“Tomorrow. You can and will explain everything in the
morning. Right now, I suggest you go put on some dry clothes
and try to get some sleep.”
My face burns with shame at how nice he’s being about all
this. “Thanks, Frank.”
He waves my words away with a half smile and shuffles back
toward his room. I make my way to mine with a sinking feeling. Mom’s going to kill me when she finds out.
h
Phase One of my Punishment Reduction Plan involves Eddie.
By the time I wake up, it’s past ten, and by now I know Frank has
told Mom what went down last night. The relative quiet coming
from downstairs is a bad sign. They’re talking about me. Waiting
for me to emerge. I need an adorable little boy to soften the blow.
Creeping on tiptoe, I make my way to the playroom first.
Eddie is nowhere to be seen. Not in his room either. That
leaves only two other places: either he’s with Mom and Frank,
or he’s watching cartoons in the den. Hoping for the latter, I
slip downstairs.
Low but tense voices drift in from the dining room. Still talking about me. Clenching my jaw, I edge my way to the den.
Success.
Eddie is sitting crossed-legged on the couch, watching his
favorite cartoon about an orphaned robot alien and his robot
puppy. He looks up as I come in. He’s unreasonably cute. It’s
lucky, really. I had the typical pre-teen issues when Mom got
remarried. Don’t get me wrong, for everyone’s sanity, it was the
right thing for my parents to get divorced, but I definitely had
my when Frank came into the picture. And then Eddie was
born, and slowly I began to realize how we’d work as a family.
So much so, that I can’t imagine life if Frank hadn’t come
along. Eddie is the glue that holds us all together. Smiling, I
plop down at his side.
“Hey, buddy. Can I watch your show with you?”
Eddie points to his chest with a chubby toddler finger. “I be
the robot. You be the puppy.”
“Fair deal.” I nestle beside him, and he pets my hair.
“Good puppy.”
I make my best dog sound and sniff Eddie’s face, which smells
distinctly of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
“That tickles!” he says, laughing.
I give his cheek a quick kiss and then lay my head next to his
little shoulder. “Puppy is nervous. Puppy thinks Mommy Dog
is mad at her.”
Eddie pets my head again. “Don’t worry, Puppy. Mommy
Dog is nice.”
Ah, the safe, easy world of a kid. Almost makes me wish I
could go back to being three again. When things were so simple.
“You okay in there, buddy?”
Mom’s voice makes me sit up, and a moment later, she steps
into the doorway. When she sees me, her arms immediately
cross over her chest. She’s calm but prepared. This isn’t going
to go well for me.
“So, you’re up,” she says. “Have a good sleep?”
I pull my arm around Eddie. “Yep. Just playing a little robot
alien and puppy with my bro.”
“Cassandra. Kindly make your way into the dining room.
We’re going to have a talk.”
“Why can’t we talk in here?” I know they won’t be as hard on
me in front of Eddie.
In response, Mom raises a single eyebrow in that “I mean
business” way. Sighing, I slide from the couch.
“Say good-bye to your sister, Eddie,” I mutter. “Remember
me as I was.”
“Move it, Cass,” Mom says.
I march into the dining room, my head held high like a
martyr being walked to the chopping block.
Frank sips coffee at the table. He casts me a look as I pull up
a chair. A look of sympathy? Apology? It’s too subtle to tell.
As Mom sits down across from me, I brace myself for the full
gamut of parental clichés:
“What on earth were you thinking?” (I wasn’t thinking. Clearly.)
“Didn’t I raise you better than this?” (Apparently not.)
“This is about me not letting you stay the summer with your
father, isn’t it?” (Nope. Way off.)