He looks silently at his mother as she berates him. **I should know better, I should. I am older, I should behave my age. Fine, I'll say it.** Defiantly, he mumbles, "I'm sorry Nora," the words all run together into a single sound. Dinner is a quiet affair. Plastic forks scrape paper plates and cardboard cartons, but no words or laughter fly from mouth to ear. He eats his food glumly, slipping Luna as much as he dares.
Luna's urgent barking shatters his melancholy. He can see her trembling. "Shhh quiet, girl. It's ok," he soothes, but she is unresponsive. He looks towards the doorway, but there's nothing there. "Shh, quiet, shh," he whispers, and she begins to calm. Nora says something rude, and his mother quiets her, but he hardly cares. **This is too creepy. I read about this kind of thing.** He glances nervously at the doorway, and then back at Luna. He leaves most of his dinner behind when they go to his room.