by CJ Daly
take care of this, or I’m going to have to notify your father.”
“Yes ma’am. I hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon . . . and thanks
again for bein’ so patient with him,” I added diplomatically.
In mutual worried silence, we headed to the car. Mikey peered up at me,
and there were a couple of fat tears magnifying the love in his eyes. “I’m sowry
I gotted into trouble, Kadee.”
One look at his contrite face and I melted on the spot. “Just please behave yourself from now on! Obey your teacher and quit runnin’ the class, boss
man—you don’t wanna have to stay home with Daddy, do you?”
Mikey vehemently shook his head. “I pwomise I won’t get in twouble no
more, okay Kadee?”
“Okay.” I squeezed him to me. “You know you’re the best boy in the
world, right?”
He beamed at me. “Wight.”
• 138 •
“You know what else? I’m starvin’,” I said, curling his sweaty palm into mine. “Come on, Trouble, let’s go get some ice cream.”
After a quick trip to McDonalds and then to their restroom to clean Mikey’s
face (and to run a brush through my hair), we arrived at Andrew’s school at
exactly five till four. I parked by the front office—two spaces away from a
certain enormous, black SUV.
“Wowee! Kadee, wook at that!” Mikey whooped. “I cwaim it!”
“Yeah . . . would you look at that.” I glanced in the rearview mirror to find
eyes that were the kind of bright that usually induced parents into rummaging
through drawers. And my cheeks looked like I’d just given them a good pinch.
Gah, Katie! Get a grip.
Deep breath in. I had nothing to worry about. Drews and I were in this
together. We had a long discussion last night and decided he was going to
dumb himself down and act bratty. I guess we should add trip every time he
walks now that I knew a physical test was involved. Piece of cake. All he had to do was flub his way through this mentoring program. Who knows? If all
goes wel , Pete Davenport could be packing his bags by the end of the week. Who’s the sucker now?
I tried to squeeze some happy from this thought, but kinda felt more like
puking up the ice cream I just downed.
“Huwry up, Kadee,” Mikey pleaded. “Let’s go get Drewy!”
I inhaled some more dry air then dawdled behind Mikey as he pranced up
the stairs to push the button. We announced ourselves, and the lock popped
open. Tapping our way down the empty third-grade hallway, I tried to focus
on the pigeon-sized insects brightening the halls. Normally, I would stop to
look for Andrew’s carefully crafted masterpiece, but today I had to concentrate
on just holding it together; I was more than a little concerned I would lose it
when I saw Pete standing there with Andrew.
Mrs. Woodward would probably think “it” runs in the family after
already having dealt with my father and hearing rumors about my mother.
She’d surely think an exclusive boarding school would be a better atmosphere
for her favorite prodigy than an unstable home life.
“Which one is it, Kadee?” Mikey’s anxious voice announced our arrival.
There was a door propped open a couple of classrooms down that had
voices spilling out into the hallway followed by laughter. My heart did a
nosedive to my stomach. “Think we’re almost there,” I said self-consciously,
knowing he could hear us since we could hear them.
A low voice, infused with humor, was talking with another higher-pitched
• 139 •
one that sounded way too girly to be Mrs. Woodward’s. I rolled my eyes before entering the open doorway. Everyone quit talking and looked up at
once. I very briefly met his eyes before aiming a smile at Mrs. Woodward
and Andrew.
“Drewy!” Mikey ran over to tackle big brother.
“Hey, Shadow.” Andrew unpeeled Mikey and deposited him on the floor,
where he immediately knocked over some metal bins. After the percussional
crash, I was greeted by a reprimand: “Hey, Kate—you’re late.”
“Yeah, but only by one teensy little minute,” I replied, ruffling Andrew’s
hair. I turned to address his teacher, who was all lip-sticked up today. Glowing,
that would be the word I would use to describe her. “Good afternoon, Mrs.
Woodward. I hope we’re not keepin’ you.”
“Oh, goodness no!” she immediately demurred. “It’s fine. We’ve just been
havin’ so much fun. Haven’t we gentlemen?”
“Oh, good. I’m glad.” My smile didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Katherine, have you had a chance to meet Andrew’s mentor yet?”
I recoiled at the word and had to clear the bitter from my throat before
speaking. “I-I don’t think so.” I faced Pete with a face out-glowing Mrs.
Woodward’s, I’m sure.
He raised an eyebrow at me, one corner of his mouth quirking up—a
particularly cute expression I was growing familiar with.
“Katherine Connelly . . .” Mrs. Woodward enthusiastically made the
introductions, “meet Cadet Peter Davenport, the International Elite Academy
transfer and mentor extraordinaire!”
“That’s kind of a mouthful,” he said, reaching for my hand with a self-
deprecating smile. I fought the urge to wipe my clammy palm on my skirt
before shaking his hand. “Just Pete’s fine. It’s so very nice to formally meet
you, Katherine . . . I’ve heard so much about you.” He smoldered down at me shamelessly.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I managed to croak out, wondering what he
could’ve possibly heard . . . and from whom. I immediately withdrew my hand
from his. “And just Kate, please.” I was going for one-upmanship, but ended
up with passive-aggressive.
“Oh my! You youngsters sure are polite. Makes me have faith in the
world’s youth again.” Mrs. Woodward cluelessly beamed her approval.
Pete and I exchanged glances. His lips twitched, and I had to work hard
not to crack a smile, too. I’m sure he was also remembering our not so polite exchanges the other night. Was it real y just the night before last when it all happened? It seemed like so much had happened in such a short amount of
• 140 •
time. Felt like I was suffering from vertigo . . . Or is that feeling from being in his presence again?
“How did it go today?” I asked Andrew, changing the subject and the
view.“Fine.” Andrew’s standard answer.
“Great.” I used my own standby. “Well, we better get goin’. Grab your
backpack and thank Mrs. Woodward and . . . ah, Cadet Davenport for their
time.”
“Just Pete’s fine,” he reminded me with a smile so shining it almost pierced
through my armor.
I had to catch my breath like I’d been running on a treadmill this whole
time. “Okay then . . . Pete. I, ah, guess we’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“My pleasure. I look forward to it . . . Andy’s a great kid.”
“We think so.” I threw a possessive arm around Andrew’s shoulders,
glancing down at him to read his reaction. (He usually hated that name,
preferring Drew instead.) Andrew was actually staring up at Pete with what
could only be interpreted as admiration. My heart sank like a tank. Oh no!
Not you too, Dr
ews!
Deciding to move it along quickly, I grabbed Mikey’s hand from where it
had wandered over to a winking computer. “Thanks again, Mrs. Woodward.”
“Oh, my pleasure!” She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “I have such
a good feelin’ about this!”
Well that makes one of us I thought sourly, but simply smiled back, tight-
lipped, while using my other hand to steer Andrew out the door—he didn’t
seem in any great hurry to leave.
“Excuse me, Kate,” Pete said, and I glanced over my shoulder. “Tomorrow
I thought I would take Andy to the Learning Center, so you can pick him up
there at 4:30, if that works for you. If not, I’d be happy to drive him home.
I should also have his Mensa scores by then so I’ll be able to share them
with you.”
I physically cringed— Mensa was an IQ test for geniuses, not my eight-
year-old brother. Everything was becoming all too real. “Guess that works
for me,” I let slip through grit teeth. Then whipped my brothers out the door,
where we began walk-running down the hallway.
“Where’s the fire?” said Andrew.
“Can we go pway on the pwayground?” Mikey asked, while banging into
lockers as I half dragged him behind me.
“Not today, buddy.”
“Kadee! Yo’wer goin’ too fast!”
• 141 •
“Hold up, Kate!” Pete called down the hallway, and I tensed up.
Could I pretend I didn’t hear? Both boys automatically stopped and turned
around. Dang! I thought, but my heart skipped a beat or two as I watched
him trot our way. A lock of hair flopped over his forehead. He brushed it
back, beaming at us like we’d just made his day by stopping to wait for him.
Wow. I had to force my eyes away. Avoidance would definitely be the way to go here.
“Hey.” Pete gave me an indecipherable look. “I thought I’d walk you out,
if that’s okay.”
“Sure!” Andrew answered for me.
We formed a tight little quartet as we headed into the front office, where
we were stopped by Mr. Brooks. A few eager pleasantries from the principal
and secretary held us up for a few more minutes. I leaked out a sigh, debating
about whether or not to interrupt their conversation so we could make our
escape.
Pete caught my eye and smiled privately at me as though we were in it
together. After a moment, he interrupted Mr. Brook’s story about his Air Force
days. “It was very nice to meet you both. Everyone has been very welcoming
and helpful, and I really appreciate it. I look forward to seeing you again
tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah sure,” Mr. Brooks blustered, his reddening face finding mine.
“Katie, this is a wonderful opportunity for Andrew. Please tell your father he
made the right decision here.”
“Will do.” No such thing, I thought, moving to push out the door. But Pete
was too fast, reaching out to open it for all of us to walk through. “Thanks,”
I bit out, manners getting the best of me.
As soon as we exited the building, the afternoon sun pelted us, so we all
paused under the small patch of shade provided by the faded-green awning.
An awkward silence seemed to have followed us out the door. Pete just looked
at me, waiting. Andrew followed his lead. Even little Mikey peered up at me
expectantly.
“Uh . . . thanks for walkin’ us out,” I finally said.
Pete just remained silent, staring down at me with a look I decided was a
humor-hurt hybrid. “That’s it? You’re not even going to ask any questions?”
I wasn’t sure what that wounded look was all about (and didn’t much care
I told myself). And I couldn’t exactly speak freely in front of my brothers, and
wasn’t allowed to ask him anything anyway, so wasn’t sure what there was to
say. I relegated myself to shrugging my shoulders.
“What happened to yer eye?” Mikey piped up.
• 142 •
“Mikey!” I burst out.
Pete gave a hearty chuckle at my expense. “Wild animal attack.” He
winked at me, and I scowled back at him.
“What kind of animal?” Mikey persisted.
“Feral cat,” he said around a wicked grin.
I arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure you provoked it.”
Pete just laughed musically in my ear while my brothers’ mouths hung
open. Enquiring minds wanted to know more, so I quickly intervened.
“Mikey, you’re not supposed to ask people personal questions—it’s rude.”
“I’m sowry, Pete.”
He gave an easy laugh, offering up his fist for a bump. “’sall good.”
“We gotta get goin’,” I said, ushering Mikey down the sidewalk and
around the corner to where the cars were parked. Andrew lagged behind to
pepper his mentor with questions about what they were going to do tomorrow
at The Learning Center.
“Can’t tell you,” Pete answered.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s top secret.”
“Aw come on!” Andrew protested.
“Well, I would tell you . . . but then I’d just have to kill you,” Pete teased,
effortlessly winning over my little brother.
Andrew laughed delightedly at such bold words and jumped at Pete
yelling, “Unh-uh!—you’d have to catch me first!” He tore off down the
sidewalk practically leaving track marks, bounded over the parking blocks
(managing somehow to do both a vertical and horizontal leap), and skidded
to a stop in front of the eye-candy feast that awaited his eyes.
So much for tripping when he walks. I felt like all of my plans were
imploding on me.
“Oh man! Is this your car?” Andrew exclaimed.
“Nah, man—it’s my truck though.” Pete removed an electronic key from
his pocket and pressed a button. A loud chirping sound issued from the black
mammoth; its blinking lights enticing as a video game.
Mikey broke free from my hand, pumping his little legs to get into the
shiny boy-toy first. “It’s mine, Drewy!—I alweady cwaimed it when we
dwove up!”
Pete threw his head back and laughed before meeting my traitor brothers
at the driver’s-side door. “Here, allow me show you your Hummer then.” He
opened it with a flourish and hoisted Mikey into the driver’s seat.
• 143 •
Mikey immediately grabbed the steering wheel and began shaking it back and forth with feverish eyes. “Can you take us for a dwive pwease?”
“Sure,” Pete easily agreed.
“Yeah! Let’s take a spin around the block,” Andrew seconded, climbing
over his brother to get into the passenger seat.
Pete laughed appreciatively at my brothers’ enthusiasm. They were
practically foaming at the mouth as they inspected all the widgets and
whatnots. After watching them for a moment, I had a flashback to the other
night when I was hiding underneath that thing, and I distinctly remembered
Pete saying how easy the mission would be: “Like taking candy from a baby.”
Well done, Cadet Davenport.
I blasted him with a look so filthy it eroded his smile. “Maybe another
day, boys. We’ve gotta get home now.”
Pete frowned but didn’t say anything, letting the boys get th
eir loud
protests out.
“Let’s go, guys. Now. ”
“One mo’wer minute, Kadee-kat, pwease!” Mikey pleaded with his eyes.
I huffed out some aggravation. “Fine. One more minute.”
“Yay!” Mikey celebrated his victory with a fist pump.
While we waited, Pete unzipped the light jacket he was wearing over his
P.E. clothes. I noticed it was the same navy one with a roaring lion’s head.
“Nice jacket,” I smirked. “I have one at home just like it.”
Pete smirked back. “Keeping it as a memento?”
“More like a reminder,” I retorted, reaching past him to fish out Mikey,
who obviously wasn’t leaving any time soon.
“Can we take a wide tomo’wow?” Mikey asked.
“I dunno, maybe,” I hedged.
“Aw come on, Kadee! Pu-wease!”
“Yeah, or else Pete can just drive me home instead of you picking me up.
Right Pete?” Andrew added helpfully.
His mentor took his cue: “Right.”
Could not have that.
“Pwetty pwease with sugar on top?” Mikey clasped his hands together
with his “irresistible” face—all pleading eyes and pouty lips.
“Okay, fine . . . next time,” I acquiesced with poor grace. “Now get out
before I change my mind.” I could never say no to that face. No wonder Mrs.
Reyes had a hard time disciplining him—Mikey was irresistible.
Pete threw his head back and laughed. “Wow!” he said to Mikey, who
• 144 •
was straddling my hip now. “That’s a neat trick. Can you teach me how to do that?”
“What?”
“Get your sister to do what you want.” He glanced at me. “You see . . .
I’m having a little trouble in that department.”
“It’s easy!” Mikey bragged. “You just say pwetty pwease and put your
hands together like this.” He demonstrated for Pete, who played along, placing
his palms together to mimic Mikey’s irresistible face. I hated to tell him: his
face was already irresistible.
I laughed a little, surprising myself. He was slowly chipping away at my
armor. And I was . . . having fun. It was also irresistible and felt very much like manna from heaven. Our eyes met, and I tried reading what was behind the
sparkling dark orbs. Friend or foe? Pete stared back, his cartoonish expression starting to melt. Something was passing between us, so I quickly averted my
gaze back to the monkey in my arms.
