1964
On April 7, 1964, Meara gave birth to another boy. They named him Fitzgerald Kennedy McGrath. Reilly immediately dubbed him Boo. Meara did everything she could to keep Reilly from calling the baby by that name. She blamed Gil since he was the one who read uTo Kill A Mockingbird/u to both Reilly and Greg in the months leading up to Fitz's birth. Gil merely laughed and said at least she acknowledged her little brother. When told by her parents that she would be a big sister again, she announced she would not accept anything other than a sister.
In June, they moved to Portugal. Both Greg and Reilly celebrated their fifth birthdays on the base. They picked up Portuguese as quickly as they did German. Meara and Blythe enrolled them in the school on base. Both children absorbed knowledge like a sponge absorbs water.
One afternoon in December, Greg stomped into the house and threw his books on the kitchen table.
"What's wrong, Greg?" Blythe asked. She sat on the couch in the tiny living room knitting a new sweater for him.
"Nothin'," he scowled as he stomped off to his bedroom. Blythe flinched when he slammed the door.
Putting her knitting in the basket beside the couch, she got up and went into his room. He lay face down on the bed, legs splayed and his head buried in his arms. Blythe sat down next to him and stroked his back.
"You know we don't slam doors around here," she reminded him softly.
"Don't care."
"What happened?" she asked.
"Girls are stupid. Especially that dumb old Reilly."
"Reilly is just as smart as you. Why do you think she's stupid?"
He rolled over and sat up. Pushing his light brown hair out of his clear blue eyes, he looked at her. "She's supposed to be my best friend. 'Cept today she played with a bunch of dumb girls at recess. She knows she's supposed to play with me. None of the other kids will play with me."
"Did she ask you to play with her and the other girls?"
Greg rolled his eyes. "I'm not playing girl games with a bunch of other girls. Jeez, Mommy."
Blythe suppressed a smile. "So what did you do?"
"I told her she was a moron and played by myself. She got mad at me, Mommy! I didn't do anything wrong and she yelled at me in front of all the other idiot kids. I'm going to get me a new best friend. And not some dumb girl, either."
"Well, telling Reilly she's a moron probably hurt her feelings. I know it would hurt mine. Why don't we go next door and talk to her?"
"No."
Blythe got up and smoothed her dress. "Okay. You need to change your clothes. Do you have any homework?"
"I did it at lunch. It's too easy."
Blythe knew that was true. Both children completed all their schoolwork in record time and were more advanced than their classmates. She also knew Greg told the other children they were morons and idiots. That combined with his massive intellect made the other children dislike him.
"I'm going to start dinner," she told him. "You can dust and sweep the floors."
Greg muttered something under his breath but got off the bed as she left the room.
When John arrived home, the house was immaculate and dinner was ready to be served. They all sat at the kitchen table and Blythe could see that John was angry. He took a few bites of the chicken she baked before looking at Greg.
"Your teacher called me in to see her today," he growled as he looked at Greg. "You've been insubordinate again. Last week, I ordered you to stop calling the other children names yet you disobeyed me. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Greg shrugged and shoveled some peas into his mouth. John reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
"You respond when I ask a question, soldier!"
Greg turned to look at John with thinly disguised contempt. "I'm not a soldier. I'm a kid."
"Go to your room!"
Greg's lip curled in disgust. As he got up, John reached out and slapped him hard. A red mark blossomed on his cheek in the shape of John's hand.
"John!" Blythe gasped.
"Stay out of this," he snapped. He grabbed Greg and pulled him to his room. He returned to the table and dumped the food on Greg's plate in the trash before putting the plate in the sink. Then he sat down and finished his own dinner. Blythe ached to go check on her son. She'd never seen John so angry. He scared her.
When he finished eating, John got up and went into the living room to read the paper and listen to the news on the radio. Blythe quietly cleaned up the kitchen and fixed a chicken sandwich for Greg. She filled a glass with milk and started to carry them to his room. John looked up at her.
"He doesn't eat."
Blythe swallowed. "He's a child…."
John moved across the room, grabbed the plate and slapped her. "Never disobey me again." He took the plate into the kitchen and Blythe stood in the middle of the room holding her cheek. John stomped past her and came back a moment later dragging Greg by the arm. He opened the back door, pushed Greg out, closed it and locked it. Then he turned on Blythe.
"He's sleeping outside tonight. Maybe then he'll think twice about disobeying me. Now go to bed. I'm sleeping out here to make sure you don't let him in."
In that moment, Blythe hated him more than she ever hated anyone. She wanted nothing more than to leave him. However, she knew she had nowhere to go so she and Greg were stuck. Silently, she went into their bedroom and locked the door.
Reilly looked out her bedroom window at the full moon. Then she looked around and saw Greg lying on the patio next door. Silently she got up and listened at her bedroom door. Her parents were talking so she closed the door and crossed the room to her bed. She arranged several of her stuffed animals under the covers on her bed. If her parents looked in, it would appear she was in bed asleep. Then she grabbed the extra blanket from the chest in the corner of her room and crawled out the window. Stealthily, she crept across the lawn until she was on the House's patio. Greg lay curled up, shivering slightly. Without a word, she lay down next to him and covered them both with the blanket. He pressed up against her as if trying to absorb as much of her warmth as possible.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"He thinks I'm a soldier. I disobeyed a direct order. I hate him."
"I'm gonna tell Daddy."
"No!" he whispered harshly. "Just...just stay with me."
"Okay."
He was silent for a few minutes. Finally, he whispered something so softly, Reilly couldn't hear him.
"What?" she breathed.
"I'm sorry. You aren't a moron. I was just mad you played with those girls. You're mine. Not theirs."
"Why can't I be both?"
"I don't wanna share you," he sighed.
"But I'm a girl and I like doing girl stuff sometimes," she whispered back. She shifted until she faced him. "You need a boy friend to play with."
"The boys here are morons."
"That's why they don't play with you, you know."
"That's what I have you for. Or I did."
"I will always be yours, Greg, but sometimes I want to play with girls and do girl stuff. That doesn't mean you aren't my best friend in the whole wide world."
"Girls are stupid." Then he laughed softly. "'Cept not you. You're not stupid."
"Good. Cause I wanted to punch you in the face today. And you know I can beat you up."
They both laughed and snuggled together for warmth. Within minutes they were both asleep.
At dawn the next morning, Blythe unlocked the back door and looked at Greg and Reilly curled around each other sleeping. She went to them and shook them awake.
"Go home before your mother realizes you're not in bed," she told Reilly. As the child got up, Blythe pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly.
"Don't worry, Aunt Blythe," Reilly whispered in her ear. "I'll always take care of Greg. We belong to each other." Then she broke free, grabbed her blanket and was gone. Blythe blinked back tears then looked at Greg.
"Your father got called away for a mission. He'll be gone at least a month," she told him.
He sagged in relief. Looking up at her, he touched the bruise on her cheek. "I hate him." he said quietly.
Blythe stood up and held out her hand. He got up and took it. She smoothed his hair.
"You take a bath while I fix your breakfast. You don't want to be late for school," she said as she led him inside.