At seven the next evening, PopCorn pushes open the front door of Camelottery. "Greetings, earthlings!" Sumac's behind the grandfather, looking at the worn-down heels of his boots. Limbs flailing, knocking a long mirror askew, Aspen gets to PopCorn first and jumps to hang around his neck. "You brung presents?" asks Brian, behind her. PopCorn says, "Ah..." Sumac's face falls. They completely forgot. "Where the presents?" demands Brian. "I've got half a candy necklace," Sumac offers. "We've brought my dad," says PopCorn, too brightly, gesturing toward the old man in a ta-dah way. "Everybody, this is Iain. Your fourth grandfather." Brian stares balefully. "That not a present. Where his eyebrows?" Sumac tries to distract her with the candy necklace. Brian scowls but puts it around her neck. "Where is they?" she asks again. "They got burned off in the fire," Sumac whispers in her ear, because it's a family rule that there are no stupid questions. PopCorn grabs Aspen's hands and examines them. "Dare I ask why your index fingers are stuck to your thumbs?" "They're finger-thumbs," Aspen tells him. "Thingers. No, fumbs!" "We're in the middle of an experiment," explains MaxiMum as she comes into the hall. "Sorry I can't shake hands, Iain. It takes an hour or two for the oils in the skin to loosen the superglue." "Welcome, welcome," cries CardaMom, hurrying downstairs wearing Oak on her shoulders. "PapaDum," she calls toward the Mess, "stop chopping onions, they're here." The grandfather looks from one face to the next, and suddenly Sumac is glad the three eldest kids are still away at camp, because compared with Faro, Yukon, the Lotterys are looking like a crowd already. Excerpted from The Lotterys Plus One by Emma Donoghue All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
