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My brother was talking too, maybe he was yelling at me. I don’t even know. I wasn’t hearing to his noise. All I could tell was Dad was holding me. His low voice helps to calm me, the sound, not the words. I don’t know what words he used. Finally, Dad got me into the kitchen eating breakfast. He gave me Frosty Os, so I ate. Sometimes I had 7 Frosty Os in my spoon, sometimes I had 11, a few times I had 13. The Frosty Os are best when you put a prime number in your mouth all at once. Most foods are like that. I try to eat in prime number groups whenever I can, which is mostly. Sandwiches can be a problem, and pizza. I like burgers and pizza, but I can’t eat 2 of them. So for burgers and other sandwiches I count how many bites. That’s easier with small burgers. With bigger ones, the prime numbers are farther apart like either 31 or 37. For pizza, Dad cuts them into either 7 or 11 or even 13 slices. The pizza guy at Murphy’s Roadhouse Pizza will do the same thing, because he likes me. But. Then she got a muddled look. "Where is my whip? I seem to have misplaced my whip."I pulled her for awhile, but then I dropped the rope and walked back. I stopped and stared at her."What?" Time for you to pull me, slave."And I made her, long enough for her to know I wasn't kidding. We switched again. At the long climb up the backside of the Hill, Joy got off and joined me at the tow rope. Our trudge up was weirdly quiet. Our boots made their crunching noises in the snow, and we talked back and forth, but otherwise all around us there was just a bird in a tree pretty far away singing a solo complaint about how much the cold sucked.The bird got almost annoying. I remarked, "That's what it sounds like when you're too stupid to build a house with a furnace, and yet too proud to just fly south."Joy slapped my padded shoulder. "You're funny!"The really weird thing was when we gained the summit, and found it empty, windswept and utterly forlorn. I could tell by looking at Joy that she was as.
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