Chapter 1
Mac: Age 17
Kira: Age 14
Michael: Age 10
Naomi: Age 8
"MIKEY, GET YOUR BUTT BACK HERE WITH THAT!" Mac bellowed at her younger brother, chasing him downstairs.
Ten year old Michael giggled, taunting her while waving her journal in the air. "Mac kissed a boy! Mac kissed a boy!"
"I'm going to kill you, you little pig!"
"What on earth is going on?" Montana asked
"Mikey's been in my room again and found my journal. He's being a nosy pig," Mac snorted. "God, little kids drive me crazy!"
"Short trip," Michael laughed. "Mami, Mac kissed a boy!"
"Michael Preston London, you have no business being in Mackenzie's room, much less being in her things. Now you give that back to her."
He gave Montana a sheepish look before handing the journal back to Mac.
"Thank you," Mac said, annoyed.
"Now you can go back upstairs and finish your homework," Montana told her, "and I don't want to hear you on that phone or see you on IM until all of it is done."
"Yes ma'am," Mac nodded before she went back upstairs.
"As for you, young man, you are on time out and we are having a talk. Go sit down. You should be thankful your dad isn't here or you would have a warm butt instead."
"Girls are no fun except Kira and Nomi," Michael pouted. "How come you didn't have more boys?"
"That's just the way things turned out, sweetheart. We've been through this before."
"I miss Papi."
"I know you do. But his job requires him to be gone a lot, remember?"
Michael nodded. "Uh huh."
"Still, honey, it doesn't give you an excuse to torment your sister all the time. Why do you bother Mac so much anyway? You get along so well with Kira and Naomi."
"Because Mac is crabby," Michael replied. "She used to be nice when we were little."
Montana smiled a little. "Michael," she began, "Mac is growing up. She's in her last year of high school and will be going off to college next year. She's more into things at school and boys her age, things like that. When you grow up like her, you'll have different things you'll be interested in too."
"Kira has friends her age too," he protested, "but she isn't crabby. She's nice to me and Nomi."
"Kira has a whole different personality," Montana chuckled. "But no more bothering Mac, all right? I want you to sit here and think about it a little more and then you can go play."
"Can Leif come over?" Michael asked.
"Let me talk to his mom and see," Montana nodded. "He's probably doing his homework right now anyway."
Meanwhile:
Mariah sat at the table and sighed, staring at the letter from Leif's school. God, Brian was really going to blow a gasket when he saw this, or maybe not.
It wouldn't be the first time they had gotten letters, emails or phone calls from school about Leif. From the time he had gone into first grade, though small, Leif was a scrapper and had been in constant fights, if not acting up in class or just clowning around.
In addition to a slight hearing difficulty, he was also dyslexic and had ADHD, despite showing early signs of being both atheletic and artistically gifted. Even with his limitations, Leif made decent grades, though he did struggle in math and reading, but he had a tutor to help him along.
Now his teacher had sent home a letter, saying Leif was having problems seeing the board and sitting too close to the computer monitors.
Oh God, she thought. Would it ever end with this boy?
Leif was barely nine years old and it seemed like she and Brian had already been through a lifetime with that child.
They hadn't had any more children after he was born; it had been too close of a call when Leif had been born early after the accident. The idea that their son was even alive at all was a miracle in itself, and other than his few present disabilities, he seemed to be high functioning. With the right environment, it was likely Leif would live as normal a life as possible after all.
Being friends with Michael seemed to be a good influence on him, even though Michael had gotten his own father's sense of protectiveness and Latino temperment and had his own moments of being a firebrand.
Still, Mariah figured she had better get in gear and make an appointment with an eye doctor; she phoned Leif's pediatrician. It could have been worse than her son possibly needing glasses; at least this time, he wasn't fighting with someone.