Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

stand there gawking. It’s unbecoming. Get your butt over here and let me look
at you.”
Wallace went.
“All right?” Hugo asked as Wallace stopped awkwardly next to Nelson’s
chair.
“I have no idea,” Wallace said.
Hugo beamed at him as if Wallace had said something profound. “That’s
wonderful.”
Wallace blinked. “It is?”
“Very. Not knowing is better than pretending to know.”
“If you say so,” Wallace muttered.
Hugo grinned. “I do. Hang out here with Grandad for me, okay? I’ll be
back in a little bit.”
He headed for the kitchen before Wallace could ask where he was going.
Nelson craned his neck around the chair, waiting for the kitchen doors to
swing shut before he looked at Wallace. “They’re eating,” he whispered as if
revealing a great secret.
Wallace looked down at him. “What?” But now that Nelson had
mentioned it, he could smell it, the scents filling his nose. Meatloaf? Yes,
meatloaf. Roasted broccoli on the side.
“Supper,” Nelson said. “They don’t eat in front of us. It’s rude.”
“It is?” He grimaced. “Do they talk with their mouths full of food?”
Nelson rolled his eyes. “They don’t eat in front of us because we can’t
eat. Hugo thinks it’s like dangling a bone in front of a dog but then taking it
away.”
Apollo’s ears quirked at the word bone. He stood and began to nose
Nelson’s knees as if he thought Nelson had a treat to offer him. Nelson
scratched between his ears instead.
“We can’t … eat?” Wallace said.
Nelson glanced at him. “Are you hungry?”
No, he wasn’t. He hadn’t even thought about eating, even when the scones
had come out of the oven that morning. They’d smelled delicious, and he
knew they’d be light and fluffy, melting on his tongue, but it was almost an
afterthought. “We can’t eat,” he said.
“Nope.”
“We can’t sleep.”