Matthew Garner Character Analysis

And somehow, after that, he didn’t mind hiding so much anymore. Who wanted to meet strangers, anyway? Who wanted to go to school […]? He was special. He was secret. He belonged at home—home, where his mother always let him have the first piece of apple pie because he was there and the other boys were away. […] Home, where the backyard always beckoned, always safe and protected by the house and the barn and the woods.

Until they took the woods away.

She jerked. “—but I cleaned that chicken al—oh. Sorry, Luke. You need tucking in, don’t you?”

She fluffed his pillow, smoothed his sheet.

Luke sat up. “That’s okay, Mother. I’m getting too old for this any”—he swallowed a lump in his throat—“anyway. I bet you weren’t still tucking Matthew or Mark in when they were twelve.”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Then I don’t need it, either.”

“Okay,” she said.

She kissed his forehead, anyhow, then turned out the light. Luke turned his face to the wall until she left.

Luke felt strange about the joke, anyway. Of course he’d never poison anyone, but—if something happened to Matthew or Mark, would Luke have to hide anymore? Would he become the public second son, free to go to town and to school and everywhere else that Matthew and Mark went? Could his parents find some way to explain a “new” child already twelve years old?

It wasn’t something Luke could ask. He felt guilty just thinking about it.

“But you’re a third child, too,” Luke protested. “A shadow child. Right?”

He suddenly felt like it might be easy to cry, if he let himself. All his life, he’d been told he couldn’t do everything Matthew and Mark did because he was the third child. But if Jen could go about freely, it didn’t make sense. Had his parents lied?

“Don’t you have to hide?” he asked.

“Sure,” Jen said. “Mostly. But my parents are very good at bribery. And so am I.”

And somehow, after that, he didn’t mind hiding so much anymore. Who wanted to meet strangers, anyway? Who wanted to go to school […]? He was special. He was secret. He belonged at home—home, where his mother always let him have the first piece of apple pie because he was there and the other boys were away. […] Home, where the backyard always beckoned, always safe and protected by the house and the barn and the woods.

Until they took the woods away.

She jerked. “—but I cleaned that chicken al—oh. Sorry, Luke. You need tucking in, don’t you?”

She fluffed his pillow, smoothed his sheet.

Luke sat up. “That’s okay, Mother. I’m getting too old for this any”—he swallowed a lump in his throat—“anyway. I bet you weren’t still tucking Matthew or Mark in when they were twelve.”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Then I don’t need it, either.”

“Okay,” she said.

She kissed his forehead, anyhow, then turned out the light. Luke turned his face to the wall until she left.

Luke felt strange about the joke, anyway. Of course he’d never poison anyone, but—if something happened to Matthew or Mark, would Luke have to hide anymore? Would he become the public second son, free to go to town and to school and everywhere else that Matthew and Mark went? Could his parents find some way to explain a “new” child already twelve years old?

It wasn’t something Luke could ask. He felt guilty just thinking about it.

“But you’re a third child, too,” Luke protested. “A shadow child. Right?”

He suddenly felt like it might be easy to cry, if he let himself. All his life, he’d been told he couldn’t do everything Matthew and Mark did because he was the third child. But if Jen could go about freely, it didn’t make sense. Had his parents lied?

“Don’t you have to hide?” he asked.

“Sure,” Jen said. “Mostly. But my parents are very good at bribery. And so am I.”