"Sherwood Smith - Mom and Dad" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Sherwood)

Rick looked hopeful. тАЬMaybe it's broken.тАЭ

тАЬI don't think we're that lucky,тАЭ I muttered, and went down to fix breakfast.

The kids appeared half an hour later, more or less ready for school. The looks they exchanged with each
other let me know at once that they were worriedтАФdesperatelyтАФabout something.

Then three pairs of brown eyes turned my way.

тАЬUm, Mom?тАЭ R.J. said finally, as he casually buttered some toast. тАЬDid you, uh, do house cleaning this
morning? You know, before we woke up?тАЭ

тАЬNo,тАЭ I replied truthfully, watching his toast shred into crumbs. He didn't even notice.

тАЬDid you, like, find any, um, art projects?тАЭ Lauren asked.

тАЬArt projects?тАЭ I repeated.

R.J. frowned at his toast, then pushed it aside.

Alisha said, тАЬLike a stick. For a play. A play at school. Uhn!тАЭ This last was a gasp of painтАФsomeone
had obviously kicked her under the table. Her eyes watered, and she muttered to Lauren, тАЬWhat did you
do that for?тАЭ

тАЬThe play was last month, remember?тАЭ Lauren said in a sugary voice, rolling her eyes toward me. тАЬMom
helped paint scenery!тАЭ

I fussed with my briefcase, giving them sneakier looks than they were giving me, as I watched them
trying to communicate by quick whispers and pointing fingers. Rick came in then, looked at us all, and
went out againтАФand I could hear him turning a laugh into a cough.
****

тАЬYou all reminded me of a bunch of spies in a really bad movie,тАЭ Rick said later, when I was driving us to
our respective workplaces. He grinned. тАЬAll squinting at each other likeтАФтАЭ

тАЬRick.тАЭ I tried not to be mad. тАЬIt isour kids we're spying on. Lying to. I feel terrible!тАЭ

He said, тАЬI don't. At least they're homeтАФтАЭ

тАЬThey're not at home. They're at school.тАЭ

тАЬThey're safe. The wand's in the trunk of the car, by the way. And as soon as I can, I'm going to take
the damn thing out and burn it, and make sure the kidsstay safe.тАЭ

I sighed as I drove past palm trees and billboardsтАФthe once-reassuring visual boundaries of mundane
reality. Mundane made sense. It was safe, because there were no reminders in that everyday blandness
that the rules we make to govern our lives are not absolute, and that safety is an illusion.

I dropped Rick off at his printshop. Sighed again when I parked the car.
 And I sighed a third time when I sat down at my computer, punched up Autocad, and stared at the