Spirits of Ash and Foam by Greg Weisman Page A

going to win any prizes, but it was a family favorite.
    Alonso, mouth half full, asked about Rain’s first day of school. Just to give him a hard time, Rain said, “I’m sorry, what was that? I know there are words coming out of your mouth, but all I see is bits of cheese and sauce.
    Alonso shut his mouth, smiled wryly, and swallowed. “Sorry. How was school?”
    â€œOkay, I guess. Mrs. Beachum still hates me.”
    â€œShe doesn’t hate you, Rain,” Iris admonished. “She’d just like to see you put more effort into your work.”
    â€œYou say tomato; I say tomahto.”
    Alonso squinted at her. “Do you? Do you really say tomahto?”
    Rain shrugged. Her parental units spent the next fifteen minutes eking out the tiniest slivers of information about each of her classes.
    Then, giving up, Alonso changed the subject. “The Kims have chartered the boat for all day Saturday. They’re bringing all three kids, so I’ll need you to work.”
    Rain rolled her eyes, practically an involuntary response.
    â€œWe know how you feel about babysitting tourist kids…” her mother started.
    â€œBut we don’t want any arguments,” her father finished.
    Rain wasn’t arguing. She was resigned to it. For a day, the Searcher would be the Babysitter. Her cross to bear. Still … “Three kids are a lot. I mean, safety-wise. Even if I grab hold of one with each hand, the third could still jump off the boat and tragically drown.”
    Both Alonso and Iris knew what she was getting at. Iris, the family bookkeeper, was more inclined to hold the line, but Alonso relented quickly. “Fine. Tell Charlie I’ll pay the usual.”
    Rain grinned. “Great. He’ll be here any minute. I’ll ask him.”
    Iris shook her head, astonished—though she knew she shouldn’t be. “He’s coming over tonight? Didn’t you spend the whole afternoon with him? You only just got home. And don’t you have any homework?”
    â€œI wasn’t with Charlie, and I did all my homework already.”
    Rain’s parents stared at her. Talk about astonished. Even Rain was a little surprised. “I know, I know. But I found a quiet place, um, near the N.T.Z. And I just started reading my English assignment. The book’s not bad, and it was only the first three chapters, so I finished pretty quick. So then I moved on to my math worksheet and my Spanish worksheet, and then I did the history reading, and then I was done. I mean, it’s the first day back; they didn’t assign that much.”
    Alonso’s jaw hung open, despite a mouthful of spaghettini. Iris was more demure but no less stunned. Rain almost never did her homework voluntarily. Getting her to buckle down often involved hours of procrastination, whining and wheedling. Of course, it was only the first day. Plenty of time for Rain to revert. Even so, this was a good sign, and the Caciques would take it.
    Alonso shut his mouth, swallowed and shook off his disbelief the way I’d shake off a light drizzle. Then he reached into his pocket and slid a key over to Rain. It was her copy of the Nitaino Inn’s master key, the one he had taken away from her only the day before as “punishment” for ransacking the contents of Callahan’s guest room. He said, “Well, if you’ve suddenly matured into a responsible individual, I think you can have this back.”
    â€œYou mean you realized that without it, I can’t make the beds or clean the toilets.”
    â€œYeah, well, that too.”
    â€œBut,” her mother said, “this key does represent real responsibility and trust.”
    Keys are like that, Rain thought, smiling. “Don’t worry. I’ll be good. No repeats of the other night. I swear.”
    There was a pause, as Iris seemed to consider her next words: not what she was going to say, but whether or not she was