Just One Of Those Days

            Mardi rushed into the kitchen, briefcase in one hand and a deep scowl on face.  Isabella sat at the small table munching on a piece of toast.  "Are you about ready?" her mother called out without even looking.  She'd already gotten used to the fact the girl could hear her now, at least while wearing her HALO.  She went over to the counter and poured a mug of coffee, the second of the morning in fact, though she'd never gotten so much as a sip of the first.

            "Mom, can I ask you a question?"

            "Only if you can ask it while we're on the move.  I'm going to be late!"

            "Relax Mom, you are the boss you know."

            Mardi turned around and leveled a gaze at her child, light of her life, reason for her existence.  "For your information, that only means I have to be even more responsible, not less."  She brought the coffee mug to her lips and took a hurried gulp, feeling the scalding liquid scorch her tongue and palate.  "Oh damn!" she cried spitting the mouthful of sepia liquid out into the sink. 

            "Are you okay Mom?" Isabella asked with concern.

            "No!  I've had a splitting headache since I woke up.  I had to go through three pairs of stockings – you would think in this day and age someone could invent run-free nylons," she muttered absently.  "And then to top everything off I had to change my outfit because I spilled a cup of coffee all over it."  She looked at her watch.  "And now I'm really going to be late."  She tossed the remainder of the coffee down the drain.  No amount of caffeine was worth this effort.  "Let's go!"

            "But I need to ask you something," Isabella replied beseechingly.  Sighing, Mardi rolled her hand in the air rapidly to encourage brevity.  "Okay, you know that big board meeting Dad's going to this afternoon?"  Mardi nodded and continued gesturing with her hand.  "Well I'd really like to go with him."

            "No.  Now that that's settled, let's…"

            "C'mon Mom, please at least think about it," Isabella practically whined.

            "Why?" Mardi sighed.

            "It's a huge deal, rumors have been flying over the web, and no one knows what Mr. Powers is up to.  And I'd really like to see Dad in action.  Well you know the other type of action he does."

            "I'm sure he won't want you tagging along."

            "He won't mind," she wheedled.

            "Well, I mind," Mardi said firmly.

            "You're just saying no because you're scared of Mr. Powers."

            "Can you think of a better reason?" Mardi asked quietly.

            "It's not like he'd do anything to me."

            "I'd rather not take that chance.  And a boardroom is no place for a child."

            Isabella huffed in exasperation.  "Well do you at least have any idea what it's about?"

            Mardi nodded firmly.  "Yes.  It's going to be about business.  Lots of business, and none of it yours.  Now move it!"  She tried ushering her offspring out the door.

            "Mom!" the girl called out shrilly.  "Someday it's going to be mine."

            "Yes, but for now you're thirteen.  Worry about calculus, not corporate takeovers.  Anyway," she paused and stared skeptically into the girl's eyes, "don't you have detention tonight?"

            "Noooo!  It was only last week," she mumbled.

            "Well good.  Now try to stay out of trouble for a whole month this time, maybe try for two, hmmm?"

            "It wasn't my fault!"

            "It never is," Mardi commiserated insincerely, placing a hand on Isabella's shoulder blade and maneuvering her through the door.

            "They dared me!"

            "And now I'm daring you to be quiet and move your butt to the car."   As they past through the grand foyer, Bruce was just coming down the stairs, watching the early morning processional.

            "I liked it better at the Academy," Isabella shouted peevishly, as she reached for the door.

             "We can always arrange to send you back."  As Mardi passed Bruce, she called over her shoulder, "You insisted we had to keep her."

            The halls of Hamilton Hill High School were almost impossible to traverse as hundreds of teenagers roamed, talked, cavorted, and lounged between classes.  Couples spoke in whispers with heads tilted together intimately, buddies jostled and joked with each other with boisterous glee while flirting with the occasional girl, and upper classmen asserted their dominance over the younger students.  Within the walls of the sprawling campus was an ecosystem of post-pubescent animals proving every one of Darwin's theories.

            Isabella Wayne and her friend Marie Wilson inched upstream through the mass of human bodies towards their lockers.  Every now and then Isabella would call out, "Coming through!  Give us some space" or "Move it deadbeat, you think you own the hall?"  She completely ignored the looks she received in return.

            "Can you believe Mr. McKenzie gave us a pop quiz first thing on a Monday?" Marie asked dolefully as they reached Isabella's locker.  They shared homeroom as well as several classes, including Ancient Civilizations, and had developed an easy camaraderie.  Marie was fourteen, a petite blonde-haired girl with perpetual worry on her round face and dread in her light gray eyes from having been the butt of multiple jokes in her short life.  She felt extremely fortunate that the new girl in school had actually taken a liking to her, not because she was rich, or because she had proven she wasn't going to be subjugated like the rest of the freshmen, but because she was always exciting and doing daring things, which she only got caught at occasionally.

            "Believe it?  I thought I was going to die!  That was just so wrong!" Isabella groused and slammed the locker door shut to punctuate her disdain.

            "But you always ace tests," Marie said.

            "Sure if I had actually bothered to read the chapter it would have been no problem."

            "Why didn't you read the chapter?  You had all weekend."

            "I was doing stuff," Isabella replied vaguely.

            "What kind of stuff?"

            "Stuff…with my dad."  She couldn't exactly tell her friend she spent the majority of the weekend in her family's subterranean cave inventorying batarangs, grapples, gas pellets, and the other various tricks of the bat-trade or that she'd been helping her dad fix the power coupling on the Batmobile.  Her mom would have a fit if she found out she'd blown off homework to do Bat stuff.  Heck, her dad would too.

            "Your dad?  Isn't he, like, old?" Marie asked timidly.

            "Well yeah, in the grand scheme of things he could be considered a little vintage, but trust me, he's got a lot of good years left."

            Marie nodded.  "Schway.  At least you do stuff with him.  My dad would rather watch whatever sports webcast is on."  She leaned over to look around Isabella.  "Hey, cute boy at twelve o'clock, and he's headed your way."

            Isabella whirled around and saw Terry moving towards her.  She felt her face flush and her palms started sweating as he smiled easily at her.  "Hi Terry," she said with a grin as he stopped next to her.

            "Hi, Bella.  I need to ask you something."

            "Sure, go ahead."

            "What are you doing this afternoon?"

            "Huh?"

            "After school – do you have any plans?"

            Isabella was almost giddy with anticipation.  Could he actually be asking her to do something with him, like a date?  She repeated a calming mantra in her head and regulated her breathing before answering, "Nothing at all.  I'm totally free."

            "Great!  Do you think you could sit with my little brother Matt?"

            Her mouth fell open.  "What?!"

            "My brother Matt.  He's only eight and I totally forgot that my mom won't be home till later today and had asked me to come straight home and look after him, but your dad's got that big meeting at Wayne-Powers to attend."

            "I know," she said with anger, but Terry was oblivious.

            "So I need to go over and pick him up as soon as I can after school lets out."

            Great, she thought miserably, he gets to go and I don't.  "You're asking me to baby-sit?"

            "Yeah.  Max would normally do it, but she's got plans with Jared and I don't want to ask her to break them."

            "You're asking me to baby-sit?"

            "I think we've already established that."

            "Why don't you ask Dana?" she asked trying to hold back her disappointment and resentment.

            Terry shrugged.  "She's got cheerleading practice.  Listen, it's only a couple of hours and I'll even pay you."

            Her eyebrows shot up.  "You're offering to pay me?  Have you forgotten my last name?" she asked arrogantly.

            "I was being polite.  Besides, you're not going to live off your dad's money your whole life are you?"

            "Go to hell!" she said and turned away from him.

            Terry grabbed her arm and pulled her back to face him.  "Hey I was only joking.  I just didn't think it would be such a big deal.  What's the problem?"

            "Nothing," she said quietly.

            "Then will you please do this for me?  I'll owe you one."

            "Fine."

            "Great.  I'll meet you out front after school."  With a nod to Marie he reentered the throng and disappeared.

            "Great," Isabella mocked as she turned back to her friend.  "Dana's got cheerleading practice and Max has a date so stupid ole me who doesn't have anything resembling a life can baby-sit the twip kid brother."  She crossed her arms and glared at no one in particular.

            "Hey it's okay," Marie tried to console her friend, but before she could go any further a body stumbled out of the mass of slow-moving pedestrians and hit Isabella in the back, knocking her forward to slam against the lockers.

            "Do…you…mind!" she yelled in anger, turning around to face the offender.  It wasn't even lunch yet and she'd already had enough of this crappy day.

            A boy stood before her, tall and slender, with dirty blonde hair and soft brown eyes hidden behind wire-framed glasses.  His cheeks flushed painfully red and he said shyly, "I'm really sorry.  Someone tripped me and I couldn't catch myself.  I hope I didn't hurt you too much."  His voice was soft and musical.

            Isabella reached up and rubbed her nose.  "I'll live, I guess."  Her irritation dissipated somewhat.

            He smiled in relief.  "That's good.  My name's Josh.  Diamante.  I think we have art class together."

            She took a moment to study him closer.  "You're the one who sits in the back and never says a word?"  He nodded.  "I'm…"

            "Oh I know exactly who you are," he interrupted.

            She pursed her lips together in annoyance.  "So much for keeping a low profile," she muttered.

            "Huh?" he asked in confusion.  "I just meant I know your name.  It's Isabella right?"  She nodded.  "That's a really pretty name," he said and flushed even deeper.  Isabella thought that if he kept up his head would erupt like Mt St Helens.  "Um, I was just wondering, you know that project we have to do, to, you know, sketch another person?  Would you consider being my model?" he managed to ask bashfully.

            "Me?" she asked and glanced over to Marie, who was suddenly very interested in the tattered poster for last week's dance.  "The project was to sketch someone of  'great importance to you'," she reminded him, assuming he'd missed the crucial piece of the assignment.  Isabella had already made prelim work on one of her dad.

            "I-I know," he said looking down and shuffling his feet.

            A light bulb flicked on in her brain, and things suddenly became clear.  "Ohhh.  Well…I don't know…if that…would be…um…"

            "Hey, I understand," he said quickly.  "I'll think of someone else.  Sorry to bother you."

            "No, no," she tried to assure him.  "You just caught me by surprise, that's all.  Actually I'm flattered you asked me.  I've seen some of your work.  You're very talented."

            "You think so?" he asked with a timid, but proud smile.  "I just know anything I draw of you will be great, because you're so pretty."  His eyes widened as he realized he spoke out loud.  "I'm so sorry…"

            "Don't be," she laughed.  She'd never been on the receiving end of a crush before.  And he was kind of cute in a large overgrown puppy dog sort of way.  "Never apologize for a compliment.  Look, I've already got plans this afternoon, but maybe tomorrow or the next day we can get together?"

            "Schway," he said breathlessly with a look of joy.  "Later."  He stepped back, waved goodbye, and then took off down the hall that was now closer to being deserted.

            Suddenly a shrill alarm sounded overhead.  "Oh, no," Isabella moaned.  "I'm going to be late for gym.  If I get another tardy that's going to mean more detention. Gotta go!  See you Marie."  Then she sprinted for the gymnasium.

            Marie hollered her goodbyes after the retreating figure and headed to her own class.

            After school Isabella met Terry and together they boarded the metro.  Two blocks away from his apartment building they disembarked and walked away from the station, stopping at the corner of his block.  Ten minutes later a brightly colored hover-bus stopped and several noisy, rambunctious children got off.  One dark-haired boy ran over to the pair.

            "I can't believe you actually showed up," the boy said to Terry.  "Who's this, your new girlfriend?"  Isabella snorted to herself.

            "No, twip, this is Isabella.  She's Mr. Wayne's daughter and she's going to watch you till Mom gets home.  Now come on.  I've got to get to work."

            "I don't need a baby-sitter."

            "No, you need prison guard.  Just try to be good."

            He herded them quickly into the building and to the McGinnis apartment.  Matt ran over and flopped onto the coach as Terry gave Isabella a quick tour.  He showed her the kitchen and told her to help herself.  Then he bid them both goodbye and left.

            Taking his words to heart, Isabella poked through the kitchen cupboards until she found a bag of potato chips.  She dumped them into a bowl and then joined the younger McGinnis in the living room.

            Matt was flipping through the web channels.  She plunked down beside him and offered the bowl of chips.  He shook his head.  Eyeing her suspiciously, he asked, "What's that thing on your head?"

            Isabella frowned and reached a hand up, patting at the top of her head with her fingertips.  "There's nothing up there," she declared finally.

            Matt rolled his eyes.  "Around your head doofus."

            "Oh that," she replied.  "That's my crown.  I'm a princess."

            "Are not," he said dubiously.

            "Am so.  My dad's the king of Gotham.  I was even named after a queen.  You may bow before me," she said royally and lifted her nose in the air.

            "Get out.  You're just a dumb girl."

            "Don't call me dumb, pipsqueak."  She looked at her wristwatch.  "Hey, my dad's gonna be on the web soon.  Give me the remote," she commanded.

            "No way.  It's my house, I control the remote.  Who wants to watch your dumb old dad anyway?"

            "I do and I'm in charge here.  Hand it over!"

            "Bite me."

            "You kiss your mother with that mouth, dreg?"  She lunged for him and he leapt out of reach.

            "Stop it!  I'll tell my mom!"

            "Tell her whatever you want nitwit, but if you don't give me that remote this instant I'm gonna smash you into a little greasy spot.  There won't be enough of you left to identify."  She leered and grabbed at him, but the eight-year-old was quicker and sidestepped out of her grasp.

            "You'll have to catch me first!"

            She chased him down the hall and into a bedroom where he vaulted over the bed and then skirted around behind her and back through the door.  She growled in frustration.  "I'm not kidding you little snot-faced creep, give me that remote RIGHT NOW!" she screamed as she tracked him back into the living room.

            He waited on the other side of the couch, dangling the object of contention in the air.  "Come and get it," he taunted.

            As she circled the couch he went in the opposite direction keeping pace with her.  When she turned to go around the other way so did he.  "I'm warning you," she told him as they eyed each other across the piece of furniture.

            "Na na na," he replied giggling.

            Refusing to let some little brat get the better of her, Isabella narrowed her eyes and feinted left.  He responded automatically by turning right to retreat and she dove over the back of the couch to tackle him, the two bodies rolling with momentum across the living room floor.   When they came to a halt Isabella was on top, easily subduing the smaller child.  She pinched him roughly on his side, causing him to squeal like a stuck pig, and then grabbed his arm and wrenched the remote out of his grasp.  She jumped up triumphantly.  "I am the champ!  You are nothing compared to my greatness!" 

            Matt was scowling and his cheeks flushed red as he slowly rose to his feet.  "Stupid girl," he muttered, rubbing his side.  "I'm going to my room."

            "If you promise not to come out I'll lie and tell your mom you were a perfect little angel."  Without reply he stalked off down the hall and she heard the satisfying slam of his bedroom door.  "Good riddance," she sighed and collapsed onto the couch with her feet dangling over the armrest.  She grabbed up the bowl of chips and shoved a handful into her mouth with one hand as the other dialed in the channel for the World Financial News Network. 

            The anchorperson was just finishing up with the latest stock quotes and then introduced the field reporter live from the boardroom of Wayne-Powers.  "Thank you.  The emergency stockholder's meeting at Wayne-Powers has elicited many rumors, but the general consensus is that CEO Derek Powers may be handing over the reigns to his son, Paxton, who arrived early this morning from South America, amid a sea of protesters claiming he was responsible for the pollution of hundreds of lakes and streams.  Mr. Power's has just called the meeting to order.  We are now taking you live."  The reporter moved out of the way and the webcam made a broad sweep of the large conference room as Derek Powers began to speak.  In the background one of the double doors opened and Isabella watched her father walk through and take his seat among the other chief stockholders.

            "Hi Daddy," she said softly, waving to the screen.  The webcam focused on Derek Powers as he announced his temporary hiatus for health reasons.   "Maybe he's going to have a heart finally put in," she grumbled, and then munched on some more chips.  Suddenly the webcam swung around to the doors where a group of men were making a loud disturbance.  One of the men had a basket in his hands and was speaking rapidly in heavy accented English about poisoned rivers and ruined livelihoods.  Then he lurched forward and sent the contents of the basket, which turned out to be dozens of dead fish, sliding across the large table.

            Isabella sat up straight and watched the action unfold before her.  Panic-stricken men and women leapt from their chairs to avoid the disgusting fish.  Security guards attempted to control the intruders.  A camera pan caught Powers at the other end of the room.  Isabella gasped at what she saw.  Lines appeared to crack around his eyes and smaller fissures were growing down his cheeks as if he were molting.  From beneath an eerie, sickening green glow pushed through.

            Without removing her eyes from the scene she groped for the side table and pulled the vidphone into her lap.  After couple of aborted attempts she finally managed to get the call to go through.

            "Hello?" the tired voice came from the unit.  Isabella glanced down and saw her mother looking haggard, hair stringing down into her face and dark circles under her eyes.

            "Mom!" she exclaimed.  "Derek Powers is Blight!"

            "Isabella, what are you talking about?  I don't have time for your jokes."

            "No joke, I swear I'm watching it on the web as we speak.  He's going nuts in the middle of the board meeting.  His skin's peeling right off.  Holy radioactive skeletons!"  Just then a furious Derek Powers pushed his way forward and gripped the man who had been holding the basket by his shirt, snarling at him.  The flesh of his human face had almost completely been shed and a glowing green skull sat in its place.  Isabella saw her father intervene on behalf of the stranger, and then… "Oh shit!"

            "Watch your language," Mardi said sharply.

            "But Mom, Powers just attacked Dad with some sort of fireball, but luckily, Ter…er I mean Batman," she corrected looking over her shoulder incase a snoopy boy had snuck out of his room, "showed up and saved him."

            Mardi looked into the vidphone's camera with barely concealed distress.  "Where are you?"

            "I'm at Terry's.  I'm watching his little brother."

            "Good.  Stay there until someone comes for you."

            Isabella started to protest, but when she looked down there was nothing but the blue stand-by screen.  "Crap," she muttered and switched the phone off.  On the web the station had switched back to the studio anchor who was attempting to describe the amazing events and while replaying the footage over and over.  "I never get to do anything exciting."

            Traffic came to a standstill three blocks away from the Wayne-Powers headquarters.  Lights of emergency vehicles of every kind could be seen bouncing off the neighboring buildings.  Mardi exited her car, leaving it unmindfully in the middle of the street, and made the remainder of the journey on foot.  Police had set up a perimeter around the entire block to keep the curious onlookers back at a safe distance.  However the overwhelming numbers of people drawn by the live broadcast and years of living as nothing but a shadow gave her the advantage.  Keeping her head down, she skirted the bulk of the growing crowd and crossed the boundary, walking swiftly and staying as much out of sight as possible.

            She managed to make it to the revolving front door and came face-to-face with a burly security guard, the letters W-P embroidered on his industrial blue shirt.  Thick arms crossed over his chest gave the impression that he was an unmovable mountain.  His face appeared to be cut out of solid granite and would give even the most courageous person a pause before confronting him.

            Mardi smiled as she approached the large man.  "How are you doing Joe?" she inquired politely.

            "I'm doing just fine, but you can't go inside, Ms. Purcell.  But I guess it's Mrs. Wayne now, right?"

            She nodded.  "If you know that, then you know my husband is up there."

            "Yes ma'am.  I'm sorry, but I have strict orders.  No one goes inside."

            "He could be severely wounded, possibly dying, and you won't let me go to him?  Please, I came all the way down here.  I need to see him."

            Joe's eyes darted over her head, looking back and forth, lips grinding together.  To no one in particular he said, "You were always very nice to me, Mrs. Wayne, not like most of the other big shots.  If I happen to be looking over here," he pivoted to his left, "I wouldn't be able to see someone slip behind me."  The words hadn't left his mouth and she had already pushed her way into the building's lobby.

            The main elevators were predictably shut down.  She cut across the deserted lobby and went through an inconspicuous door in a dark corner marked 'Maintenance'.  Down a short hall was a service elevator that operated on a separate generator.  She pressed the up arrow and in less than twenty seconds the doors opened to allow her access.  Once inside she pressed the button for the 50th floor.  She closed her eyes while riding the small box higher and higher into the air. A minute later she stepped out into a small room.  A door at the other end led out to the hallway.  She attempted to get her bearings as she stopped to look around, smelling the acrid residue of smoke, feeling as if she'd just walked into a war zone.  There was a gapping and crumbling hole twenty feet away in the wall separating the boardroom from the hall.  She ducked her way inside.  A bank of monitors on the opposite wall had been shattered, glass sprinkled across the floor like used confetti.  Overturned chairs, blackened walls, and broken tables completed the apocalyptic effect.

            Several people were receiving medical treatment from EMTs for a spectrum of cuts, bruises, and burns.  She recognized a few and nodded silent greetings.  In the far corner a young female paramedic attempted to treat an elderly man's forehead where a small wound oozed blood.  He easily dodged her hand and gave sharp orders for her to leave him alone.

            The medic was becoming increasingly frustrated with her charge.  "Please sir, will you please just let me take care of that?  It will only take a second."

            "Go away," he growled in response.

            "Why don't you let me give it a try," Mardi said, coming up behind the woman.

            She turned around unhappily, looking Mardi up and down, taking in her business attire.  "I have it under control," she replied coolly.

            "That's not what it looks like.  I certainly can't do any worse, can I?" Mardi pointed out reasonably, holding out a hand.

            "Fine," the medic said, slapping her supplies onto Mardi's palm.  "There are plenty of other people who can use my help."  She glanced back at her patient with one last look of disdain and moved off to help a woman with a raw scrape down her left arm.

            Mardi positioned herself in front of the sour-faced man and they locked eyes for a moment.  "I'm fine," he said eventually.

            "You're bleeding.  That is not a symptom of fine.  Now stop being a baby and let me clean that up," Mardi told him.  The medic shifted slightly where she was applying a bandage to the woman's arm, a vague smile visible on her lips.

            Bruce shrugged and allowed her to dab his forehead with a piece of gauze.  "What are you doing here?" he asked calmly.

            "You know, I was just in the neighborhood and got nostalgic for the old place.  Redecorating are we?"  He looked up at her, no hint of amusement in his cool blue eyes.   "Isabella called me.  She saw the whole thing on the web."  Her lower lip quivered minutely.  "You could have been killed."

            He reached up to grab her wrist.  "But I wasn't."  He stood up.  "Let's go home."

            Since entrance and egress were still prohibited to and from the Wayne-Powers complex, and since Bruce's car was in the Wayne-Powers garage, they started walking back towards where Mardi had left her own vehicle.  "Did you know she was babysitting?" Mardi asked as they strolled along.

            "Terry mentioned something about it."

            "I hope you have a lawyer ready to handle the lawsuit," she remarked.

            "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

            "I bet you fifty creds she made him cry."  She stopped when they had reached a boutique that specialized in hats and went by the name of  'El Chapeau'.  "Oh dear," she said absently.

            "What's the matter?  Have you forgotten where you parked?"

            She shook her head.  "I know exactly where I parked; right across from the hat store with the stupid name."  She looked out onto the thoroughfare that was now uncommonly empty, the motorists having long since been redirected to other routes through the city.  "But I wasn't exactly parked legally," she admitted.  "I must have been towed.  Or stolen."   She held up a finger to him.  "And don't you say a word!  This has just been one of those days, and I cannot wait to get home and end it already!"

            "What's there to say?" he asked.  "Let's go up a few blocks and get a cab."  He put a hand against her back.  "Maybe you need a vacation."

            Mardi bit her tongue to keep from replying.

            A shirtless Terry sat on the examining table of the Batcave as Bruce bandaged a nasty looking radiation burn on his right side.  "Mom's going to freak if she sees that."

            "Make sure she doesn't see it," Bruce responded.

            Both men looked up as Mardi came down the steps.  She walked over to the table and handed Terry a mug of hot tea.  "Here, this should make you feel a little better."

            "Thanks Mrs. Wayne," he said politely, though the last thing he wanted right now was anything hot.

            "So," she said uncomfortably.  "Powers – Blight – is gone for good?"

            "I don't see how he could have gotten away," Terry replied.

            "Anything is possible," Bruce said quietly.  "Unless you see the body, assume the worst."

            The other two people regarded him for a moment.  "Then he may be back," Mardi said uneasily.

            "I doubt you have anything to worry about," Bruce told her.

            She smiled lightly.  "I'm not worried he's going to come after me.  I'm sure I'm at the bottom of his list now."  She frowned then and turned to Terry.  "But you, and his son, I'm sure he's going to want revenge eventually."

            Terry hopped of the table and grabbed his shirt.  Slowly and painfully he pulled it over his head.  "I'm not worried.  I can take him again if I have to.  And as far as Paxton goes, he made his bed, he can be buried in it as far as I'm concerned."  He shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his backpack, then headed towards the cave exit.

            "Terry," Mardi called after him.  "How's your brother?"

            Terry turned and frowned.  "I don't know what she did to him, but he's got a welt the size of a baseball on his stomach and he's had nightmares for the past couple of nights."  She shook his head sadly.  "Mom says Isabella can't watch him anymore.  Sorry."

            Mardi just smiled at him.  "I think that's for the best."  Then she looked a Bruce.  "You owe me fifty creds."