by Lynn, JB
“Follow me, everyone,” Megan called and began marching toward the nearest building. Literally marching, like she was a general in charge of an army of students.
Cam, who was standing at the middle of the line, turned to look back at me before shaking her head.
I bet if there was anyone who’d bail me out of jail for attacking Megan, it would be my buddy Cam.
While our school bus full of kids started in one direction, I noticed that a bus from another school had arrived and the students were disembarking. Apparently that school hadn’t sent out the “class mom” memo since all of the chaperones were men in dark suits. They hadn’t gotten the memo about wearing coats because it was cold. They seemed to be corralling their group with even more stringent expectations than Megan.
One guy, with a cleft chin, stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, scowling. He kept looking at his watch.
I wondered what his deal was, but only for a moment, because a horrible groaning and shrieking noise filled the air.
Everyone turned toward the noise to witness a giant, bubblegum-colored Winnebago shudder to a stop at the edge of the parking lot.
We all watched with morbid fascination as the humongous pink vehicle inched forward a bit and then the gears ground loudly as it slightly changed direction.
The men in suits chuckled at the driver’s lack of skills.
“Women drivers,” the cleft chin mocked. “Amazing they get licenses.”
The blatant sexism annoyed me and I shot the man an angry look, but he was oblivious to my disdain.
The gears of the camper made more horrible noises.
The kids all covered their ears.
The men outright laughed at the hapless driver’s struggles.
“Hey, Cam,” I yelled up the line. “Tell Megan to hold up a minute.”
My spiky-haired pal’s head bobbed up and down.
“Stay here,” I ordered Katie and the rest of the kids in my care. I jogged toward the pink blob, uncomfortably aware that now all eyes were on me.
“Sensitive skin!” God bellowed as my bouncing breasts jostled him in his hiding place in my bra. “No running.”
“Man up!” I panted, pissed off at the entire male gender of the animal kingdom.
I was out of breath by the time I reached my target. Once again, I realized I should take up running instead of huffing and puffing my way through daily life. It was a skill that could keep me alive in my job. The only problem was that I just had no desire to actually do it.
As I neared the vehicle, I saw that the dark-haired driver was resting her head on the steering wheel, oblivious of my arrival.
“Hey!” I yelled.
Her head jerked up. She stared at me wide-eyed, startled by my presence.
“Can I help you park?” I called out.
“I’ve seen you park,” God groused from my chest. “You’re not all that good at it.”
The driver lowered her window. “What?”
“I asked if you want some help parking.”
“Can you drive one of these things?” she asked hopefully.
I shook my head. “No, but maybe I could help direct you.”
She glanced at the crowd of people across the parking lot who were all staring at us. “They’re laughing at me, aren’t they?”
“Just the men,” I confirmed gently.
She grimaced. “Men.”
“Ignore them,” I told her. “The women are pulling for you and I’m here to support you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Why?” I parroted.
“Why would you want to help me?”
“She can’t help herself,” God drawled. “She’s drawn to trouble like flies to flypaper.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and she looked at me strangely.
Most people do when my chest seems to spontaneously squeak.
“Sisterhood,” I answered quickly, hoping to cover the lizard’s squeaking. “What seems to be the problem?”
“I can’t see the lines from up here,” she admitted.
“We’ll get you in there,” I pledged. “You can pull up there.” I pointed to the next row. Hurrying toward the spot I’d indicated, I muttered to God, “Are you incapable of staying silent?”
“I was quiet until you bruised my sensitive skin,” he reminded me.
Turning around, I waved the driver forward. Doing a combination of moves learned from those people that direct airplanes on tarmacs and my best Charades skills, we managed to get her parked with a minimum of grinding gears.
Katie’s class, no doubt egged on by Cam, cheered our success from across the lot.
I waved and gave the kids a big thumbs-up.
“Thank you,” the driver called as she put the pink monster into park.
“You’re welcome.” Giving her a quick wave, I hurried back to the waiting kids.
Megan glared at me as I approached. I met her gaze steadily, daring her to say anything.
She blew her whistle and started her silly marching again.
Our kids all fell into line, though none of them marched, more like they skipped or strolled or shuffled. Katie and her friend, Sindhu, a soft-spoken girl with an easy smile, followed everyone else. I took up the rear, keeping an eye on the three boys I’d mentally dubbed Larry, Curly, and Moe (mostly because the one kid’s name really was Larry and one had a mane of curls).
Everyone who entered had their hand stamped with a replica of the Liberty Bell, which made no sense, considering the bell is in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, not the northwest suburbs of New Jersey.
The attendant who stamped my hand, a woman who looked old enough to have hung out with George Washington, smeared my stamp. “Looks like you’ve got a guardian angel.”
I looked around to see who she was talking about, hoping that Angel or Zeke had decided to show up to lend a hand, but didn’t see any familiar faces. I looked back down at the inkblot and could kind of, if I squinted and tilted my head, see a sort of angel-ish figure.
Megan blew her whistle again.
I flinched.
“This way to the Meeting Hall, children.”
I looked at the old building we were headed toward, and formed the opinion that about all it would be good for was kindling. An opinion that grew stronger as we sat on hard, long, narrow wooden benches, listening to a man, dressed in a Continental soldier costume, tell the kids all about how the army had been forced to battle dangers like frostbite through the harsh winter.
Considering it felt like my ass had frozen to the bench, I sympathized with the long-dead soldiers.
Finally, when he was done, we all stood up to leave.
“Warning, warning,” God, who’d clambered up onto my shoulder so that he could watch the boring, ass-freezing presentation, whispered in my ear. “Trouble at nine o’clock.”
I subtly turned my head to the right to find out what he was going on about.
“Nine o’clock, not three o’clock, you time-challenged imbecile,” he whisper shrieked.
Thankfully no one else could hear him since the entire class of kids all seemed to be talking at once.
I pivoted left.
That’s when I noticed a familiar face.
But he was no guardian angel.
Chapter Two
A kindly looking old man with a white beard and a big belly stood at the back of the room watching us.
He smiled and offered a small nod when my gaze met his.
I did not smile back. Instead, I reached down and grabbed Katie’s hand, preparing to bolt in the opposite direction despite the droning leadership commands being given by Megan.
“Don’t attract attention,” God coached in my ear. “Take a deep breath.”
Suddenly, despite the fact that he’d already called me an imbecile and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet, I was grateful he’d come along. Apparently I was going to need more support than I realized during this outing.
I squeezed Kati
e’s hand when she looked up at me inquiringly and grinned and winked at her, not wanting to cause any alarm.
She smiled back.
Dropping her hand, I stepped away from the kids for a little privacy.
“It can’t be him,” I murmured. The man looked just like my father, but I knew he was in police custody for a string of strange heists, and maybe for kidnapping my mother from the mental hospital where she resides, though I didn’t doubt she’d gone along willingly.
“And yet…” God murmured, clearly just as confused as me.
“His bruises wouldn’t have faded that completely yet,” I whispered.
My dad may do a lot of things wrong, but he loved my mother and when a couple of goons had shown up to abduct her from the nuthouse, Dad had stopped them…and he’d gotten the crap beaten out of him for his trouble.
“Makeup?” the lizard asked. “They can make all kinds of imperfections disappear through the application of the right kind of makeup. Airbrushing works miracles. Haven’t you seen any of the amazing products now offered?”
“Have you been watching infomercials?” I asked suspiciously.
I moved back closer to Katie.
I could feel the man’s eyes on me, but I made a point of focusing on the kids and fussing at the Three Stooges. As I nagged them about their behavior, I realized I had more of Aunt Susan in me than I’d realized. Still, her tricks worked, and the three boys fell into line as we filed out of the building.
Megan marched us to the next building like a field marshal leading a marching band down a street during a parade. She was missing the high hat, but she had her whistle and waved the long umbrella like it was a freaking baton.
“Watch him and tell me what he’s doing,” I whispered to the lizard on my shoulder as I dropped back so that I was the last person in line.
“Don’t worry,” he pledged. “I’ve got your six.”
“What does that even mean?” I muttered.
“It means I’ve got your back. It’s a saying fighter pilots used in World War 1 referencing the back of a plane, which is at six o’clock. But I forgot, you’ve got time-telling issues,” he finished snarkily.
The next building proved to be the blacksmith’s shop, which was filled with old, rusty tools and a guy with a bushy, almost fake-looking mustache and tattooed wrists, who either was really eager to get out of there, or hyped up on some medication that made him talk faster than the speed of light. Either way, I was grateful that his disjointed, and I suspected historically inaccurate, little spiel, complete with an equally fast, if slightly spastic, demonstration of some of the blacksmithing tools, was over quickly.
“Isn’t this fun, boys and girls?” Megan called out when he was done.
“No,” I thought silently. “It’s torture.”
I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t enamored with the day. Megan was bombarded with a chorus of variations of “I’m cold.” “I’m bored.” And “I’ve got to pee.”
Megan frowned.
“I’ve really got to pee,” one of the little boys closest to her whined loudly, grabbing the front of his pants and performing the universal “I need a bathroom now” dance.
“Fine. Everyone who needs to use the restroom can go with Miss Maggie. Everyone else come with me.” Megan marched away.
“And me!” Cam yelled out, reminding our fearless leader that she was an adult chaperone who wasn’t to be ignored.
Half the students lock-stepped behind Megan. The rest of the kids shuffled in my direction, looking to me expectantly.
“I don’t know where the bathroom is,” I called out, my voice squeaking with panic.
Neither Cam nor Megan indicated they heard me. They just kept moving farther away.
Desperate, I looked to the blacksmith. “Where are the restrooms?”
He glanced around furtively and then shrugged.
“Bathrooms?” I tried again, figuring if the guy worked there, he had to know where they were.
“I don’t know, lady.”
“How the he—”
“Language!” God boomed in my ear.
I flinched.
“No swearing around the impressionable young minds,” the lizard lectured.
The kids began to point and giggle at the squeaking lizard perched on my shoulder.
Ignoring them, I glared at the blacksmith. “How do you not know where the restrooms are?”
He glared back, but remained defiantly silent.
“I could show you,” an unfamiliar male voice offered.
“It’s him,” God whispered.
I turned slowly in the direction of the man who looked like my father.
He smiled benevolently.
My dad did that too…sometimes just before he stole my lunch money to buy a “sure thing” exacta ticket at the racetrack.
“They look like they have to go,” the man said, looking past me to the group of children uncomfortably shifting their weight from one side to the other.
“Where is it?” I managed to ask.
“Follow me.” The man lumbered away.
The kids quickly followed him.
Making a mental note to complain to the management that the blacksmith was the most unhelpful employee ever, I grabbed Katie’s hand. I brought up the rear, feeling like I was following the Pied Piper to my doom. But what choice did I have? If Megan found out I hadn’t been able to do something as simple as locate a restroom, I’d never be allowed to participate in Katie’s class again.
So the chattering, shuffling kids followed the man down the street and I followed behind wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
“This is not the best plan you’ve ever come up with,” God whispered.
“I know that,” I muttered.
The entire group had to stop at the intersection, while a man in a suit held up traffic to allow the students from the other school to continue on their way.
“I bet they could find the bathroom,” God whispered in my ear.
I ignored him, keeping all my attention on our impromptu tour leader.
True to his word, once the traffic jam had cleared, the man led us to the restroom.
The kids hurried toward the entrance.
“You need to get a head count,” God suggested.
“Stop,” I yelled in my most authoritative voice.
Miraculously, they all listened.
“Straight line,” I ordered.
Again they complied.
I counted them. Twice. Twelve kids. Seven girls and five boys. “Everyone grab a buddy that’s the same sex.”
The boys tittered over the word sex.
“Boys with boys. Girls with girls,” I amended.
That left me with a leftover boy and a leftover girl. The boy was easy. “You stay with your friends,” I ordered Larry.
He grinned mischievously and I worried I’d just made a major mistake. I imagined getting a complaint that the little hellions would cover the entire building in toilet paper in thirty seconds flat. Still, it wasn’t like I could follow them inside to stop them.
“You stay with Katie and Sindhu,” I told the odd girl out.
She made a face, but nodded her understanding.
“Okay, wash your hands when you’re done,” I ordered.
They all rushed inside, including Katie, leaving me alone with my dad’s doppelganger.
“Thank you,” I said grudgingly, fighting the urge to ask him who he was.
“My pleasure. Quite a handful.”
“They’re good kids.” I defended them automatically even though I didn’t disagree with his assessment.
“If you go that way,” he pointed down the street, “you’ll be able to catch up with the rest of your group.” With a brief nod, he turned on his heel and walked away in the opposite direction.
“What was that about?” God asked, voicing the very thought in my head.
Before we could discuss it, the first pair of boys tumbled out of the restroom,
bent over with laughter.
“Larry farted,” one boy announced with a cackle.
“Oh.” I’d grown up with three sisters, so I really had no idea how to respond to a little boy.
