Chapter 10
Milow
Summer break started about three weeks ago, and since then, Ashby and Wesley have been home the whole time.
We played from morning until the sun went down, and when Mom and Dad weren’t working, they took us to the pool.
I could swim now, and that made me proud, but Ashby still moved through the water faster and more smoothly than I ever could.
Stan had slept over last night—which he had done at least twice every week so far—and this morning, he was still bursting with energy.
He tore around the house, grabbed every toy within reach, and laughed at everything.
He never pushed us aside or was mean. He was just being wild, like always.
Stan was simply being Stan, and while his loud energy never really bothered me, I still wondered what it would be like to see him calm for once.
We were outside in the backyard playing tag.
The wooden playground Dad built stood in the middle of the grass, and we chased each other between the swings and the sandbox.
Stan was the catcher, and as fast as he was, he hadn’t tagged me yet.
I knew he was after me because he never went after Ashby, which I thought was unfair, but I was too fast for him anyway.
Suddenly, Stan stopped running, his eyes widening as he spun around and sprinted back toward the porch.
He was yelling at the top of his lungs, with his arms flaring in the air.
I froze halfway up the steps, and my hands curled around the railing as I followed his gaze.
The hedge rustled, and my mind searched for a reason.
Maybe he saw a snake or something bigger.
A monster, I thought, but Wesley always said monsters weren’t real, and I trusted him, so I stayed where I was and waited for whatever would come out.
“What are you running from?” Ashby called from the bridge of the playground, his voice confused but also a little amused as he leaned over the railing. “Stan, what is it now?”
“A monster!” Stan shouted back. His voice was loud and dramatic, filled with pure horror as he slapped both hands to the sides of his head. “It’s over there! It’s coming right at us!”
A monster.
My face went cold, and my stomach dropped all at once as I turned to look at Ashby with wide, panicked eyes. When he noticed me staring, I lifted my hands quickly. [Is it really a monster?]
Ashby didn’t even hesitate. He shook his head firmly and frowned, like the answer should have been obvious. “Of course not, Milow. Monsters aren’t real.”
“Yes, they are!” Stan yelled again, pointing wildly toward the hedges. “And it’s right there! Aah—there it is!”
I didn’t want to look. Every part of me told me not to, but the fear felt too big to ignore. My heart thudded hard in my chest as I slowly turned my head, bracing myself for something terrible. But the fear drained away almost instantly when I saw her.
It was just a girl.
She stood there with her dirty-blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she glared at Stan like she’d had enough of him already.
“I’m not a monster, Stanley,” she said sharply.
“Are too! You’re scary and ugly!” Stan yelled back, not even thinking before the words came out of his mouth.
But the girl was far from ugly. She looked like a princess, even with strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, and her cheeks as red as tomatoes.
“And you’re a baby!” the girl shot back immediately, her voice sharp and fearless. She started walking straight toward the playground like she wasn’t scared of him at all.
Stan took one look at the girl coming closer and decided running was his best option.
He turned on his heel and sprinted across the grass.
I stayed where I was, watching with wide eyes as the girl chased after him without slowing down even a little.
Ashby burst out laughing, with his arms crossed over his stomach.
The girl was fast. Much faster than Stan.
I didn’t even realize how fast until she caught up to him in seconds and tackled him to the ground like a football player, sending both of them rolling across the grass.
They wrestled for a moment, arms and legs everywhere as Stan yelled dramatically.
Ashby laughed even harder, and I found myself smiling just a little, too.
In the end, she won, and she climbed on top of Stan’s belly, sitting there proudly with her hands on her thighs, and a triumphant grin spread across her face while Stan groaned beneath her.
“See?” she said smugly. “You’re such a baby.”
“Get off me!” Stan yelled. He was struggling, kicking his feet wildly as if that might somehow help him.
“Ask nicely,” the girl said calmly. She had all the time in the world, and she’d let him suffer for as long as possible.
“No!”
“Then I’m not getting off you, you big baby,” she replied, settling her weight even more comfortably on his stomach.
Ashby was laughing so hard he had to bend over, his laughter bubbling out of him like he couldn’t control it even if he tried.
My own smile grew wider as I watched. It was strange and funny to see Stan like this, not the loudest or wildest one for once.
He was usually the one nobody could calm down, but this girl seemed to be doing something no one else ever managed.
“Someone help!” Stan groaned, trying again to push her off him, his face twisted with frustration.
“Ask nicely,” she repeated, fixing him with an expectant glare.
“No, no, no, never!”
“What’s going on out here?”
I turned my head toward the porch and saw Dad standing there, his eyes finding me first, then Ashby, and finally landing on Stan and the girl tangled up on the grass.
He didn’t even wait for an answer. His expression shifted into amusement, and he let out a low chuckle.
“Ah, you’re finally back,” he said. “No one else has been able to stop that whirlwind all summer.”
The girl glanced over her shoulder with a wide, proud grin. “Hi, Mr. Statler!”
Dad lifted his hand in a quick wave. “Be good, kids. Come inside if you want a snack.” Then he turned around and went back into the house.
Stan huffed and puffed underneath her for a few more seconds, his legs still kicking, and his hands pressing uselessly against her arms. Then he stopped moving completely. His face scrunched up like he was chewing on something really bitter.
“…Please,” he muttered. “Can you get off me, please?”
The girl raised a brow, clearly surprised, and even Ashby stopped laughing. Then she grinned, looking satisfied, as if she had just won something. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
She pushed herself up and stood, brushing dirt off her knees, while Stan rolled onto his side and sighed dramatically, holding his stomach like he had survived a great battle.
I stared at him, fascinated. I had never seen Stan act like this. Ever. He was loud and stubborn, always doing whatever he wanted, and now he had just… listened.
The girl turned toward Ashby as he climbed down the playground. His face lit up, and so did the girls’, and as they met each other halfway, they hugged tightly.
“I’m so happy you’re back from Australia!” he said excitedly. “I thought you weren’t coming back, ever!”
I noticed two things: Ashby’s eyes were brighter than they’d ever been, and my heart was beating hard, but in a painful way. I didn’t like the way it felt. Not one bit. So I tried to ignore it.
“Mom wanted to visit family,” the girl said as she stepped away from him. She scrunched her nose. “I liked it, but I missed home and all of you guys.”
“We didn’t miss you,” Stan muttered from where he still sat in the grass.
The girl rolled her eyes hard. “I sure hope I’m not going to be in your class in second grade.”
I was fascinated by her. She talked like a grown-up, and she wasn’t afraid of anything. She was confident and loud, but not obnoxiously like Stan. She was kind and funny, and Ashby liked her. And when Ashby liked someone, I had to like them too.
Stan groaned loudly. “I’ll have my parents get me to switch. Actually, now that you’re back, I’ll ask them if we can move away.”
As dramatic as he was being, I knew he couldn’t dislike her that much. She was super cool. Cooler than any girl I had ever met. Maybe Stan was intimidated by her.
She didn’t respond and turned to face me next. She looked at me differently than Stan had the first time he saw me. She wasn’t confused or telling Ashby that I shouldn’t be there. She looked curious, tilting her head and smiling.
“I’m Scottie,” she told me, taking a few steps closer. “Are you new here?”
I felt them all looking at me now. My heart continued to beat loudly in my chest, but I wasn’t scared. Just… worried. That maybe she’d change her mind about me the second I lifted my hands.
But Mom and Dad always told me to be brave in situations like these.
I quickly glanced at Ashby, then slowly lifted my hands to sign.
[I’m Milow.]
She watched my hands as I lowered them, and I braced myself for her honest reaction. But before she could say anything, Ashby stepped in. He took my hand in his and smiled proudly. “She lives here now.”
Scottie’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it grew warmer. “Cool,” she said easily. “Nice to meet you, uh…”
“Milow. Her name is Milow. She fingerspelled it for you, but she also has different name signs for all of us. This is the sign for her name,” he explained, signing an M, and then flicking two fingers away from his right eye.
Mom taught us about this. That people who signed created unique signs as identifiers, instead of fingerspelling the names every time.
My special name sign was my initial, and then the indication that my right eye had two colors.
Ashby’s name sign was a combination of his initial and the sign for water, because he was a swimmer. And Stan’s name sign was a little funnier, but it fit just the same: his initial, and the sign for clown. I came up with that one, and I was proud of it.