I see his face light up. He gets it now. “Well, yeah, I mean, I totally want to go to college and play ball. But I know that won’t happen.”
“And why do you think that?” I challenge him.
“You know, Ms. C, my rents ain’t got the money to send me to college.”
“Who says a lot of money is the only way to go to college? What about a scholarship? What if you submitted essays or your drawings? You’re one of the best students I have. And from what I hear, you play some mean ball.” Throwing some of the kid lingo always does the trick.
At that, I see his smirk. “I mean, I’m all right.”
We both laugh. He’s an extraordinary kid. Ian’s told me countless times that when Greg walks out of this place and into a college, it will be the Program’s proudest accomplishment.
The buzzing of my phone interrupts our college debate. Thinking it could be the lawyer’s office with news, I decide to take it. I stare at my screen, seeing a number with a local area code instead. “Hold that thought.” I hold up my finger at him, smiling.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Is this Christina Daniels?” a woman’s voice asks.
“Yes, may I ask who this is?”
“This is Trudy Davenport. I’m Pippa’s teacher here at Little Critters Daycare—”
“Oh, my God, has something happened?” I cut her off, panic in my voice. “Is she sick? Hurt?”
“No. No. Pippa is physically fine. I’m sorry to scare you. But we feel it might be best if you come for her. She’s having an episode again today.”
“I’m not sure what you mean by episode, Ms. Davenport.”
“Yes, of course. Pippa’s been having some nightmares during nap time. When she wakes up, she is very disoriented and screams for her mommy and daddy. We do our best to calm her down, but today, we’re just not sure what else to do. She won’t let anyone near her. She’s out of control and it’s disturbing the other children.”
What the . . .”Wait a minute. She’s had nightmares before, like this isn’t the first time?” I ask, bringing out my claws. Before the teacher has time to respond I go off again. “And why is this the first time I’m hearing of this?” Yep, stand-in mama bear on the prowl.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Daniels. We just assumed it was due to the traumatic situation. But unfortunately, we are at a loss today.”
“I bet you are, Ms. Davenport. I’ll be right there.” I hang up on Ms. Daven-gonna-get-punched and slam my phone on the table. I turn back to an inquisitive-looking Greg.
“Everything cool, Ms. C?”
The hell it’s not. “Everything is not cool, Greg. Some people just don’t know how to do their jobs. I’m sorry but I have to go take care of a personal matter. Can I trust you to keep an eye out for the other kids in class the remainder of the hour?”
He smiles wide. “Yeah sure, Ms. C. I got yo back.”
I love my new mini gang.
“Thanks.” I pat him on his shoulder. I don’t know what else to say. I grab my bag and rush out of the room and down the hall to Ian’s office. I only make it two doors and out comes RBF from her desk. Before she even has the chance to badger me, I warn. “Not now, Amber. I don’t have time.”
“Listen, Ian is really busy, and I’m about to go in there for a meeting, so if you need anything you can just let me know and I’ll relay the message.”
Yeah, relay that and herpes. “Gee, how nice of you, but I’ll pass. Why don’t you just go back into your office and continue stuffing your bra with Post-its, cool?” At that, I make it past her and her gaping ugly mouth.
I run into Ian’s office just as he’s slamming his phone on the desk.
“Let’s go,” he says, not so friendly.
“Where?”
“To get Pippa.”
“You know?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah, the school just called me. I’m the name after yours. Apparently, the teacher who called was a bit nervous of just you coming so she preferred a friendly face to mediate the situation.”
“That—”
“Bitch,” Ian says, finishing my sentence. “I know. No one talks about my girl like that.” He winks at me, then grabs my hand and we race out of the building.
We make it to the school in no time flat. We head into the front office where we can hear poor Pippa wailing.
“Where is my niece?” I storm into the office. As soon as Pippa sees me, she rips free of the woman who’s got a grip on her arm and runs right into my waiting hug.
“Oh, baby, it’s okay,” I coo, trying to calm down. She cries heavily into my chest, soaking right through my cotton shirt. I couldn’t care less. I pat her hair back to soothe her as best I can. I pick her up, wrap her little legs around my waist for closer comfort, and rock her back and forth while I allow Ian to take over.
“What in God’s name happened?” Ian barks at a woman I assume is the one and only Ms. Davenport.
“Ian, listen, we had a bad day, that’s all,” she nervously explains. “We couldn’t get her to listen to reason this time.”
“A bad day? So this has been consistent?” he demands. “And how come we weren’t told about this?”
She looks from Ian to me, confused, probably at the ‘we’ part. Oh, yeah, in the last twenty-four hours I guess we have become a we.
“Ian, please calm down. We didn’t think it was anything to be worried about. This is a natural reaction for a child who has experienced a traumatic event.”
Ian looks like he is growing larger with rage, the more the woman tries to explain. “So you’re trying to tell me that this child has been having these nightmares for days? More than a week? And no one has informed her guardian or me?”
God, Ian is so hot when he’s mad.
I decide to let him finish setting the teacher straight, and I step outside so Pippa can get some fresh air. As soon as I make it to the front steps of the school, I feel her starting to calm. I pull away, trying to get a good look at her face, but her poor eyes are puffy from crying and her cheeks are flushed from being so upset.
“Hey, Pip, it’s okay. We’re here. We’re going home, and we can hide in your room the rest of the day and put our dresses on and fight all the bad stuff away together, okay?” I explain this into her hair, hoping, praying she calms. I sense her starting to breathe slower, her ears perking up at the word dresses, so I go on. “I think this calls for some princess power and cookie baking.”
Bingo. I feel her tight grip on my shirt release a tad, and her face lifts from the crook of my neck. We make eye contact, and as much as I fight not to cry at her sad face, I smile instead. “I really, really, really need another princess to help me make cookies. Are you up for it?” I ask her.
I watch the debate in her eyes.
“Can we put spwinkles and candy, and peanut butter and cereal in them?”
Gag. Kids. Still working on their taste buds. “Yes, baby girl, we can put all that good stuff in the magical princess cookies.”
I watch a small smile lift on her face.
“And guess what? I bet . . .” I lean in, to whisper closer to her face. “I bet Ian will let us dress him up and put princess makeup on him, too.”
I seem to be mastering this maternal kid thing, because within minutes of grabbing up this little peach, she’s squealing in my arms. “Yay! I want to dress up Eeen.”
“What’s that?”
Oh, shit. I turn with Pippa in my arms to a waiting and curious Ian.
“Oh, nothing.” I smile and squeeze Pippa in my arms. “I think Pip is feeling better, and we have a very busy night ahead of us.”
Ian looks at me and smiles, and then takes in Pippa’s one-eighty mood swing. “You okay, princess?” He brushes her hair out of her face.
“Eeen, guess what! We get to make cookies and dress you up as a pwincess when we get home!” She’s about to fall out of my arms, she’s so animated and excited over our plans.
Ian, on the other hand, is giving me the look
of you’re going to get it, and not in a good spanking sort of way. Either way, I’ll take it. I do miss my naughty side.
I JUST EXCUSED MYSELF from Pippa’s bedroom to run into the living room because I’m laughing so hard I may pee myself.
The current situation is this: Pippa and I look glorious because we have our princess makeup all done with crowns on. But Ian looks ah-mazing because he is wearing purple eye shadow and lipstick, with princess clip-on earrings and a pretty hot pink boa. He looks great. And I mean hilarious. He smiles patiently back at Pippa every time she suggests more makeup or jewelry, and agrees, while I catch the look of ‘get ready to run’ jabbed my way. Hey, he should be thanking me for saving the day.
Once we all calm down, we need to address the whole nightmare factor, because that’s a serious thing, but right now, I agree it’s best to let Pippa be Pippa. And that is to be a kid.
“All done!” sounds from the bedroom and Pippa comes barreling out of her room toward the kitchen. “Come on, Kissy! It’s time to make cookies!”
I get the hint and pull myself off the floor. I make it to a standing position and see Ian blocking the kitchen entrance.
Uh oh.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
Fail. I fall over laughing, holding my stomach so I don’t break a rib from laughing so hard.
“Something funny over there, Chrissy?”
“Oh no. Nothing. Just . . . just . . .” I can’t even finish my sentence. I collapse in a fit of unattractive snorts. If the tears and boogers on my face aren’t any indication, then I’ll spell it out—this shit is funny.
“Cookies!” we both hear an impatient Pippa scream from the kitchen, allowing me to straighten and get to the issue at hand.
I walk to the kitchen doorway, daring Ian to try something. He stares me down for seconds, and then drops his hand, allowing me through.
“All right! So cookies it is,” I exclaim, swishing my palms together. “Let’s get the ingredients, shall we?”
“Hey, princess,” Ian says, “why don’t you go get your stepstool from your room so you can help at the counter, okay?”
“Oh, yay!” she squeals and takes off.
I have about one millisecond before Ian pushes me into the pantry and shuts the door.
I have less than that to suck in air before he slams his lipstick-coated lips to mine. God, he is so sexy. And just when I thought I wasn’t into chicks. Kissing the lipstick right off him is so hot we could probably bake the cookies right off the sexual heat we’re generating.
“God, you’re gonna owe me for this,” he mumbles between nips and licks.
I’ll give him anything he wants as long as he doesn’t stop kissing me.
“Name your price, princess,” I say, trying not to laugh into his mouth.
He pushes me more into the pantry, rattling the shelf. I think a box of mac and cheese bounces off my head, but I couldn’t care less. I feel his erection pushing into my lucky spot and I’m hoping we have enough time to do some serious dry humping in the pantry.
“Oh, God, you feel so good. How long does it take to get a stool?” I groan, trying to calculate if there is enough time to shove his hands down my pants.
That thought is broken by the pantry door being thrown open. Just as the light fully illuminates the small space, Ian’s off me in a heartbeat, grabbing at a bunch of random canned items while I focus on pointing at random things on the shelves.
“What are you two doing in here?” Pippa’s questioning voice blares into the pantry.
“Oh, nothing, sweetie. Just picking out some ingredients for the cookies. Ian was helping me.”
Smart little girl doesn’t look too fooled by our fib, but thankfully, she notices something much more important than figuring out what we were up to in the pantry. She stares up at Ian, until finally she puts her little hands on her hips and starts tapping her right foot on the ground impatiently.
“Eeeeen, you ruined your lipstick! Now I have to fix it!” she wails. She goes to grab for his hand, and I about choke spitting saliva out of my mouth.
Ian, who is trying not to turn to face Pippa due to the large bulge in his pants right now, just looks at me for help.
“You better hurry up and go, Ian. Princess cookies wait for no one.” I send him my most glorious wink.
With that, he is escorted out.
Sideways.
To get his lips touched up.
Once again, I’m in danger of peeing my pants.
SIX BATCHES OF COOKIES. Two burned because unfortunately not all cereal bakes well in cookie dough. One batch of peanut butter goodness turned into two because we all ate the first batch before they cooled. Add in the last batch of princess-sprinkle delights, which is where it all started, and you have three little pigs sitting on the couch with their top buttons popped open while watching the evening shows, trying to keep the sugar explosion from becoming a sugar upchuck-o-rama.
Ian, thankfully, was the smart one who threw in a frozen pizza that was hiding behind the frozen pancakes. Pippa fortunately didn’t notice that treat. And between cookie batches, we did attempt to feed her an acceptable dinner. Now we are all wishing, even little ol’ Pippa that we’d made better decisions about the amount of sugar we shoved down our throats.
Pippa seems to be recovering the fastest, because she begins to laugh at the movie on the television. I, on the other hand, have my palm lying on my belly, rubbing at the bulge, hoping it goes down, while Ian groans every couple of minutes and tries to adjust his belt buckle.
The things you do for the ones you love.
Aww, I just said it. Well, in my head.
I do love Pippa. How could I not? She has been nothing but awesome since the moment she stepped in front of me. She reminds me of the only good part of my childhood—my beautiful sister. I don’t need to wonder who Amy became in the years after I left. I know it was nothing less than the incredible sister I remember. For the last four years, she’s been raising this amazing little human, just like she raised me. I just hope that I can carry the torch and do justice to Amy’s legacy. I owe it to her to help her daughter become the beautiful person she was teaching her to be.
In the midst of my thoughts, Ian has shifted, trying to get my attention. Once I make eye contact with him, he nods toward Pippa, indicating it’s time to have that talk. At first I want to signal for him to start off, because he’s known her longer, so she may feel more comfortable with him, but then again, I’m gonna be her future, so I need the practice.
“Hey, sweetie, can we have a little chat real quick?” I ask her, trying to adjust her on my lap. Once Pippa is facing me, I inhale deeply and do my best not to mess this one up. “So do you want to talk about what happened today?” I ask softly, leaving a little smile on my face for comfort.
Not making it easy for me, she shakes her head and bends her head to stare into her lap.
“Honey, you know it’s okay to talk about it. We’re your safe spot. Do you know what a safe spot is?”
She shakes her head.
“A safe spot is a place where no matter what or how you feel, you are in the safest place to talk about whatever you’re feeling or what’s on your mind. No matter what you say, you won’t get in trouble and no one will get mad. Anything is okay to say in the safe spot.”
She listens to my description—I have no idea where I pulled that one from—until I see recognition in her eyes. She gets it.
“So I won’t get in twouble?” she questions.
“Correct, sweetie. Anything you say is safe with us. It’s just us three, okay?”
She looks from me to Ian. Ian nods and smiles in confirmation, and then she moves her inquiring eyes back to mine. It’s when she finally speaks that my heart takes its first hit.
“Mommy and Daddy are there when I’m sleeping. But when I wake up, they go away. And that makes me sad.”
I inhale a strangled breath of air. It’s important right now to keep my composure and be the adult
, but holy shit, I didn’t expect that one. I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to keep calm.
“Where do they go? Why do they leave me? Mommy said she would never leave me,” Pippa continues.
Small minds. How do I try and explain something that in no terms this precious little girl will ever understand? I barely understand it myself. I feel Ian clutch my hand that’s holding on to Pippa’s, offering his support.
“Pip, sometimes ,”—I pause to take a deep breath—“sometimes we get lucky and they get to visit us in our dreams. It’s their way of still telling you how much they love you and that they’re looking over you no matter what.”
I watch her little eyes as she takes in what I said. She’s thinking. That little mind working overtime.
“But why don’t they visit me when I am awake? Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, honey, no. Sometimes people have to go to Heaven sooner than others. And it was time for your mommy and daddy. They love you sooo much, baby. They didn’t want to leave you. But they had to go.” I’m not sure how much more I can say. My composure is slipping and my eyes are filling with tears.
Pippa looks at me, her sad expression stating the obvious. She doesn’t understand. And I just don’t know how to make her.
“Did you get to say goodbye when you saw mommy? When she came to see you?”
“What?” I ask, confused. “Honey, your mommy didn’t come and see me.”
“But she did,” she argues.
“Princess.” Ian quickly jumps in and gets Pippa to turn her somber face to him, giving me the chance to wipe the tears from my face. “You might not be able to see your mommy and daddy anymore except in your dreams, but they will always be watching over you. That’s why Chrissy and I will be here to make sure you grow up and become big and wonderful. And in spirit, your mommy and daddy will always be watching over you.”
My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) Page 12