out.

The Parrot Spills Everything

The hairstylist dolls hadn't moved from the craft table — but Gabby was already reading a list out loud.

"Bonnie. Skylar. Eliot." She tapped each name with her finger. "And Jude."

On the shelf above, Jude went stiff.

"She's got a list," Eliot whispered, still sitting in the foam stickers.

"She's always got a list," Bonnie muttered.

Holden — the one in the gray vest — unfolded a paper measuring tape and snapped it flat against the table. Ian was sharpening a tiny pair of scissors with a sound that made Jude's teeth hurt. River stood at the edge of the craft table and cupped both hands around a mouth.

"We can see your feet, Jude."

Jude pulled his feet back fast.

Too late.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

Sitting on top of the pencil cup — the one Eliot had rattled when he yawned — was Macey's toy parrot. Bright green. Plastic beak. Battery-powered.

"JUDE HAS PAINT HAIR," it announced cheerfully. "JUDE HAS PAINT HAIR."

Gabby looked up at the shelf with a slow smile.