Thing is, I’m fine with children. To prove that point, I reach over and ruffle Callie’s hair with my non-greasy hand. Her brown eyes widen and she stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “Mrs. Lowry told us not to ever, ever touch you,” she says. “She told us it upsets you. Is that true?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Thanks, Crafty Lo, for broadcasting my issues to everyone in the house. And double thanks for getting the facts wrong.
I tell Callie, “No. You and Cody can touch me anytime you want, okay? And Mandy is probably fine, too.”
“Whaf about Fhlynn?” Callie asks from around a mouthful of chips.
Hmm, what about Flynn?
“Good question,” I murmur.
I’ve been wondering the same thing lately myself. The thought of Flynn touching me certainly doesn’t disgust me. Still, I’ve got a long way to go. Imagining something is far different than experiencing it.
Shrugging, I add, “I don’t know, Callie. Maybe someday.”
Under the table, I cross my fingers and hope there may indeed come a day where I’ll be okay with Flynn touching me. Nothing crazy; just a hug would be nice.
Cody and Mandy come back in the barn just as Callie is finishing the last of the chips from me.
Mandy, noticing the empty foil bag I’m folding, sits down, and says, “That was sweet of you, Jaynie.”
“It was nothing.” I wave my hand dismissively, not wanting my gesture to be turned into a big deal. We all help each other around here, I see that now.
Mandy lets it drop and returns to our original subject. “So,” she says, smiling conspiratorially, “back to Flynn.”
“Yes, back to Flynn. He’s not sick, is he?”
“No.” Mandy’s eyes, a paler green than mine, fill with irritation.
Concerned, I ask, “What’s wrong, Mandy?”
She sighs. “The reason Flynn isn’t working with us today is because he was assigned to spring cleaning duty up at the house.”
“Spring cleaning?” I frown, confused. “But Sunday is for chores. Plus, we have so much to do right here. The house didn’t look dirty to me,” I continue. “And won’t Flynn have twice as much work tomorrow to make up for missing today?”
“Yep, he sure will. But, according to Allison”—Mandy rolls her eyes—“Flynn was desperately needed at the house.”
“Ugh, poor Flynn. I don’t think I like Allison very much.”
“Watch out for her, Jaynie.” Mandy’s tone is grim when she adds, “She’s a dangerous, jealous bitch.”
I suspected as much. Mrs. Lowry is the stern taskmaster who hides behind a false bubbly persona, but for as bad as she is, I sense her daughter, Allison, is worse. Mrs. Lowry is all about maximizing profits; her working us hard isn’t personal. Allison, on the other hand, has a gleam in her eyes, the kind that warns you to watch out for her. She’s that seemingly harmless dog you reach out to pet and end up with your hand ripped off.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise, shuddering at the vivid imagery in my head.
“Be careful what you say and do around her,” Mandy continues. “Especially with Flynn in the picture.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
Mandy glances over at Callie and Cody, like she doesn’t want to say too much with them within earshot. The twins are preoccupied, however, busy taking their empty milk cartons apart so they can make shapes and pretend they are toys.
Mandy and I share a sad smile when we turn back from Cody and Callie.
“Anyway,” she begins, “the problem with Allison is she wants Flynn, like, bad.”
Mandy chuckles, and I ask, “What’s funny about that?”
“It’s funny ‘cause Flynn can’t stand the bitch.”
“So, how’d she get so fixated on him?”
Mandy snorts, “Have you ever looked at him?” I sure have . “Dude is hot.” He sure is . “But it’s not just that.” Mandy sighs. “Allison got obsessed with Flynn after she started giving him cigarettes and smoking with him.” So that’s where he gets them . “He’s
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Thanks, Crafty Lo, for broadcasting my issues to everyone in the house. And double thanks for getting the facts wrong.
I tell Callie, “No. You and Cody can touch me anytime you want, okay? And Mandy is probably fine, too.”
“Whaf about Fhlynn?” Callie asks from around a mouthful of chips.
Hmm, what about Flynn?
“Good question,” I murmur.
I’ve been wondering the same thing lately myself. The thought of Flynn touching me certainly doesn’t disgust me. Still, I’ve got a long way to go. Imagining something is far different than experiencing it.
Shrugging, I add, “I don’t know, Callie. Maybe someday.”
Under the table, I cross my fingers and hope there may indeed come a day where I’ll be okay with Flynn touching me. Nothing crazy; just a hug would be nice.
Cody and Mandy come back in the barn just as Callie is finishing the last of the chips from me.
Mandy, noticing the empty foil bag I’m folding, sits down, and says, “That was sweet of you, Jaynie.”
“It was nothing.” I wave my hand dismissively, not wanting my gesture to be turned into a big deal. We all help each other around here, I see that now.
Mandy lets it drop and returns to our original subject. “So,” she says, smiling conspiratorially, “back to Flynn.”
“Yes, back to Flynn. He’s not sick, is he?”
“No.” Mandy’s eyes, a paler green than mine, fill with irritation.
Concerned, I ask, “What’s wrong, Mandy?”
She sighs. “The reason Flynn isn’t working with us today is because he was assigned to spring cleaning duty up at the house.”
“Spring cleaning?” I frown, confused. “But Sunday is for chores. Plus, we have so much to do right here. The house didn’t look dirty to me,” I continue. “And won’t Flynn have twice as much work tomorrow to make up for missing today?”
“Yep, he sure will. But, according to Allison”—Mandy rolls her eyes—“Flynn was desperately needed at the house.”
“Ugh, poor Flynn. I don’t think I like Allison very much.”
“Watch out for her, Jaynie.” Mandy’s tone is grim when she adds, “She’s a dangerous, jealous bitch.”
I suspected as much. Mrs. Lowry is the stern taskmaster who hides behind a false bubbly persona, but for as bad as she is, I sense her daughter, Allison, is worse. Mrs. Lowry is all about maximizing profits; her working us hard isn’t personal. Allison, on the other hand, has a gleam in her eyes, the kind that warns you to watch out for her. She’s that seemingly harmless dog you reach out to pet and end up with your hand ripped off.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise, shuddering at the vivid imagery in my head.
“Be careful what you say and do around her,” Mandy continues. “Especially with Flynn in the picture.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
Mandy glances over at Callie and Cody, like she doesn’t want to say too much with them within earshot. The twins are preoccupied, however, busy taking their empty milk cartons apart so they can make shapes and pretend they are toys.
Mandy and I share a sad smile when we turn back from Cody and Callie.
“Anyway,” she begins, “the problem with Allison is she wants Flynn, like, bad.”
Mandy chuckles, and I ask, “What’s funny about that?”
“It’s funny ‘cause Flynn can’t stand the bitch.”
“So, how’d she get so fixated on him?”
Mandy snorts, “Have you ever looked at him?” I sure have . “Dude is hot.” He sure is . “But it’s not just that.” Mandy sighs. “Allison got obsessed with Flynn after she started giving him cigarettes and smoking with him.” So that’s where he gets them . “He’s
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