Donatello
I stretch in my sleeping bag, sit up and feel my age. Not that watching Rachel and her cousins grow hasn't reminded me every day that I'm getting older. At the same time, keeping up with the demands of parenting, and my role as both their primary educator and physician have kept me… spry, fresh, sharp? I suppress a groan. My neck, stiff from sleeping on the ground, may not agree with me.
The scent of coffee carries amid the chill of a mid-fall breeze, right into my nostrils. I can almost taste its bold-rich flavor. I glance at Michelangelo, lifting a carafe from the small coffee pot we'd packed on this excursion. He pours me a cup before I can ask.
"Thanks, little brother." I take a sip of the deep black brew, enjoying the bitter-yet-nutty flavor. A cursory scan of the campsite shows me three tents, still zipped tight. "All of them still asleep?"
Mike grins. "Ya know, kids don't really wake up to the smell of coffee."
I chuckle. "No, but something tells me you know just what to do."
"I got this," Michelangelo's head bobs, as he leans back and swipes his finger over the screen of his iPod. It's wired to a speaker that does not pop and crack to life, instead goes straight to belting out the lyrics to 'I'm Gonna Be'.
Noah and Gray's heads pop of out of the younger boys' tent, big smiles on their eleven year-old faces. They emerge from the pine-green enclosure, leaving both of Gray's brothers still inside.
"Good morning, Uncle Mikey, Uncle Donnie!" Gray chirps, as he follows Noah to where Michelangelo is frying breakfast meat, and eggs, on a Bunson burner. My subconscious laughs every time Noah and Gray do anything together. It's like Michelangelo multiplied, they both look so much like him, only Gray's eyes are… well, gray… and of course, he's one of Zoe and Raph's bunch.
"Morning, Dad," Noah says, shifting on his feet, while scratching his spring-green elbow.
"Morning, boys." Mike scoops scrambled eggs from a pan, onto two paper plates. "Want bacon?"
I watch as both boys load up their plates, and pour cups of juice so full I think they might spill over. Gray's sloshes over the lip of the cup, as he sidles over to the log, they've been using for a table. Noah follows. The two chatting, about the meteor shower we observed last night.
Apparently, their favorite part was still roasting marshmallows. Of course, nothing could beat that. I sip my coffee, just stopping myself from snorting in my cup.
The song ends and Mikey starts it over, setting it to repeat.
My eye ridges lift. That ought to irritate the rest of our lot. My gaze shifts to the girl's tent.
My daughter's yellow nail-polished fingers grip the bottom zipper as she opens the door, already complaining. "Really, Uncle Mikey, isn't there another song on your playlist?"
"Sure, lot's of'em, Rach. But this one," he looks at the forest surrounding us, "well it just fits. Cas' it sure feels like we've walked five hundred miles." He hands her an empty plate, which she accepts, but she wrinkles her nose as he motions to each the sausage and bacon.
Michelangelo knows them each well, and has asked her, just to see her make that face. He lifts the lid on the collapsible cooler and pulls out an apple and string cheese.
Her brown eyes sparkle, as a playful smile toys at the corners of her lips. She shoves a lock of red hair behind her ear then lowers her plate to accept his offerings. "Why are you always teasing me, Uncle Mikey?"
"I wasn't teasing. You never know. You could wake up one morning and decide that eating pigs is okay, and I won't judge you for that." He feigns seriousness, his blue eyes dancing with the same light they always have.
She rolls her eyes. "I've been a vegetarian since I was six. I don't think it's going to change today."
Mikey snickers. "Yep, I made all my major life choices by the time I was eleven, too."
Oh Mike, now you're heading for trouble.
I clear my throat right as Rachel's eyebrows shoot together, and her thin pink lips part. She glances at me and snaps her mouth shut, then snatches her apple from her plate and bites into it.
As Rachel sits at the opposite end of the log from the boys, movement in the tree line catches my eye.
A breeze rustles colorful leaves from branches that are preparing to slip into a winter slumber, but with that stirring the scent of jasmine drifts toward me.
"Rachel," I call to my daughter.
She looks over her shoulder, and raises her eyebrows. "Mmm?"
"Was Midori in the tent with you this morning?" I ask her.
Michelangelo leans toward the girls' tent then he glances in the younger boys. "Uh, D?"
Rachel's eyes narrow.
"Rachel?" I press, getting to my feet. This will be the second time this camping trip, they've been warned. My daughter points to her full mouth then holds up a hand as if she's helpless to speak for the food stuffed in it.
There's a churning in my stomach, my heart picking up pace. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that while Midori's not in the tent, and that it was probably her scent and movement I just caught, she's not gone as far as the first time.
Still, I find my teeth clenching, as I push back the boy's tent flap and find Hisao is gone as well. It's the damn sneaking around that gets under my shell. Kei bolts upright, slamming a book shut and shoving it under his pillow.
His brown eyes dart around before meeting mine. "Good morning, Uncle Dona—Don—Donnie."
I try not to roll my eyes, but he's a guilty mess. I hold out a hand. "Hand it over, Kei. You know your parents don't want you reading such serious material at your age."
Kei flashes me a nervous, gap-tooth grin and I try my best not to smile. His olive-toned cheeks flush just beneath his eyes. His shoulders slump as he reaches under the pillow. He hands me his copy of Huckleberry Finn, but as I open it I find the book cut out, holding folded internet printouts containing animal and human genetics research instead.
The boy may be Raph and Zoe's child, but he takes after me more than my own daughter. Problem with that is, he wants to research… us. While Zoe and Raph just want him to enjoy being a kid.
I challenge him with extra studies, but after he near exploded the kitchen— Okay, he kind of did. And Leo just barely got him out in time. Since then, I've had to choose his projects, oversee them, and monitor his access to my lab with diligence.
"Uh, D?" Mikey repeats, swallowing hard then looking from the girl's tent to me.
I turn to face Kei again, speaking to Mikey as I hunch inside the boys' tent. "I know, I know, Midori and Hisao have snuck off to train again. I thought I saw her just in the tree-line. I don't think they went as far as last time." I peruse the pages Kei has printed off, select two that I think will be okay, and hand those back to him.
"Thank you, Uncle Donnie." He accepts them with eager hands and curious eyes.
"You're welcome. Next time, just let me review what you want to study. I will help you find the right material." As I pat his shoulder, Mikey crowds me in the doorway of the tiny triangle.
"D!" he yells, even though he's right beside me.
I close my eyes and take a breath. "Mikey, you don't have to yell. We'll find them, I don't—"
But Michelangelo interrupts me, "Drea's gone too."
My spine straightens, my heart picking up a strange, uncomfortable beat. Of the kids, three in particular get into the most trouble. Andrea, Midori, and— "Did you check Antonello's tent?"
"I don't think I want to," Mikey squeaks.
Dammit. I elbow my brother out of my way, stand, and take two steps to the only tent that remains unopened.