Mrs. Everstreet asked me to describe his face in as much detail as I could. I didn't want to say it, but his eyes drew my attention so hard and fast that it was almost as if I didn't notice the other features. She asked me about his hands, too, which I thought odd. There was nothing unusual about them that I could recall.
"I didn't hold hands with him ever," I said when she asked if his palms were soft and smooth.
They were all silent for a moment.
"The Ilks had a son who fits that description," Mr. White said. "Remember that incident in Pittsburgh?"
"Yes, but that was some time ago. I haven't heard anything about them for more than fifty years, I think," Mr. Biggi said. "Tell us exactly what happened last night," he told me.
I was a little hesitant, afraid that they would all see how weak I was, how I had almost been drawn out of my window. When I was finished, they were all quiet for a moment. Then Uncle Biggi looked at Daddy.
