HARDCORE: Storm MC(171)

“Thank you. You’re too kind.” She giggled, then went back to the science lesson. We’d already had a science lesson that weekend, of course. I wondered what it would be like to homeschool a child. I guessed it would be like that, finding ways to bring science into everyday life, along with math and history and all the other subjects. It was an exhausting thought—home was home, work was work. I didn’t know how homeschooling parents did it.



Once I was confident my little pupil was all caught up—it didn’t take long, not that I expected it to—we sat down to a game of checkers.



“How long will I live here?” Gigi asked at one point. I had known something was on her mind—she was quieter than usual, though she’d sworn she was okay.



I couldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know, sweetie. Are you unhappy here?” I kept my voice low, wanting to avoid attention.



“No. I like it here. But it’s not the same as living in a house, is it?”



“No, it’s not the same at all.”



“And there are lots of people. They’re nice people, but sometimes I like to be alone.”



“I know what you mean. I like being alone sometimes, too. You know, you could always go to your room if you’re tired of being around people.”



“Yeah, but I can’t go out and play. There’s nowhere to play.” I hadn’t thought about that. There wasn’t even a park anywhere nearby. Meanwhile, at my house, I had a beautiful lawn, a big backyard and a park just a block away. Yet another reason why she would have been better off spending the weekend with me.



“That stinks,” I commiserated. “Well, I’m sure it won’t be forever. You’ll be able to go to a new home soon.”



She was so smart. “A new home? Not my house, with my mommy?” Her chin trembled. Crap. Leave it to me to be the one to drop the ball like that.



“What I meant was you and your mommy might get a new house. I think that’s what she might be doing right now, finding you a new house. Wouldn’t you like that?” I was such a bad liar. She saw right through me. But that was the thing about kids like her—she was used to being lied to, and pretending to believe the lies. She only smiled and nodded, then went back to the game. I stared at the top of her head while she considered her next move, white scalp making a straight line down the middle of two dark pigtails I’d made myself.



She looked so much like her father, it was startling. I was beginning to notice that she even made the same facial expressions as he did. If anybody ever asked me my stance on nature versus nurture, I wouldn’t know what to say. While Rae raised her to be a good kid, so many of her father’s traits shone through in her, it took my breath away.



As though he heard me, Lance entered the room. He saw us playing checkers and smiled, but there was no cheer in that smile. It was tight, distracted. He was glad his daughter was occupied but was too occupied himself to actually care, or come over to see how the game was going. She was a problem being taken care of at the moment. He could move on to the next problem for the time being.



I wondered about him. He managed to make his life look pretty easy, but I was sure it took a lot of mental stamina and toughness to wrangle a group of rough guys like his crew. He always had to be “on,” always presenting a strong front no matter what was going on inside his head.



Like Gigi. I knew the situation with her and Rae had to be tearing him apart. He looked worried, distracted. I wondered how much of it had to do with the ticking clock. He’d promised to let me take her by Sunday night if Rae wasn’t in the picture. I wished I’d gotten a certain time in writing—he might make me wait until one minute before midnight before I was allowed to leave with her. Not that I cared. Getting her out of there was all that mattered to me.



Lost in thought, I hardly noticed when Gigi jumped four of my pieces. “King me!” she said, clapping. I could only shake my head at her, wondering where on Earth her brains came from when neither of her parents seemed exactly to be Nobel Prize winners.



***



That was Sunday afternoon, when Lance was only mildly tense and difficult to be around. By Sunday evening, the tension was almost unbearable.



I knew he felt it, too. He was snippy, irritable—not just with me, but with everybody in the clubhouse. The energy was high, volatile. Like a single spark could set off an inferno. I didn’t want to be around for it when it happened.



I knew why he was acting that way. He remembered the deal we made. And Rae was nowhere to be found, which made Lance increasingly angrier. I thought I heard crashing noises coming from inside his office once or twice. Showing his temper, the big baby.