Matty was in a panic, fussing and bustling around the house frantically. A book he had borrowed from his bitch of a fifth grade teacher was soaked, the pages warping into a blooming flower. Damaged beyond repair. He needed to find a way to dry it before it got any worse.

"She's going to fail me," he cried.

"She can't fail you for ruining a book, can she?"

He clawed his fingers into his hair, his eyes wide and wild with desperation. "What am I going to do? What the fuck am I going to do?"

"The grandpa in the Grumpus movie dried his socks in the oven." My childish mind was working overtime. Socks, books, oven, microwave. Same thing, right? "Let's put it in the microwave."

He set the book on the rotating plate. "How long?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. That's a pretty fat book. Five minutes?"

He set the timer. We wandered back to the bedrooms at the back of the house, searching for a distraction that would calm him. We played uno on the floor of his room. "Do you smell that?" I nodded. Someone had a fire going. "Shit, Maddie. The book."

We ran to the kitchen. We could see the flames through the door of the microwave. He opened the door, and I threw a glass of water into the smoky box. We fanned the air, opening the kitchen windows and door to air the place out.

Matt sat down on the floor of the kitchen and buried his face in his hands, rocking back and forth in total silence.

When the smoke cleared, I could see the charred remains of the book. The melted glass of the door, the melted plastic walls inside. The whole microwave was ruined. Damaged beyond repair. And to make matters worse, it was attached to the stove and oven below it, one large piece. The whole damn thing would have to be replaced.

The doorbell rang, and Matt looked up in a panic. I went to see who it was. The driver. I was working on a sequel to Mrs. Grumpus. "I can't go," I told him.

"You have to," he said.

I looked back over my shoulder at Matt, still hunched on the floor. "Go," he muttered.

I did. I shouldn't have. But I did.