by CJ Daly
was always doing this. Instead, he took these regurgitated words as signs of
• 102 •
his allegiance. This was just one of many things that helped cement Andrew’s status as favorite Connelly progeny.
“Long night,” I croaked, leaning over to buss the tops of their heads.
“Well, I hope you have a good, long story to go along with it,” he said,
pointedly.
“Kadee always tells the best stories,” Mikey chimed in, ever the president
of my fan club.
I rubbed my hand against the dark grain of Mikey’s bristle. “Don’t I
always?”
Heavy tromping down the hall shook the floor. We simultaneously fell
silent as Daddy appeared in the doorway. I half expected to hear Fi-fi-fo-fum!
My father was a big man, and whatever space wasn’t swallowed up by his
frame was filled in with his anger.
After a measured silence: “Bedroom, now! ” he ordered before turning
around and tromping back from where he came from. Andrew and I exchanged
looks. My father was more of the rant and rave type and usually enjoyed a
good audience .
“Yes, sir,” I croaked, realizing I must be in more trouble than I thought.
Mikey patted my arm, and I smiled encouragingly before trudging after
Daddy’s stiff back to his bedroom.
Upon entering, I saw that his bed was still habitually and tightly made,
but other than that, an almost complete makeover (or I guess I should say
make- under) had occurred since I’d last been in here to clean. Our cheerful finger-painted milestones had been taken down, leaving dark rectangular
reminders of their frames instead, and my mother’s graying bathrobe was no
longer hanging from the back of the bathroom door. My eyes automatically
searched the chest-of-drawers for their wedding photo. It was conspicuously
missing along with the tarnished silver tray that held his wedding band, and
the keepsake box that held mysterious treasures kept locked away. I realized
all traces of her were wiped clean as the commemorative rifle Daddy now
prominently displayed from its perch above the headboard.
Blinking back tears, I stood facing him and his army-regulation crew cut
while he stared me down, not missing the scratch running for my hairline. I
fought the impulse to cover it with my hands.
A few more seconds tocked by before he said, “You sure you told me
ever’thing ‘bout what happened last night?”
Gulp. “Yes, sir.”
His eyes held mine in the kind of staring contest that Ashley-Leigh and
• 103 •
I used to indulge in when we were kids. I stared back with what I hoped was my most innocent expression.
“This mornin’ I drove over to the Montgomery’s to tow yer car back for
ya, while you was home snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug. Funny thing . . .”—he let that
hang in the air while my heart plummeted—“it started just fine.”
I found swallowing hard while still trying to appear innocent was counter-
productive. Then there was the heat factor that gave me away—sweat began
blistering my upper lip. I started to stammer out a quick explanation when a
heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder. This had the dual purpose of shutting
me up and sinking me onto the bed.
Now that Daddy had my attention, he leaned over, finger to face. “I don’t
know, or care, what kind of shenanigans went on last night with Little-Miss-
About-Town. However, you are my daughter, and therefore, a reflection of
me. I will not have you out gallivantin’ around town with that floozy till all hours of the night. If I were her Daddy, I’d’ve bent’er over my knee a long time
ago. ‘Spare The Rod And Spoil The Child,’ is the motto that family needs
to remember from the Good Book. They lost control of that one a long time
ago. But I am not about to lose control of my kid!”
I knew just what to do in these situations—cast my eyes down submissively.
“Now I know what it’s like to be young. I was young once, too. You can
get yerself into a lotta trouble runnin’ around late at night . . . ‘specially a
girl like you. You gotta be careful not to get caught up in harmless fun.” He
air-quoted now. “‘ Harmless fun’ most often leads to harmful consequences. I outta know.” He indicated the leg he injured in a motorcycle accident that
effectively ended his military career.
“Yes, sir,” I said, almost seeing his point after last night’s fiasco.
“Discipline the military gave me is the thing that changed my life, and
discipline is what you kids need, not more freedom. And that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about . . .”
My stomach lurched. When I braved his eyes again, he gave me the kind
of look intended to nail me to the wall.
“I can see now that I can’t trust you to be a proper mother-figure, nor
moral guide for those two boys in there.”
I gasped like he’d slapped my face.
“. . . Your lies and lack of good judgment last night made me realize that
yer mama over-estimated yer ability to raise them boys. Maybe it ain’t fair
to rely on you; yer still immature—like havin’ a kid raise a kid. So I realized
this mornin’ at church, while you was home sleepin’ in, that I’m on the right
track with this here military academy.”
• 104 •
I was still fighting the urge to scream when he said, “I wanted to let you know that I’ve reconsidered my position on that school.”
I stood up, horrified. “Daddy, no!”
“Yer brother has a real opp’rtunity to make somethin’ of his life with
this Elite Academy.” Daddy actually cracked a prideful smile, which caused a strong urge in me to smash a pie . . . right in his face.
“B-but, Daddy, you can’t do that!” He was using last night’s one-time
transgression as leverage for his plot to enroll Drewy in that military academy.
It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. And I had to stop it! “You said you weren’t about to send Andrew off to be raised by any of those fancy boardin’ schools!”
I reminded him.
“It ain’t just some fancy boardin’ school—it’s ‘The World’s Most Elite
Military Academy’,” Daddy corrected me.
“But you promised Mama!” My voice wobbled. “Please, Daddy! You just
can’t send him away—he’s only eight-years-old!”
His eyes moved to a spot above my shoulder. “We’ll cross that bridge
when we get to it,” he said, placating me now that I was on the verge of tears.
(Tears were my father’s kryptonite.) “Right now they just wanna assess him,
see if he’s a good fit for ‘em. From my understandin’, they’re only lookin’ for
a partic’lar type of kid.”
Of course they’re going to accept him, I wanted to spit—Harvard, Yale,
and Princeton all would.
“They’re not lettin’ in just any ol’ rift-raft. And I don’t blame ‘em one bit.
Kids today . . .” Daddy continued droning on about what was wrong with kids
today, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I was thinking back to what I overheard
Pete tell Ranger last night. Something about a mission being so easy, it would
be like taking candy from a baby.
What was the mission exactly? Stealing a young boy from his family? Was
Andrew the candy, and me the
baby?
Fear and rage went coursing through my body, forming a potentially
hazardous adrenaline bomb. While Daddy went on and on about “the
amazing opp’rtunity this was for Andrew,” I felt this liquid outrage begin to
bubble over. I had to cork it before I exploded all over him.
“If he’s accepted, they’ll offer him a full scholarship, which includes free
room and board. Now you tell me how I can just let that ship sail on by with
a good conscious?” Daddy reasoned.
A glare was my answer.
“I’m gonna do right by my boy, whether or not you approve, big sister.”
It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He knew very well
• 105 •
the promises he’d made to Mama regarding schools that were interested in us. And diminishing my role in Andrew’s life to mere “big sister” was really
a low blow.
My urge to throw pie in his face had grown to wanting to grind it in
for good measure. Stupid, stupid, stupid, my eyes transmitted this message, hoping it would sink into his skull telepathically. But I had a feeling his skull
was too thick to penetrate.
“Now you stop lookin’ at me like that, Katherine.”
“Like what?” I challenged, my temper getting the best of me. “Like the
man we’re all supposed to look up to is too weak-willed to keep his word?”
I flinched back as violence flashed from Daddy’s eyes. “Weak-wil ed!” he
thundered. “You referrin’ to the same weak-willed man who allowed you to
go back to public school and get a job?”
I looked down, suddenly absorbed by a water stain in the carpet. He was
right—I could not dispute the fact that he’d also made those promises to
Mama. And I was glad he’d broken them at the time, wanting a more normal
life for us. Now I wasn’t so sure. If we’d never gone back to public school, then
Andrew’s teachers would never have sent query letters to all those schools, and
we wouldn’t be sitting here having this argument right now.
I just realized, again, that Mama might not have died a crazy, delusional
woman after all. Maybe she’d known exactly what she was doing. Another
shiver ran down my spine when I thought of all the ways we’d already gone
against her wishes. We were suddenly off on a course she’d intentionally
blocked us from. Daddy had already knocked down the barricade, and we
were barreling down it now. Was there a steep cliff at the end that we’d
run right over, only to plunge to our death? And Daddy was the freight
train driving us. Once he’d set his mind to something, he wouldn’t veer off
course, no matter what. He suffered from what Mama always referred to as
a “one-track-mind.”
Everything was still cloaked in a hazy gray fog, but one thing was clear:
my mission was to stop that academy from sinking its claws into Andrew.
There was no way I could argue with Daddy once his mind was made up.
I couldn’t out yell him, or physically make him do anything he didn’t want
to do. So I had no choice but to outsmart him.
“Have you informed Andrew about your big plans for his future?”
“Not yet,” he said defensively. “I hadn’t made up my mind until after
meetin’ with their representatives.”
“Representatives?” I sprang back to my feet like I’d just sat on a live wire.
“What representatives?”
• 106 •
The two representatives my father began describing exactly matched the two that sprang to mind. “That Elite Academy sent over, not one, but
two ambassadors, to discuss their program. And they were both . . . uh, very handsome and well-spoken, and had a lotta confidence about ‘em. I could
exactly picture Andrew growin’ up to be just like that,” he positively crowed
with enthusiasm.
I swallowed my snarky retort to focus on the facts. “When did you meet
with them?”
Daddy’s complexion turned ruddier. “Yest’rday afternoon. Over at
Cannon Air Force Base. That’s why I was a little late gettin’ home,” he
admitted. “I gotta tell ya, Katie. I never seen nothin’ like it in all my military
years—those two cadets were completely given the royal treatment. You’d a
thought they were a couple of four-star generals the way they rolled out the
red carpet for ‘em!”
Daddy trumpeted some more about them and their Elite Academy. How
they convinced him it was the best place for a gifted boy like Andrew. About
the strict standards and discipline, and how the world would be his oyster after
graduating . . . blah, blah, blah. My thoughts whirled around in my head like
a tornado, so I could only pick up a phrase here and there intermingled with
my thoughts on Ranger’s bizarre hatefulness, Pete’s possible role in all of this,
and Mama’s fear about “special” schools.
“Yep, they came all the way out here from California to meet with me.
The graduatin’ cadets have the recruitin’ duties for new members as part of
their graduation requirement . . . kind of a neat tradition if you ask me, passin’
on the torch that way. Can you believe that Andrew is bein’ considered? And
at such a young age? It’s very excitin’ news. You’ll see. I’d never forgive myself
if I didn’t take advantage of this golden opp’rtunity for my son.”
I must’ve looked green around the gills, because Daddy stopped speaking
like he was in an infomercial for that stupid school. “You feelin’ alright,
Katie?”
No. I felt awful. My ears were ringing and my head was spinning. Too
much was happening too fast, and way too much was at stake. I started
hyperventilating.
“Katie-girl?” His voice seemed to be coming from far away.
I couldn’t speak yet and was sure that if I opened my mouth, I would end
up either hurling the F-bomb or last night’s birthday cake all over Daddy. I’d
only had a gut reaction this visceral once before—when Mama told us she
was sick.
If Andrew was accepted—which he one hundred percent would
• 107 •
be—(cause if they weren’t looking for Drews, I don’t know who they would be looking for) then my brother would be shipped off to that academy forever.
I shuddered at the thought of what that would do to our little family. It wasn’t
fair. We had so little. All we really had was each other. And now Daddy had
decided, overnight, to change that.
Hot tears began trickling down my cheeks, the first drops in front of
Daddy since Mama’s funeral. I knew he wouldn’t react right, unadept as he
was with dealing with female emotions. Despite that, I was desperate for him
to comfort me.
“Now Katie, you stop that nonsense!” He patted my arm in a gesture
I took to be more warning than sympathy. “You gotta pull yerself together
before we tell the boys. You gettin’ hysterical’s only gonna make it harder
on ‘em.”
Sometimes I hate being right.
A timid knock on the door wrenched me from my misery. “Kadee?”
Mikey said hesitantly, “Are you okay?”
A warm, fuzzy feeling enveloped me like a hug; he’d come to check on
me, knowing full well he was risking Daddy’s wrath. I suddenly realized it
was
my four-year-old brother and not my forty-four-year-old father who always comforted me.
“Go away, Shadow, this does not concern you!” Daddy ordered.
“But I am co’cerned cause you’re makin’ Kadee cry.”
I knew I had to get him out of here fast, because Daddy was currently
teetering along the thin line between boiling over into a rage . . . or just plain
boiling over. Mikey’s meddling would definitely tip him onto the rage side.
“Actually, Mikey, we’re comin’ out in a minute to have a family meetin’,”
I said, trying to stuff a sock in it. A pause. “So go on back and drag Drewy in
from wherever he’s hidin’ and wait for us in the livin’ room.”
“Okay, Kadee.” He hesitated before running off to do my bidding.
I stifled my sobs until they were as intermittent as hiccups, calmed
somewhat by the idea that if anyone could change Daddy’s mind, it would
be his first-born son. When it seemed I’d calmed down to the point I was no
longer a “hysterical female,” Daddy tried to reason with me again.
“Now, Katie, you know that Andrew’s been bored outta his gourd in
school for a long time now.”
“If that’s what that mentor’s for, I can do it myself!”
Daddy continued talking as if I hadn’t spoken: “This here Elite Academy
is the best place for a boy like him to be challenged academically and to learn
the discipline it takes to make somethin’ of himself in this world.”
• 108 •
I snorted. “I don’t really know how much more discipline an eight-year-old boy needs.”
“That’s right, young lady. You do not.” He pointed between my eyes like
I’d just made a valid point for him. “Accordin’ to them two cadets, ninety
percent of our brain power goes unused. If caught early enough, they can
remedy that sit’eation in Andrew ‘fore his brain starts, uh . . . atrophyin’ on ‘im like everybody else. And account of him bein’ so smart and all, well . . . that
would just be a cryin’ shame,” he finished, snapping his suspenders proudly
after his little spiel.
I ignored the useless data he’d just babbled. “Have you even taken into
account how Andrew feels about this? After all, it’s his life we’re talkin’ about here.”“’O’ course I have!” Daddy became irate immediately. “I tried tellin’ him
just last night with you gone . . .”
Convenient timing.