Taylor skips through the weeds in the front yard, her princess dress flaring out whenever she spins. "I'm a little teapot, short and stout; here is my handle and here is my spout," she sings into her little plastic microphone. "When I get all steamed up, hear me shout: Tip me over and pour me out."
Shelby grins at her, using a power-washer to clean the front porch of the dirt and leaves that have collected on it over the years; it's more like a wooden stage than a porch, wide and fairly close to the ground. "You're doing great, Tay," she praises, almost having to shout over the noise of the washer.
"I am a very special pot, it is true. Here is an example of what I can do—I can turn my handle into a spout. Tip me over and pour me out!"
"I'm off to town," Matt says as he comes outside, easily jumping over the stream of water. "Anyone want to come with me?"
"I do!"
"I don't," Shelby says, scrunching up her nose and turning the power-washer off. "I still have to finish painting and I want to get some yoga done." Matt gives her a quick peck on the lips, Taylor making a face and turning so she doesn't have to see it. Grown-ups kissing each other is nasty to her, she doesn't get why they can't just hug instead. Hugs are great, they make her feel all warm and cuddled.
"Uncle Matt," Taylor whines," let's get this road on the show!"
"Alright, Princess," he laughs," I'm comin'." She still hasn't turned around and a surprised squeal leaves her when he scoops her up in his arms unexpectedly. "What do you think? Should we stop at the Dollar Tree and find you a new doll?" She gives him the best serious look a little girl can manage, crossing her arms over her thin chest.
"Uncle Mattie, I have enough dolls."
"Is that right? Does that mean you're too old for cool toys then?" Her gray eyes go wide at the thought of no more toys, shaking her head rapidly back and forth.
"No, no! I need toys, I just don't need no dollies!" Matt laughs again, planting a loud kiss on her forehead. "Do you think the Dollar Tree here has any Playdough?" Matt frowns, sending a quick look at Aunt Shel before looking back down at his niece.
"Sorry, they stopped selling it because too many little girls were letting it melt and then getting it all in their hair." Taylor feels her tummy lurch, tears stinging her eyes as she realizes what must have happened. She'd done exactly that two weeks ago when they were all still in California, gotten the bright purple Playdough all in her hair 'cause she wanted streaks like her cousin.
"Did Santa tell on me," she asks in a hurt voice, bottom lip wobbling. Her daddy had told her that Santa was always watching to make sure she belonged on the nice list, but what if he had snitched on her the one time that she made her daddy want to pull his hair out? "Am I on the naughty list now, Mattie?"
"No, honey, of course not." He looks as panicked as she does, turning so they can both see Shelby. "Baby, tell her Santa didn't sell her out. Tell her before she starts bawling." Aunt Shel comes over and brushes some of Taylor's hair behind her ear, her touch gentle like Mommy's had been.
"I promise that it's not your fault," Shelby says seriously, making sure to look Taylor right in the eye. "Some other girl's daddy probably called the Dollar Tree and told them about what happened to his daughter and it just so happened that she had the same problem you did. I'll bet Santa knows you were just playing around and he kept you on the nice list since you're such an awesome kid." Taylor gives a sigh of relief at that, her tummy no longer feeling like it's all tied up into knots. "Your only job today is to make sure your darling uncle doesn't forget anything on his list. Think you can manage that?"
"Yep," she confirms, nodding confidently as her nerves start to fade away.
"That's good. Now, you two better get on the road before this weather gets bad." All three of them look up at the overcast sky, the fat, gray clouds almost hiding the sun from view. Taylor likes these kinds of days because it gives her the excuse to curl up with her favorite blanket and watch Aristocats with her teddy bear.
Uncle Matt hefts her up in his arms better and starts for the truck, letting her crawl in on his side and slide to the middle so that he can get in.
"Can I see the list?"
"Sure thing, kiddo," Matt says, pulling the folded slip of paper out of his pants pocket. It's crinkled from being shoved in there beside his wallet and the writing is tiny, but Taylor can still make out some of the words. She definitely recognizes the word wallpaper since her mommy had bought new wallpaper for the kitchen three months ago, before she got really bad. They'd picked a peach color with little tea cups sketched on it in black, the design perfectly fitting that café theme Mommy had decided on when they first moved in.
"What do you need wallpaper for?"
"I was thinking of turning that attic room into a space for all your toys."
"Can we get a princess wallpaper?"
"If they got it, then we'll hunt it down for you." She beams up at him as he fastens her seatbelt and then his own. "Can you read anything else on that list? I know there's another word you and I've been practicing." She turns her gaze back to the paper, scanning it until she finds what he'd meant. It's eleven letters long and weird-looking, but she's able to read it aloud after a second or two of whispering it to herself.
"Screwdriver?"
"That's right. And what's the one right below that?"
That practice continues all the way into town, Taylor able to make out three new words by the time they park in front of a store. She quickly scrambles out after her uncle, taking his hand obediently as they head inside. The store isn't very big and there are lots of tools hanging on the wall and set up on the shelves, Taylor able to spot the screwdrivers just beside the door.
"What's this place called?"
"It's a hardware shop, they sell all the tools we'll need to fix up our house." Taylor makes a noise of understanding, remembering the times she'd gone with her mommy to one of these places in California. Her mommy was really good at fixing things and she used to joke that the only thing Daddy could fix was his hair. "Hey, why don't you go get me one of those pencils over there?" She looks to where he's pointing further down the aisle, then gives a nod and runs off.
They're in a little box on a low shelf, sitting right next to little packages of round pieces of metal with a big hole in their middles. She picks one up, studying it curiously for a moment. "W-washer," she reads to herself," washers." Her nose crinkles as she looks it over, shaking her head. "What the heck do you wash with this thing?"
"Taylor, come on."
"Coming!" She sets the washer back in its box and grabs one of the wide pencils before hurrying back to her uncle and handing it over. "What's next?"
"Screws." They go to the aisle with a big sign hanging over it, the number 6 written on it in white chalk. It doesn't take her uncle long to find what he's looking for, dropping the box of screws into his basket before moving on. Taylor is growing bored of the hardware shop as they continue to go from aisle to aisle, wondering why this place didn't have any toys or candy. "You okay?"
"I'm bored. Can we go to the Dollar Tree now?"
"Just let me grab the wallpaper first." She nods with a frown, following him around and dragging her feet. She just wants to go pick out her toy and go back home so she can play, but her uncle is taking forever. "Taylor Elizabeth Valiente," Matt scolds, turning to frown at her," if you don't stop the sulking, then I won't even go past the Dollar Tree on our way home. Understand?"
"Yes, sir." The wallpaper they decide on is pale purple with silver tiaras, the only girly wallpaper that was on sale besides the ugly green kind that reminded Taylor of mashed-up peas. After that, they're able to go to the counter and pay for it all, the woman working there making goo-goo eyes at Matt. Taylor doesn't like her.
"And who are you," the brunette woman asks, leaning slightly over the counter to get a good view of Taylor. "Is she your daughter?" Her gaze moves back to Matt, but she doesn't move anything else, making her boobs stick out like deflating balloons.
"Her name is Taylor," Matt says with a polite smile, keeping his eyes on the woman's face," and she's my niece."
"Really? You two look a lot alike." Matt and Taylor share a look, brows furrowed as they search for anything they share besides attitudes. He's only her uncle by marriage, so they share no physical likeness and it just makes it obvious that this woman can't tell the difference between a black man and a Cuban girl.
"Uh… Thanks?" She nods excitedly, like she's just paid them a compliment instead of showing how few brain cells she has left. "What's my total?"
"Oh, right." She pulls back and looks to the register, typing a few things before smiling at Matt again. "Thirty-seven dollars and eighteen cents." Matt pulls his wallet out and hands her the money, eager to get out before she asks him anything else. That's why Taylor likes her uncle, he's completely devoted to her aunt, like a Prince out of a fairy tale. The cashier hands him his change and receipt, unable to get another word out as he grabs the bags and ushers Taylor out of the shop ahead of him.
"What do you think?"
"I didn't like her," Taylor states honestly, letting her uncle put their stuff in the passenger's side of the truck. He lifts her up afterwards and she takes up her usual seat in the middle, buckling her seatbelt herself as he climbs in.
"I didn't either." She rests her head against his side as he starts the truck and pulls out of the parking space. He smells like the fancy cologne her daddy wears, meaning he'd used the stuff Taylor had picked out the other day because he knows she misses the smell of it. Uncle Matt's the best.
The Dollar Tree turns out to be just two blocks away, busier than the hardware shop had been, but not by much. The town is tiny and Taylor can't believe how people can live without a mall to go walking around in when they were bored.
"I was a really good girl on the way here, you know."
"I'm aware, Taylor."
"And I wasn't too bad in that dumb store."
"I guess you weren't."
"So does that mean I can have—"
"Ask for Playdough and we'll head home right now." She purses her lips but says nothing more as they get out and Matt leads the way inside. The store is tiny like the town is, all the shelves close together with toys piled up in some of the aisles; the fluorescent lights overhead keep flickering like they will go out at any moment. Taylor and Matt stand in the doorway for a moment, ignoring the old couple staring at them as Matt tries to find the aisle with the toys that won't break after five minutes.
"Over here." She tugs on his hand until he follows her over to the middle aisle where she's able to see outside toys. The left half is filled with the toys she likes, the right one filled with slippers and old lady shirts with the ugly floral designs on them. She scans the toys until she finds a sparkly blue jump rope, pointing at it with her head tilted back to look at her uncle. "That one, Mattie."
"Anything else while we're here?" She bites her lip as she thinks it over, then runs to the small rack of DVDs set up near the counter. They have different kinds all jammed together, but it still doesn't take Taylor long to find one she likes. It's a monster movie that used to scare her when she was a baby, but she's pretty sure she can handle it now. "Are you sure," Matt asks as he takes it from her. "It's not gonna give you nightmares?" Taylor gives him a look that can only be described as patronizing, patting his arm once he'd taken the movie from her.
"I'm a big girl now, Graboids won't scare me."
"If you say so." He picks out a movie for him and Shel before setting everything down on the counter. The person in charge of the register in this store is a boy with pimples all over his face and a Superman curl, working silently as he scans the toy and movies and stuffs them in a plastic bag.
"Excuse me," the old lady from earlier says as she comes over," but I've never seen you here before."
"That's because we've never been here before." Taylor scoots closer to her uncle, clutching at the hem of his shirt as the lady looks them over. "I actually grew up in the town down the road. I'm Matt Miller." He holds out his hand for her to shake, but she just looks down her nose at it like he's diseased. "Uh… This is my niece." The old lady turns her gaze to Taylor, not looking impressed.
"She's one of 'em Mexicans."
"I've never been to Mexico," Taylor says smartly, frowning up at the woman. "My mommy says there's bad people there and here that hurt others that didn't do nothing to them. Are you one of those people, lady?"
"Excuse me?"
"Are you a bad person that wants to hurt someone 'cause you don't like what color they are?" The old woman looks mortified and Taylor smiles up at her sweetly, taking her uncle's hand again. "Mommy said there's a word for people like you, she said you're called assholes." Matt snorts, holding his hand out for a high-five.
"Well, I think that pretty much sums it up," Matt nods, taking the bag and receipt from the cashier. "Have a nice day, ma'am." They're both smiling as they walk out of the store, Taylor glad she'd finally been able to use her first swear word. "Remind me to feed you ice cream for breakfast in the morning."
"Strawberry with whipped cream and sprinkles."
"Is there any other way to eat ice cream?" He lifts her up into the truck and follows suit, letting her hold the shopping bag while he begins to drive again. She pulls her new movie out to look at the pictures on the back of it, smiling at the two men dressed like cowboys and the giant worms that used to scare her. They're the size of cars and live under the ground, and they use sound to hunt since they're blind as bats. She's wondering if she can outrun one when a loud banging starts up, making Taylor let out a cry of surprise and grab onto her uncle's arm.
"What's that?"
"It's a hailstorm." She raises her brows, Matt laughing when he meets her stare. "Little balls of ice are falling from the sky."
"That's weird."
"That's North Carolina weather." She spends the rest of the ride watching the hail falling from the sky with wide-eyed wonder. If they have ice falling from the sky, then what other kind of funky weather did this state have? The worst bit of weather California usually gets is when the temperature dips below seventy, but that's even rare in the Christmas month.
With the combination of her restless night and the hail pinging off the roof of the truck, Taylor is fighting to stay awake not even halfway back to the house. Sleep is pulling at her and her grasp on her movie is growing slack, but she's nothing if not stubborn and refuses to fall asleep when she needs to explain to her aunt what hail is.
Most of it has cleared up by the time they make it back to the house, Aunt Shel waiting for them on the front porch. "Aunt Shel," Taylor calls, climbing over her uncle and jumping out before he even has the chance to undo his seatbelt. "Guess what we saw on the way back!"
"I-I don't know, what'd you see," she asks distractedly. Taylor doesn't protest as she's picked up by her aunt, but she does when Shel tries to hug Matt and ends up smooshing Taylor between them. She wriggles until she's set back on her feet, then points up at the sky proudly.
"I saw a hailstorm!"
"You saw it, too?"
"Yeah, it scared me at first, but Uncle Matt said it was just normal weather. I got a new movie, too!" But Shelby is focused on Matt, her arms wrapped tightly around him and her whole body trembling. "What's wrong, Aunt Shel?"
"That hailstorm…."
"What about it," Matt asks when Shelby trails off, pulling back so he can look at her.
"It was human teeth."