The Academy (The Academy Saga Book 1)

by CJ Daly

“Pwetty pwease, Kadee with a chewry on top?” Mikey tried his cute

  impersonation, but I didn’t even look.

  “Not today, Mike.”

  “Pweeeeeeeeease!”

  “Mikey! Stop it!” This came out more harshly than I intended. A glance

  in the rearview mirror revealed unpretending pouty lips and pooling tears. I

  dropped my pencil and turned around to engage with my little brother, who

  sorely needed my attention. “I’m sorry, honey. I wish we could but we don’t

  have enough time. We’ll come another day.”

  • 171 •

  “That’s what you ahways say.”

  “Well, I mean it this time . . . ‘sides, you get to go home and see animals

  every day.”

  “Not cows and pigs,” he said disdainfully, “weal animals!”

  I started a laugh that stopped the instant Pete appeared from the revolving

  doors with Andrew trailing behind him. Pete’s easy smile also faltered a bit

  when he saw me, though he replaced it with an affable enough expression. He

  slid something over to Andrew that had him responding with a laugh before

  he waved back at us in the car.

  Well those two are obviously still in the throes of a bromance.

  Mikey began thrashing around in the back, clambering for his brother.

  I heaved a sigh, a renewed desperation to keep our family together blooming

  in me.

  “We got the whole place practically to ourselves today!” Andrew

  announced, getting in carefully with a box of goodies in his hands. It looked

  like it was chock-full of science books, educational games, and a high-tech

  microscope Andrew always wanted but we could never afford. This rankled

  me almost as much as their budding bromance did.

  “No fayer!” Mikey wailed out his injustice. “How come Drewy gets to

  have fun and not me?”

  “Hey, buddy.” Pete acknowledged him with a fist-bump then handed over

  a plastic dinosaur concealed behind his back.

  “Triceratops! Thanks, Pete! . . . When’s it my turn for mentorin’?”

  “Mikey!” I blanched at the very thought.

  Pete chuckled a little. “Wanna come in and help feed the turtles?”

  “They also have a Pteranodon in there!” Andrew piled on.

  “Weawlly?” Mikey immediately unclicked his seatbelt, so I had to get out

  and head him off.

  “I already told you—we gotta go.” After re-buckling a mutinous Mikey,

  I spared the time to glare at Pete. “Thanks,” I said acidly, slamming my door

  and starting the engine.

  Mikey started crying, and Pete’s face started melting. “How about you

  come along next time, buddy? . . . If it’s alright with your sister.”

  Immediately cheered somewhat, Mikey scrubbed the sniffles away with

  the back of his hand. “Can I, Kadee?”

  All eyes on me. I shook my head at his audacity. Wasn’t taking one of my

  brothers away from me enough? I shot him another filthy look . “Well, if Pete would’ve bothered to ask, I would’ve told him that’s probably not going to

  work because we have to get home to feed our own animals.”

  • 172 •

  Pete gave me a wounded look. “I’m sorry, Kate. I was just trying to be nice.”I nodded through a sigh before quickly backing out. A tap on the window

  had me tapping brakes. Thought about not stopping this time, but social

  graces and plain ole curiosity insisted I see what he wanted. I shoved the gear

  in park and rolled down my window, but he went around to Andrew’s side.

  “Hey man, one more thing . . .”

  “What is it Pete?” Eagerness dripped from Andrew’s voice.

  “In just this one instance, you can break the bro-code, and I won’t hold

  it against you.” Pete shifted his eyes to mine.

  “But Pete!” Andrew said, outraged. “I thought you said us guys gotta

  stick together!”

  “I know I did, but this one time we can allow Kate to be the exception to

  the rule.” He looked meaningfully at Andrew.

  “Okay, Pete,” he agreed, more reluctantly than he should.

  I was really miffed that my little brother could switch alliances so quickly

  but told myself not to hold it against him because he was just starving for a

  good male role model. And you definitely couldn’t ask for a better male model

  than Pete Davenport.

  “Okay then. Tomorrow . . . same time, same place,” Pete directed at me.

  I did the nod thing again.

  “Right. Same time, same place!” Andrew answered for me.

  “See ya later alligator,” Pete called, pointing at him as I backed out.

  “After while crocodile!” Andrew called back gleefully.

  Mikey waved his new dinosaur out the window. “Bye, Pete!” he yelled,

  not wanting to feel left out.

  I knew the feeling.

  • 173 •

  17

  FACTS AND PROBABILITIES

  Finishing up with chores about the same time the sun sank behind the

  shed meant our shadows would beat us to the house and hodge-podge

  was on the menu tonight. I was wiped out and didn’t have enough time

  (or ingredients) to cook anyway. And I needed to powwow with my traitor

  brother before bed and try to get some answers.

  Daddy was MIA again. It was both a blessing and a curse to have him away

  (the blessing being, of course, the absence of his presence). Unfortunately, we

  had family business that needed to be taken care of. I wanted to discuss him

  picking up Andrew in the afternoons. That way I could avoid getting sucked

  into Pete’s magnetic force field and get a jumpstart on my chores. Also, the

  water tank out in the pasture was way low, and I couldn’t get the water to

  turn on more than a trickle. I left it on for a few minutes, but didn’t really

  have time to wait for it to fill up because it was already heading past supper.

  I just hoped it was enough water to get by for now. The herd always

  headed in for the evening to drink, and I was worried about some of the

  smaller calves reaching the water. Ugh! Where is Daddy anyway? Going out there at night definitely fell into man-duty. I hollered for Andrew to bring me

  the dirty clothes, so I could get a wash in while I prepared dinner.

  “Can’t,” he hollered back. “I’m workin’ on my homework.”

  I looked over to where he had some of the new books Pete had given him

  spread out on the floor . Arg! “Thanks a lot, Andrew.”

  “What? I have to do my homework. Daddy even said it’s the priority

  around here.”

  “Oh he did, did he?” My blood began to boil.

  “I’ll do it, Kadee,” Mikey volunteered, running off before I could stop

  him—his help usually entailed more work for me.

  • 174 •

  I sighed as I spread peanut butter onto celery stalks and poured milk.

  Snorted to myself. Who needs thirty-minute meals when you can get the job done in five? I mentally went down the food groups to fill in the holes. Snapped my fingers—whole grains. Dropping some bread in the toaster, I called the

  boys in to eat.

  “Not done yet.” Andrew, not even looking up.

  “Well then, you can just multi-task by readin’ and eatin’ at the same time.”

  I snatched the book out from under his nose and slammed it onto the table.

  “Boy! You’re in a bad mood today,” he huffed, but got up and came in.
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  I blew some air. “Sorry. It’s just been a long couple of days. Here,” I

  finished buttering the toast and set the plates on the table, “sit down and eat.

  I’d better go rustle up Mikey.”

  “Where’s supper?”

  “On the table.”

  “That’s not supper . . . that’s a snack,” he corrected, picking up a bendy

  celery stalk doubtfully.

  Silent prayer. “Andrew Richmond Connelly, you can either eat what’s on

  the table, or you can pour yourself some cereal.”

  “But that’s for breakfast!”

  “Well, that’s what’s on the menu tonight.” I made a Herculean effort to

  lower the volume on my voice. “Look Drews, give me a break, huh? . . . I

  can’t do everything ‘round here!” I vented out before stomping down the hall to the bathroom. I found Mikey pulling heaps of clothes from the hamper.

  “Look, Kadee! I almost got them all!”

  “You sure did.” I forced a smile and poked him in his Play-Doh stomach.

  “Thanks a lot . . . you sure are a lifesaver!”

  Mikey smiled back with a wide, knowing smile. “What flavor?”

  “Hmmm . . .” I pretended to smell his neck but instead blew a loud

  raspberry there. He laughed so hard I could see all the way down to his tonsils.

  So I did it again, just for the pleasure of hearing him laugh his head off, then

  set him on his feet and answered, “Cherry, my favorite, of course!”

  He pressed a hug into me, and I deep breathed in his sweet innocence.

  “Yep. Definitely cherry-flavored.”

  He beamed—cherry was his favorite.

  “Go on out to the kitchen,” I said. “I’ll finish grabbing the laundry . . .

  looks like the hard part’s already been done for me!” As he ran out the door, I

  patted him on his cushy-tushy. Then puffed out my cheeks and began sorting

  through the mess of clothes strung across the floor, pulling out the whites and

  stuffing the rest back in the hamper. Grabbing the basket, I trudged past the

  • 175 •

  table heading to Daddy’s bathroom and saw that Andrew was still engrossed in his book, but at least he was chewing on the end of his celery stalk without

  complaining.

  Mikey grinned up at me from a piece of buttered toast. “Mmmmm! This

  is my favwit supper ever, Kadee! You are the best cooker in the world!”

  “Why thank you,” I said with a little bow. “And you are the best helper

  in the world. I’m already almost done. One more stop and then I’m gonna

  come back and swipe the rest of that toast!”

  “Nuh-uh!” He laughed and pulled the plate of toast to him.

  My lips were still curled into a smile when I wandered into Daddy’s room,

  where my mood instantly dimmed with the lighting. The curtains were

  drawn, but you could still see Daddy’s prized possession hanging—silent and

  malevolent—on the wall. How he could sleep (and peacefully I might add)

  with a gun hanging over his head was beyond me.

  Hastily, I moved it to his bathroom and started loading Daddy’s yellow-

  pitted T-shirts and tighty-whities into the basket, trying not to dwell on what

  created those stains. An immediate hand washing was in order, so I went to

  the sink. Dang it! Of course there was no soap in the dispenser.

  I huffed out some aggravation before kneeling down to rifle through the

  various toiletries, toothpaste boxes, and extra toilet paper occupying the space.

  Women’s work real y was never done, I thought right as my hand touched on

  something cold and hard. What the? Curious, I pulled out the unexpected

  slick container and raised it to the light. Almost dropped it when I realized

  what it was—alcohol, and not the rubbing kind. My eyes widened. I scanned

  the label being unfamiliar with adult beverages. Scotch. And from the look of

  the bottle, good scotch. I pulled out the cork to investigate further. It let out a satisfying, squeaky pop, emitting pleasant fumes. I sniffed the amber liquid

  inside. Mmmm. It actually smelled really good—kind of smoky and woodsy

  and expensive all at the same time. Curiosity satisfied I placed the cork and

  bottle back, deciding not to refill the soap dispenser after all.

  What’s Daddy doing with scotch under the bathroom sink? To my knowledge,

  he didn’t even drink alcohol. And if he was a closet drinker . . . for how long?

  What else did I not know about my father? Where he was at the moment, for

  one thing.

  “Almost done with your toast, Kadee!” Mikey teased from the dining

  room.

  “Comin’, buddy.”

  Answers. That’s what I needed. I tromped back to the compact closet off

  the side of the kitchen to get the load of wash started. I still had to hang it

  • 176 •

  out to dry, which meant I would be doing it in the dark after I got the boys to bed. Another question was just added to the heap I’d already amassed so

  far: How come a man so cheap he insisted on saving money by (me) hanging our

  clothes on the line, would then turn around and buy a gentleman’s bottle of scotch?

  He wouldn’t. So that meant someone gave it to him. A gift? That feeling crawled up my spine. A bribe. A few more pieces of the puzzle clicked

  together—it was that dang academy again. They were bribing Daddy and

  using Pete to “woo” me. What other tricks did they have up their sleeve? I

  slammed down the lid and punched start before going to see if I could pry

  some answers from my star-struck brother.

  While slicing up some dodgy-looking bananas and dividing the few

  remaining whole vanilla wafers between the two boys, I tried to think of a

  good way to broach the subject without Andrew getting his back up. But like

  everything else lately—I was having no luck.

  Nose still glued to his book, Andrew picked up a stale cookie. “No

  pudding?”

  “Not unless you wanna pour tap water on your cereal for breakfast.”

  Mike giggled. “Ew, gross!”

  “You need to go to the store,” declared Andrew, crunching on a bite.

  “I need to do a lotta things,” I said. “Speakin’ of which, I was thinkin’,

  Drews”—I pushed down his book—“of maybe havin’ Daddy pick you up

  from tutorin’, so I could have more time to manage things better around

  here.” He immediately looked like his cookie tasted bad. “. . . If Daddy does

  the honor, then I could grocery shop and get a jump start on our chores.”

  “Uh-uh! No way, Jose!” Andrew dropped his cookie on the plate forgotten.

  “He’ll ruin everything, like he always does, and totally embarrass me in front

  of Pete!” He pleaded with me, “Please, Katie-Kat. Can’t you still do it?”

  I sighed. “Fine. I guess I could pack a cooler for the groceries.” I had a

  feeling if I ruined this for Andrew, he’d never forgive me.

  “Or . . .” Andrew’s face lit up, “you could let Pete drive me home.”

  “No way, Jose!” I said, gathering dishes.

  “Come on! Why not? He offered.”

  “Because it’s way too far out of his way.”

  “He said he really wanted to.” Andrew helped me by handing his plate

  over.“He was just being polite, Drews.” I added it to my stack and tightrope-

  walked to the sink, turning the faucet on high.

  “Well, that’s more than I can say for you!” Andr
ew followed me in. “Come

  • 177 •

  on, Katie! He offered us all a ride in his Hummer. He’s bein’ so nice, and you’re not at all!” Emotion colored his face.

  I let the remarks about me being rude slide. How could I argue? “Maybe

  some other time,” I said.

  “That’s what you always say! . . . You never let us have any fun!”

  My own face flushed the color of mad. “Oh, I’m sorry, Andrew. That’s too

  bad for you. I guess I should just spend all my spare free time makin’ sure you

  have some”—I dropped the plate I was scraping to finger quote—“‘fun’ . . .

  instead of say . . . spendin’ it tryin’ to make some extra money to put food on

  our table and clothes on your back!”

  We were all on the verge of tears, and since we never fought, it didn’t feel

  good at all, sorta like your favorite sweatshirt got shrunk in the wash and no

  longer fit right.

  “You know what?” Andrew’s voice elevated so fast it cracked. “I’m not

  gonna act less smart than I am anymore. And you know what else? . . . I want

  to go to that school!” He followed that bold statement up by kicking his chair

  over, and proving himself already to be at that boy age where anger was the

  only acceptable emotion to show.

  “Oh, yes you are!” I thundered, grabbing him by his shoulders. I wanted

  to give him a good shake. “I’m your sister, and you promised me!”

  “Oh, no I’m not!” He ripped away from my grip. “And just cause you’re

  my sister, doesn’t mean you can make me . . . ‘Sides, you promised we could

  take a ride in Pete’s truck, so now we’re even-Steven!”

  “Andrew . . .” I breathed, kneeling down. He wouldn’t look me in the

  eye; I suspected there was some moisture there. “You don’t know what you’re

  sayin’ about that school. You don’t wanna go there.”

  “You don’t know what you’re sayin’—I do! Pete told me all about it, and

  it sounds awesome. Way more awesome than just workin’ all the time and

  goin’ to church!”

  “Drews,” I said, a quiet reprimand. “You don’t mean that. Besides, it’s too

  far away—we would miss you too much.”

  “Pete said they have designated visiting days—I might could even come

  back for Christmas.”

  The restrictive scheduling of family time caused my chest to tighten.