Crap. She’d brought out the young lady. Marie stood up straight, eyes and ears on full alert. If she’d been a dog, she would have lifted her nose to sniff the air for the scent of trouble.
I was going to kill Taggish for this.
“Matt!” Marie shouted to our brother. “Better get in here. Perfect Mara’s in trouble.”
“I am not,” I hissed at my sister. “I am not!” I said louder so Matt would hear in the other room, but it was too late. Matt came skidding into the kitchen. “What are you? Two?”
He grinned and rubbed his palms together, completely ignoring my question. “What’d she do?” he asked Marie with glee.
“You guys are such children.” How was it I was the youngest?
“Mara, you still haven’t answered my question. And I’m getting angry, so you better tell me right now. The way you’re behaving tells me something isn’t right, and I want to know what it is.” Mom had her hands on her hips. Matt, Marie, and Jessica all stared at me. Even the twins had stopped babbling, their baby eyes darting from one adult to another.
“What? What is?” Dad asked, strolling into the kitchen. He hadn’t showered after work, and his shirt still had remnants of sawdust sticking to it.
Mom’s lips thinned as she stared at me for a second longer before turning to Dad. “Mara stayed late after school and won’t say why.”
Ever the peacemaker, Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Right, Mar?”
Except it was. Or maybe it wasn’t. There was really no telling how my parents might react to the news I’d gotten detention. Heaven knew Marie had one every other month when she was in school. And Matt had had more than a handful until he got serious about sports and straightened up. I barely remembered those days, but I clearly remembered Marie getting in trouble.
A slow bead of sweat trickled down my back.
I hated this. I hated having to tell my parents I’d gotten in trouble almost as much as I hated actually getting in trouble.
“Good grief, Mara, just spill.” Marie rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not,” I said.
“Well,” Matt pitched in, “tell us what it is so we can all eat dinner. The kids are getting hungry.”
I glared at my brother, using the kids like that.
“Mara,” Mom said again.
Dad squeezed my shoulder. I would not win this one.
I blew out a deep breath. “I had detention.”
This confession was met with complete silence for the space of several long seconds before Matt and Marie both burst out laughing.
“Are you kidding me?” Matt asked between guffaws.
Marie’s laugh sounded more like a giggle, but that was just her. I worried she’d split her gut open, laughing so hard. Wade actually looked worried as he put a hand on her shoulder.
“Detention?” Marie’s voice tinkled. “You had detention?”
Ugh. This shouldn’t be so funny. Gah, I hated my brother and sister sometimes. They were such jerks.
“It wasn’t even my fault,” I said, but no one could hear me over the laughing.
Across the counter from me, Mom just stared, wearing a perplexed expression. The kids had no idea what was going on but were laughing because of Matt and Marie. Jessica looked like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or feel sorry for me.
Dad’s hand squeezed my shoulder again. I turned into him and hugged his waist. He smelled like the sawdust on his shirt. He’d worked construction all my life, building things with wood. Decks. Piers. Fences. He always smelled like wood, stain, and home.
“Wait, wait.” Marie held up her hands to quiet everyone down before turning to me. “Why did you have detention?”
I knew the question was coming and had an answer prepared. “Someone pulled a prank. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time.” It was true enough.
Marie frowned. “A prank? What kind of prank?”
“Does it matter?” Matt asked, laughing again. “Mara had detention!”
I pushed away from Dad to yell at my brother.
“Why is that funny? You guys are jerks!”
“Jerks!” Simon chirped and clapped his hands. Dad shushed him and whispered in his ear, probably telling him jerks was a bad word. Still, it wasn’t a bad enough word for my brother and sister.
Matt picked a cucumber out of the salad Jessica had finished and popped it in his mouth. “Why? Because you think you’re so much better than us because you never get in trouble for anything?”
“Uh—” What? How could he say that? I looked to Mom for backup, but she’d already turned back to her sauce. I glared at Matt as hot tears collected in my eyes. “I do not.”
“You do, too. Ever since we were kids.” Matt walked out from behind the kitchen island to lay a hand on my shoulder. “It’s good to know even you screw up sometimes.”
My chin trembled, but I refused to let him make me cry.
“No, kidding,” Marie chimed in. “Perfect Mara isn’t so perfect anymore. Nice.”
Were they serious? I get in trouble at school, and they celebrate?
I had stood in the center of the kitchen, my family moving all around me as if they hadn’t just crushed me. First Taggish, and now my brother and sister. My own parents didn’t even stand up for me against them.
My chest shuddered with a suppressed sob as I’d run out the back door. I had to get out of there, or I’d break down in front of everyone, and they’d never let me live it down.
5
Taggish
The Cronks had a perfect backyard for kids, complete with a swing set and toys and a miniature house. I didn’t think Mara had little brothers or sisters, but sometimes a little boy and girl played out there.
When the kids weren’t around, Mara would sometimes hang out back there. When I heard her crying and couldn’t see her anywhere, I figured she’d probably hidden in the miniature house.
It was still light enough outside that I needed to use some stealth to get to the door of the little house without being spotted. I didn’t know what Mara told her parents, but if she’d ratted me out, chances were they didn’t like me very much at the moment and wouldn’t want me around their daughter. Even if it was to apologize.
Keeping my head low, I skirted around the swing set and the trunk of the large shade tree in the center of the yard. On the other side of the tree was the little house. And it was little. Once inside, I wouldn’t be able to stand to my full height, and with Mara already in there—well, it would be a tight fit.
“Mara,” I called softly through the closed door.
“Go away,” she called back after a brief silence.
I couldn’t do that, but I figured I’d give her fair warning. “I’m coming in,” I said, pushing the door open and crawling in.
The little building was unsurprisingly well made. I remembered from when we first moved in next door, and my dad had introduced us to our new neighbors, that Mara’s dad was a carpenter. He’d obviously built the little house, and he’d obviously put a lot of work into it. One wall had built-in shelves filled with plastic toys and a handful of children’s board books. A small plastic table and two chairs had been pushed to one side, and in the center of the carpet sat Mara.