“Gilbert Bronson Martin!” Bruno stooped to pick them up. There was no answering shout and Bruno had a stab of unease.
It may not have been much of a surprise, but itwasa bit of a backslide, because Gil had been getting really good at taking his clothing with him since he started kindergarten. And it wasn’t like Gil not to answer when Bruno called, no matter how much trouble he was getting himself into.
Which meant…?
Bruno closed his eyes and listened to a thread of agitation, letting it lead him down the hallway, past the door to his room, and then past Gil’s.
The hall closet at the end was cracked open, and sure enough, there was a leathery ball under the bottom shelf, in with the towels and sheets.
Bruno nudged it with his foot. “Hey. I found you! I didn’t know we were playing hide and seek.”
Gil shifted back into a little boy, but didn’t get out of the closet. He was still small enough to fit sitting underneath the shelf, but he wouldn’t be for long.
“What’s wrong, pup?” Bruno crouched down beside Gil, who had his arms wrapped around his knees, almost as much in a ball as he had been as an armadillo.
“They said I had LESPERY.”
Bruno had no idea whatlesperywas. “At Kindergarten?”
“No, TINY PAWS. Because I’m an ARMADILLO. No one would touch me.”
Oh. Bruno knew what he meant, then. Bruno knew because he’d been a kid who could turn into an armadillo. And he’d grown up in rural Texas, where there was only one kind of armadillo, and everyone knew why you shouldn’t touch them. “Leprosy.”
“THAT’S WHAT I SAID. LESPERY.”
“Kiddo, we’rethree-bandedarmadillos. We can’t carry leprosy.”
“Are you SURE?” Gil’s big dark eyes were bright with unshed tears, his eyelashes quivering.
“Positive. Cross my heart.”
“Hope to DIE?”
“Hope to die,” Bruno promised.
“DON’T DIE!” Gil wailed, with all the logic of a five-year-old.
Bruno recognized the trap he’d walked into as he scooped Gil into his arms. “I’m not going to die,” he fibbed, because the whole truth was too complicated. Bruno knew the danger of lies of convenience all too well, but he didn’t want to have to explain general mortality to a five-year-old. He wasn’t going to dienow, at least.
“Do you know what leprosy even is?” Bruno asked, standing with Gil and bouncing him. He’d be too big to bounce, soon enough.
Gil shook his head against Bruno’s shoulder, still snuffling. “No.”
“It’s a disease that makes your skin fall off, like a zombie.”
That got Gil’s attention. “Like a ZOMBIE?”
“Like a zombie butnotdead,” Bruno said.
Gil considered this. “Could I have a LITTLE lespery?”
“Sorry, pup. Onlynine-bandedarmadillos can carry leprosy.”
Gil pouted. “They get MORE BANDS, too.”
“But they can’t make perfect balls like you and I can,” Bruno reminded him. “Only three-banded armadillos can do that.”
“I’m a really great ball,” Gil said, satisfied.