"Helloooo," said Michael as he walked in Charlie's classroom a few afternoons later.
"Oh, hey, Michael," Virginia replied. "You look like you got some sun. You been enjoying this weather?"
"Mm-hmm," he said, quickly turning away. Virginia was sitting on a child-sized chair next to the bathroom. A little girl was in the down-dog position right in front of her, with her tush facing her so Virginia could wipe. Both the little girl and Virginia seemed comfortable with this arrangement – all the kids did, really, when it was their turn – but Michael still hadn't gotten used to it. He felt invasive enough walking into the room where, at any given time, at least one kid had dropped trou to have his or her bum attended to. Definitely couldn't have a conversation with the attendant while she was doing said attending. He pretended to be absorbed by the kids' artwork on the wall opposite Virginia and the tush.
"There you go, Maddie. All done. Go get your backpack ready for when your mom gets here." The owner of the now-covered tush toddled off to the wall of little cubbies. Virginia took off the disposable gloves she was wearing and threw them in the garbage can next to her. "Michael, I wanted to ask you something if you've got a minute." Virginia glanced across the room at Charlie, who was playing with his archfrenemy, Coby, and hadn't noticed Michael.
"Sure."
"So you may have seen the sign in the front that next week is our Groovy Grown-Ups week."
"Yeah, I saw that. What is that?"
"Every day a parent or grandparent – or aunt or uncle," she said, smiling, "comes to the class for a couple of hours and joins us in our day. We try to keep to the basic routine because the kids are so comfortable with it, but we adapt it to whatever the parent wants to do. So, for example, during story time, the parent picks the book. And during outside time, the parent can make up a game or something and the kids can join if they want to."
"Ahhh," Michael said nervously, knowing where this was going.
"So I thought maybe you or Fiona would like to do it one day." Virginia smiled expectantly.
Michael grimaced. "Uhhh . . . listen, Virginia, we've managed to keep Charlie alive and pretty happy, but we're not kid people. Neither one of us has been with, what, twenty of them? We haven't even been with two of them," he said.
"Just sixteen," Virginia laughed. "Don't worry. The other teachers and I will be here the whole time. We'll do the hard stuff. We just like the kids to have some different experiences and get used to being around other grown-ups." She patted him on the back. "And you know, Michael, you're more of a kid person than you realize. You're great with Charlie. Remember how scared you were at the beginning? And look at you now. You're a natural."
Michael looked at this sweet woman. A woman who loved children and genuinely wanted to do the best she could for them. A woman who had shown him nothing but support and encouragement from the day she'd met him. His lips stayed together but spread into a warm smile as he exhaled through his nose. "All right, Virginia, if you're going to strong-arm me." The lips parted and out came the toothy smile.
She laughed loudly. "Well, you know, I hate to have to resort to these high-pressure tactics, but that's just how it goes sometimes."
"Can Fi and I do it together? I know you have confidence in us, but trust me, neither of us is equipped to do this alone."
"I disagree, but absolutely," she replied, patting his back again. "We do it in the mornings because that's when all the kids are here. Start around 9:30. What day do you want?"
"Uhhh, next week we could do it Monday or Friday. Your choice."
"Let's say Monday, then. Charlie's going to love it."
"Yeah, and if we're first, you've got nowhere to go but up."
Monday morning at 9:12, Fiona pulled into the parking lot of the school. Fiona was silent. Michael was silent. Charlie was silent. But he was asleep, so that didn't count.
The day had gotten off to a rocky start.
The rocky start began at 4:38 a.m., when Charlie burst into their room. Good news was they were asleep and nobody was tied to anything. Bad news was they were asleep and nobody wanted to be awake. Except Charlie.
"Hi, guys!" he'd said as he climbed over Michael, kneeing him in the ribs, to get to the middle. "Guys" was his new thing. Everything was "guys." Okay, guys? Let's go, guys! Guys, you ahgue too much.
"Charlie, what are you doing here?" groaned Michael.
"I woke up!"
"Clearly," Fiona muttered.
"You need to go back to your room, Charlie," Michael told him. "It's the middle of the night."
"Nooooo, I wanna stay hee-uh!"
"No, Charlie, you can't stay here. Do you want to go back to your room yourself or do you want me to take you?"
Charlie began to whine. No words. Just noise. Whiny, whiny noise.
"Oh, just let him stay here, Michael," Fiona said as she turned away and covered her ear with the pillow.
"Yah I stay hee-uh!"
"Thanks, Fi," said Michael flatly. "Appreciate the support. No, Charlie, I said you need to go back to your room, and that's what you need to do."
More whiny noise, then whiny bawling.
"Ughhhhhhhhhhh!" grumbled Fiona loudly into her pillow.
Wordlessly, Michael got out of bed, picked Charlie up gruffly, and walked to his room. Charlie kicked and screamed the whole way. Literally. As soon as Michael put Charlie on his bed, he jumped off and ran back towards Michael's and Fiona's room. He stopped screaming, which was nice, but of course the silence was short-lived. He started up again when Michael retrieved him and took him back to his room. Michael kept him in his arms, and Charlie kept thrashing.
"Charlie, stop it," Michael ordered sternly. He had to keep moving his head out of the way so Charlie couldn't hit it. With five weapons – four limbs and a head – the little boy was a formidable match for Michael. Unlike the other people who hit Michael, you see, Michael couldn't hit this one back. The best he could do was try to subdue him without either of them getting hurt.
But then Charlie pulled out a sixth weapon. His teeth. He bent his head down to where Michael's hand was holding his torso and sunk his teeth into Michael's thumb.
"Owwwwww!" Michael yelled. "GODDAMNIT, CHARLIE!" Reflexively, he shoved the threat out of his arms. Charlie landed on the bed. He was silent for a moment due to the surprise of it all. Then he began to wail. Loudly.
"Jesus CHRIST, Charlie! What the fuck?" Michael looked disgusted as he nursed his thumb with his own mouth.
Charlie kept wailing.
Fiona came racing to the doorway. "What happened?" Her voice was urgent.
"He bit me," Michael shouted over the wailing.
She assessed the two quickly, then turned to Michael. "Go," she commanded. "I'll handle it."
Michael marched out of the room. His eyes black were with fury.
He was sitting on the deck and staring blankly at the grass when Fiona came out fifteen minutes later. He didn't say anything as she sat next to him.
After a few seconds, she spoke. "He's in his room. He's calm. I doubt he's asleep. I told him he didn't have to sleep but he had to stay in his bed. I think he's looking at his Thomas books."
Michael nodded. Little nods.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
He continued to stare at the lawn. "I lost control."
She stayed quiet, hoping he would continue. But he didn't. "You said he bit you?"
"Yeah."
"It was from the pain, Michael. You reacted to the pain. And not being fully awake."
"Doesn't excuse it."
"It explains it."
"I don't care if it explains it, Fi. I can explain why my dad lost control. He was drunk. So what?"
"Michael, from what you've told me, your dad lost control all the time. He didn't lose it so much as he gave it away, I say. This is the only time you've had this kind of reaction with Charlie. It's from physical pain. You don't lose control when he's just being a shit. It's the pain. It was a reflex."
"What difference does that make to Charlie? Huh? All he knows is that I shoved him and screamed at him. That's what my dad did to us."
"That's not what your dad did to you, Michael. He kicked you and punched you and slapped you." Fiona's voice broke as she thought about someone kicking and punching and slapping her best friend, her love. Her Michael. "He ridiculed you," she said. "He belittled you. For years." Now her tongue was a knife, slashing through Michael's revisionism with each mean word.
Michael looked at Fiona, then turned back to the lawn. "I was furious," he said softly.
"I know."
"I don't understand why he bit me."
"Because he's two."
"Yeah, but what? What does that mean? He was mad? He wanted me to let go and he figured that would make me?"
"I don't know. I doubt he could tell you. He was out of control. He was primal."
"I could've kept going."
"But you didn't. You could've, but you didn't. Because you were in control, Michael. You were angry, but you were in control." She paused. "Everybody loses their patience, Michael. Most people lose it way more than you do."
"I feel so bad that I scared him." Michael's throat caught as he spoke.
"I know."
"He had the same look Jordan did in the car. That's what got me with Jordan. He looked scared like Charlie."
"Michael, listen. Jordan's not made of glass, and neither is Charlie. This was one time. He's going to be fine."
Michael took and released a big breath as he looked to the sky.
"Can we go in? Possibly get another few hours of sleep?" she asked. She stood up and offered her hand down to him. He took it and hoisted himself up.
Fiona fell back asleep quickly.
Charlie fell asleep at 6:30.
Michael didn't sleep.
They got Charlie up about five minutes before they needed to leave, though he never fully woke. Michael plunked him on the toilet and kept him from falling in as nature and gravity did their thing. Then he got him dressed, marveling at how much easier it was with a near-comatose toddler. Fiona packed a little breakfast for him to eat at school.
Charlie fell back into a deep sleep immediately after Michael buckled him in his seat. Fiona and Michael could talk if they wanted. Nothing was going to wake that kid up. But they didn't, because they were still sulking from an argument.
Some of Michael's and Fiona's arguments concern important stuff. Priorities. Balance. The future.
This was not one of those arguments.
It'd started when Fiona couldn't find the frozen waffles. Charlie loved them and ate them frequently, so they were always close at hand. Except now.
"Are we out of waffles?" she called from the bowels of the freezer at the bottom of their refrigerator.
"I don't think so."
"Where are they?"
"In the breakfast section."
Fiona emerged from the freezer. "What?"
"The breakfast section," Michael answered, walking into the kitchen.
"We have a breakfast section?"
"Yeah."
"Since when do we have a breakfast section?"
"Since . . . I don't know, since whenever I organized the freezer. Saturday? Yeah, Saturday. I couldn't find the shrimp. I had to take everything out, so when I put it back in, I organized it."
"But we use waffles all the time."
"And?"
"And they should be in the front where we can get them easily."
"We use the vegetables and chicken and fruit bars all the time, too, evidently, because they were all on top of the shrimp."
"Right, because we never eat shrimp."
"We did on Saturday."
Fiona closed the freezer and glared at him. "Where the hell is the breakfast section?"
"In the drawer." Their freezer had a wide, shallow drawer that slid out above its cavernous base.
"But that's a pain in the ass. You can't get your hands all the way back there. That's why we use it for stuff we eat four times a year."
"Why would they make a refrigerator with parts you couldn't reach?"
"Michael, I'm fighting the overwhelming urge to punch you. Soon I'm not going to fight it."
"What? What's so difficult? Breakfast is the first meal of the day, so I put breakfast in the first part of the freezer. Meats and bread are in the bottom on the left and fruits and vegetables are on the right. That way we always know where stuff is, no matter what we happen to have been eating before then. Oh yeah, desserty stuff is in the rack along the door."
"Oh, you mean the rack where we KEEP THE WAFFLES?" She yanked the freezer door open and pulled the top drawer roughly. "Should I ask where the almonds are?" she snapped, rummaging around.
"They're a protein, so they're with the meats. It's just logical, Fi. I don't know why you're so pissy about it."
And that's why everyone was silent in the car.
By the time they reached the classroom, Michael and Fiona had pulled themselves together, and Charlie was fully awake. Michael took a deep breath as Fiona opened the door.
Virginia and the two other teachers, Teresa and Claudia, were in different areas of the room, keeping an eye on things and intervening when necessary. "Hey!" Virginia called, striding to the door. "Hi, Charlie! I'm glad to see you!" Charlie wrapped his arms around her legs, then ran off to hang his backpack on his hook.
"I'm so happy you could make it today," she said, smiling. "The kids are so excited. We've been talking about Groovy Grown-ups for a week now."
Michael and Fiona just smiled and nodded apprehensively.
"All right, so, last year we figured out that we should label the kids so you'll know their names. So they've all got a nametag on their shirt." She noticed the thermal, soft-sided Cars lunch box (now a breakfast box) Fiona was carrying. "Is that for Charlie?"
"Yeah, he slept late so he hasn't eaten breakfast yet."
Virginia took the little case and opened it at a low table. "Hey, Charlie, you wanna have your breakfast?" Charlie scampered back over to the table. "How come I eat bekfest here?" he asked, furrowing his brow as Virginia unpacked the food.
"You remember you were up in the night?" Michael said. "You were up and then you went back to sleep until right before it was time to leave for school, so you didn't eat breakfast at home." Charlie nodded as he crammed a too-big bite of waffle covered with peanut butter into his mouth.
"Fiona, you can leave your purse over in that corner if you want," Virginia told her, pointing.
"Actually, do you have some place I could lock it up?"
"Uhhh . . . yeah, sure. We've never had any problems with theft, but that's fine."
Fiona watched Virginia unlocked the cabinets mounted high on the wall. She wasn't worried about anyone stealing her wallet. She was worried about a kid finding the gun she had in her purse. That was something she and Michael agreed on. No matter how normal their lives had gotten, they refused to be out with Charlie without protection. Even if that meant sneaking a Walther PPS into a preschool. Michael had left his own pistol in the glove compartment since he'd have to carry it on his body. A body a toddler might jump on.
Virginia locked the cabinet once Fiona deposited her purse. She looked around and counted silently, pointing as she counted. "All righty, we're waiting on a couple more kids, so just make yourselves comfortable." Michael and Fiona looked around to confirm there was no adult-sized furniture. "Maybe not super comfortable," Virginia laughed.
"It's no problem," Fiona said as she and Michael lowered themselves onto two little chairs at Charlie's table. Michael watched Charlie shove the rest of the waffle in his mouth. He couldn't close his lips around it. Michael closed his eyes and shook his head.
Charlie reached for the banana Fiona had packed. Waffle still hanging out of his mouth, he tried to peel the banana, but the stem proved challenging. He grunted as he kept trying.
"Want some help, Charlie?" Michael asked.
"No," he said through a mouthful of waffle. He continued to struggle.
"You sure?"
"No I do it myseff." His way of doing it himself was to maul the body of the banana as he squeezed it with all his might. Finally, it broke in half. Charlie dropped one half on the table and started digging the flesh of the other half out with his grubby little fingers. How they'd gotten grubby since his shower last night was a mystery. Fiona interlaced her fingers behind her neck and rested on her elbows on the table as she watched the train wreck formerly known as breakfast. Michael just looked around the room. He noticed a new display on the far wall and went to examine it.
Large, cut-out, red letters spelled I AM SPECIAL in an arc. Below the arc were sixteen 4"x6" pieces of construction paper in assorted colors. Each one had a kid's photo glued on and some adult handwriting. He read one of the signs.
My name is Maddie. My favorite color is pink. My favorite thing to play is dress-up. I like to eat strawberries.
Another one:
My name is Trey. My favorite color is red. My favorite toy is cars. I like to eat candy.
Michael's jaw dropped a little as he realized the teachers had helped each kid create an autobiography. Preschool teachers created an exhibit to celebrate each kid and tell them they're special.
When Michael was a child, nobody told him he was special. They told him he was a juvenile delinquent.
He read some more:
My name is Coby. My favorite color is blue. My favorite thing to do is play chase. I like to drink chocolate milk.
My name is Vivienne. My favorite color is rainbow. My favorite game is hide and seek. I don't like to eat carrots.
My name is Andrew. My favorite color is orange. My favorite thing to do is run. I like to eat.
He chuckled as he imagined Andrew meeting Sam and Jesse for an eating extravaganza. And he felt his eyes water when he read Charlie's:
My name is Charlie. My favorite color is green. My favorite thing to do is play with Uncle Michael. I like to eat waffles.
Virginia rang a little bell about ten minutes later. The hubbub in the room died down. "All right, friends, it's time to clean up whatever you're doing and then join me on the rug," she announced cheerfully. "You going on break?" she asked Teresa in a regular voice. "Yeah, I'll be back at 10," Teresa replied, walking out of the classroom.
Trying to stay unnoticed in the back of the room, Michael and Fiona watched in amazement – utter amazement – as every kid in the room stopped what he or she was doing and started putting things away. Even Charlie, who'd finished breakfast and was erecting a tall tower of blocks. Charlie, who won't clean up at home until Michael and Fiona are reduced to threats and exasperation.
The kids made their way to the large rug. Each of them had an assigned spot, Charlie had explained a while ago. His was on the starfish. Coby used to be next to him on the seashell, but the teachers had to separate them so their love-hate relationship didn't turn into a hate-hate relationship. Now Ellie sat on the seashell. Charlie was an Ellie enthusiast. He was fond of discussing Ellie at length. Ellie has nice hair. Ellie has a beautiful face. Ellie is the quietest friend. Ellie shares the sand toys outside.
Finally, two kids started acting like normal two year olds, scrapping over the same spot at the edge of the rug, next to a bookshelf. Claudia intercepted. "Jake B., this is Jake C.'s spot now. Remember you moved to the dolphin?" Jake B. appeared to remember but not approve of the move. "I don't wanna be on da doffin," he whined. "I wanna be on da cwab." "You chose to do some silly things with the books when you were on the crab," Claudia told him. "So you sit on the dolphin now, and Jake C. sits on the crab." Jake B. made his displeasure known as he stomped to the wretched dolphin on the other side of the rug.
Once everyone was on his or her spot, Virginia smiled and said brightly, "Good morning, friends!" "Good mohning, Miss Vuhginia," they answered, not in unison, in a high-pitched cacophony.
"Miss Ginia, my mommy is coming home tonight on an airplane!" a girl shouted. "That's wonderful, Vivienne," Virginia said. "She was in Costco," explained Vivienne. Virginia chuckled. "She was in Moscow, honey." Then the room erupted into excited shouts on top of each other:
"My mommy is awweddy home!" "I been on a aeh-pane before!" "My mommy is home, too!" "I go to Costco wif my daddy and my sistuh!"
And so on. Virginia was unfazed. "Let's sing our Shake Hands song." They joined her, not in unison and not in tune, as she sang, "Hello, hello, and how do you do? Shake hands, shake hands, with somebody new." The kids shook their friends' hands, the teachers' hands, and their own hands for a while.
Michael and Fiona looked each other. They didn't need to speak to agree that they would not be singing today. And, of course, they'd both made a mental note that Vivienne's mom went to Moscow. People like Michael and Fiona don't ignore things like that. They'd have Sam check up on it later.
After a few more songs, and an excruciatingly long exercise about what day, date, month, and year it was, Virginia said, "My friends, it's time for our very special guests. These are our first groovy grown-ups!" She looked over the kids' heads at Michael and Fiona and smiled. "Ready?" she asked them.
Fiona's hands grew clammy and Michael felt nauseated as they slowly made their way to the group.
"Friends, this is Charlie's aunt and uncle." Thirty wide eyes stared without expression at Michael and Fiona, who stood awkwardly and sort of half-waved. The other two eyes belonged to Charlie, who preferred to look at Ellie.
"Who knows what aunts and uncles are?" Virginia asked. Knowing exactly what was going to happen, she quickly said, "Let's raise our hands." Thirteen hands shot up into the air. "Maddie, what are aunts?"
"Your mommy's sister," she said.
"That's right. It's one of your parents' sisters. Doesn't have to be your mom. If your daddy has a sister, she is your aunt, too. Thank you, Maddie. Hmm. I wonder who can tell me what an uncle is." Hands waved urgently. "Ethan. What's an uncle?"
"I have an Uncle Brian!" he shouted.
"Wow!" Virginia answered with just as much excitement. "And who is he?"
Ethan looked perplexed. "He's my Uncle Brian!"
Virginia smiled. "I bet he's the brother of either your mom or your dad. Is that right?"
"I don't know," he answered. Now he sounded worried about the phantom uncle.
"That's okay, Ethan. Aunts and uncles are the sisters and brothers of your parents. Your aunt could be your mommy's or your daddy's sister, and your uncle could be your mommy's or your daddy's brother." Virginia waited as most of the kids blurted out stuff about their aunts, uncles, mommies, daddies, pets, etc.
When the buzz naturally dissipated, she spoke. "This is Ms. Fiona," she said, gesturing. "And this is Mr. Michael. Can we show them how happy we are that they're here?" She clapped, and the kids joined in with exuberance. "Thank you, friends. That was a very nice welcome." She stood up from her spot at the head of the rug. "You can have a seat right there," she said, and they did.
"I saw Mr. Michael looking at your All About Me signs a while ago, so he knows a little bit about you guys. Why don't we ask him and Ms. Fiona to tell us a little about themselves?" Virginia looked at them expectantly.
"Uhh . . . ." Michael said, then looked to Virginia for guidance.
"How about you tell us what your jobs are?"
For once, Michael and Fiona didn't have to lie outright about their jobs. "We are both teachers," Fiona said too loudly. "But we teach grown-ups. Not kids." Michael nodded and smiled nervously, grateful he didn't have to speak. The kids looked unimpressed.
"What do you teach in your class, Mr. Michael?" asked Virginia.
Nervousness turned to panic as Michael tried to think of an age-appropriate way to explain his class to two and three year olds. Special police officers, maybe? People who take care of our country?
"Cooking." He heard Fiona exhale softly, so he knew she was relieved he'd lied.
"Mmmm, that sounds yummy, right, friends?" The friends still didn't care. "All right, who would like to ask Ms. Fiona and Mr. Michael a question? Remember to use your most grown-up voice. Trey."
"Why are you Charlie's uncle?" a sandy-headed blonde boy asked.
Michael had fielded enough "why" questions from Charlie to know how to answer this one. "Because I'm his dad's brother."
"Okay." Trey looked satisfied. This time Michael exhaled.
"Who else?" Virginia said. "Yes, Anna."
"You have long hae-uh," she said, looking at Fiona.
"Yes, I do," Fiona replied. She looked at the little girl, waiting for a question that never came.
Virginia kept things moving. "Let's see, how about three more questions. Coby, then Andrew, then Ellie. Coby."
"Can you wun weally fasht?"
Fiona spoke first. "Me or him?"
"Uh huh," Coby answered.
"Oh. Okay," she said. "Well, yes, I think we can both run pretty fast. What about you? Can you run fast, Coby?"
"Uh huh."
"Coby, I saw on your paper that you like to play chase," said Michael, feeling a little braver. "Is that why you run so fast?"
"Uh huh and I chase weally fasht, too." He nodded his head solemnly.
"It's good to run fast and chase fast," Michael agreed.
"Your turn, Andrew," Virginia said.
"How fast can you run?" a lanky boy asked. He was a head taller than the next highest kid.
Fiona laughed awkwardly. "Wow, you all are very interested in running, aren't you? Hmm, let's see. I don't really know, actually. Michael?"
"I can run fast enough," he began, "to get away from," he paused dramatically, "a dragon." He felt proud when he heard the murmured oohs and ahhs from the group. "She can, too." He flicked his head toward Fiona.
Now the kids were interested. "But what if the dragon was breathing fire?" Sophia D. asked.
"Even if the dragon was breathing fire. We can run fast enough to get past the fire," Michael told her.
"But what if it smacked you with its tail?" Jake C. piped in.
"Now that I don't know about. You think we could outrun a tail-smacking dragon?" he asked Fiona.
"Well, I could," she said, "because girls rock. Right, girls?" She looked at them excitedly. They didn't know what she was talking about. "Anyway, Michael probably could, too. But I would beat him."
Virginia was laughing as she said, "Okay, Ellie, last but not least. What's your question?"
Ellie stared at Michael and Fiona and didn't say anything.
"Ellie?" Virginia prompted. Nothing.
"Do you have a question?" Fiona asked.
Ellie shook her head no. It seemed Ellie was, indeed, the quietest friend.
"That's fine," Virginia said. "Charlie, why don't you tell us some things about your Uncle Michael and Aunt Fiona?"
"Huuh name is Teefee," Charlie corrected her.
"He calls me Auntie Fi, but the an got cut off," Fiona said quickly.
"Oh, I see. Charlie? What would you like to tell us about your aunt and uncle?"
Charlie pondered for a moment. "Dey ahgue a lot," he said matter-of-factly. Michael and Fiona turned red.
"They argue a lot," Virginia repeated. "Okay. What else?"
He thought. "Dass all."
Virginia stifled a laugh. Michael and Fiona just kept smiling and nodding, unsure what to do next. Then came the sweet words of relief: "All right, my friends, it's outside time!"
Michael and Fiona trailed slowly at the end of the line as the kids headed outside. They'd been sure Charlie would want to stay with them – well, with Michael – but the love of an uncle is nothing compared to the love of Ellie. So now they thought they'd be able to be outside without actually interacting with the kids. But Coby had another idea.
Once everyone was outside, Coby doubled back to Michael and Fiona. "Less wun!" he shouted, bouncing with glee.
"Uhhh . . ." Fiona began.
"Less wun!" He pulled her hand and took off. She looked back at Michael, ordering him with her eyes to join in, but he pretended not to see her. Coby dragged her to a large part of the field free of playground equipment. "Catch me!" he yelled as he took off. Fiona ran a few strides, then stopped to pull off her 4-inch Stuart Weitzman wedges. She can run in 4-inch heels, but she saw no reason to do so on a playground. She tossed them to the edge of the field. By that time Coby was far enough away that she could make a good show of trying but failing to catch him. Except it wasn't a show. She tried but failed to catch him.
From the sidelines, Michael delighted in this turn of events. Of course, he knew he couldn't show his delight, so he bit his tongue and he shoved his finger, hard, into his thigh through the pocket of his jeans. Michael also knows a defeated Fiona is a vengeful Fiona. So he got ready to run as well, because he knew that's what was coming.
"I win I win I win I win!" cried Coby as he returned to the starting line, which was Michael. Fiona ran up two seconds behind him, huffing. "Wow, Coby," she panted, "you sure are a fast runner." She put her hands near her knees and lowered her head, trying to get the oxygen back. "I bet you want Michael to chase you now, huh?" She grinned.
"No you again!"
Michael bit his tongue again and jammed his finger into his leg even harder. Do not laugh, he told himself. Do not laugh do not laugh do not laugh.
"Ooh, Coby, I have a better idea," Fiona said mysteriously. "You wanna play a game with everyone? And we'll play, too?"
"Yesh!"
"All right, let's go find Ms. Virginia." Once Coby couldn't see her, she kicked Michael in the calf. He winced. Even Fiona's toes are strong.
"What are you doing?" he asked nervously.
"You'll see."
They arrived where Virginia and Teresa were standing. (Now Claudia was on break.) "I've got an idea that might be fun for all the kids," Fiona said.
"Wonderful! What?" Virginia asked.
"Do they know how to play Capture the Flag?"
Michael tilted his head back and took a deep breath.
"Oh, I'm sure they could handle a simple version of it," replied Virginia. "How do you want to split them up?"
Fiona looked at them. "Hmmm, doesn't seem to be a clear division. However you want is fine."
"All right. We've got some colored scarves inside we can use. You two will be captains?"
"Yes, that's right." Fiona looked at Michael, who refused to look at her.
While Virginia and Teresa gathered everyone up, Fiona got her game face on. "All right, Mr. Teacher, let's see how good you really are. Surely you can teach eight toddlers a game of strategy and tactical precision."
"Oh, and you can?"
"Better than you, that's for sure."
"Pffbt," Michael spat. "Whatever."
"Ordinarily just the bragging rights would be enough for me, but you weren't forced to sprint in high heels, and for that you must be punished. Winner gets to choose all sexual acts for a month. Deal?"
"Fi . . ."
"Nervous?"
"No, I just don't want to hear you complain for a month when you don't get your pick."
"Oh, please," she sneered.
"But you know what? It's okay. I'll be sure to let you have a lot of picks, too." He patted her head gently.
She closed the small gap between them like a snake waiting to snap its prey. "Michael Alan Westen," she said in a sultry whisper, "this . . . means . . . war." And then she tweaked his nipple. Not gently.
Author's Note: I'm a good chunk of the way into the next chapter. Soon you'll see how Michael and Fi play Capture the Flag. Please keep the comments coming! They make me feel great.