Chapter 8 #2
“We’re still working on eye contact, but he seems excited for his playdate with Quinn.” She rubs her hand on Quinn’s backpack.
Is she guessing or assuming? Henry doesn’t get excited in the same way other kids do. Not in big smiles and a jumping up and down sort of way. He talks faster and louder. Right now, he’s standing stock-still, not saying a word.
I squat down in front of Quinn. “Are you ready for our playdate?”
She gives me the reaction the teacher probably expected from Henry.
“Okay! Let’s go.”
Out of habit, I ask both of them if I can hold their hands to cross the street. Quinn accepts mine willingly; Henry tolerates me guiding him by the wrist. It’s a good compromise. I pull open the passenger door, and Henry pushes past Quinn and climbs in first.
“Henry… Quinn’s going to use your car seat, okay? You get to use that cool booster seat next to her!”
“This is my seat,” he states matter-of-factly.
I didn’t warn him. Henry does better when he’s prepared. But this was last minute, and I couldn’t do that. All I have to work with is making it sound as if it’s the most exciting thing to happen to him today.
“I know it’s your seat, buddy, but Quinn is smaller than you.” He has a few inches on her. Even if the seat belt hits Henry’s chin, it will completely cover Quinn’s face. “Can you use the booster seat just this one time? It’ll be really fun! I promise!”
With a disgusted look on his face, he shakes his head. “I don’t use that seat. I use this seat. This is the seat that I use. It’s my seat. She can sit in the other seat.”
I sigh. We might not need that key in Rhett’s backyard after all. I don’t think we’re leaving this parking lot any time soon.
“I know. I know it’s your seat. It’s always been your seat. But just for today,” I emphasize as if noting that it’s temporary will be enough to change his mind. “We’ll share it, okay?”
“No thank you.”
I cover my mouth with my hand so he doesn’t hear the laugh that slips from my lips. Julia’s been working hard on teaching him to use manners, and I love that he chose to use them now with a no attached to it. I can’t argue with that. He was polite. Now what am I going to do?
“Waeybut! Waeybut!” Quinn squats down to the pavement and presses the tip of her finger to its back leg. It springs into the air and lands on the car tire.
“That’s a grasshopper,” Henry corrects her. “They have ears on their belly and regrow their legs when they get hurt.”
“Wow! That’s interesting! Where did you learn that?” I ask him.
“Coyote Peterson.”
I thought he might say that. Henry is obsessed with the YouTube show Brave Wilderness, where a guy in a cowboy hat travels the world for animal encounters.
Quinn scoots forward and touches its back leg again. “Aw-puh,” she repeats. It springs so far in the air we lose track of it.
“Good job saying hopper.”
Henry doesn’t turn and look at her like I do. “You can ride in my seat.”
My eyes widen. “Wow! That’s really nice of you, Henry. Good job sharing!”
“Mom says if you do a good job, you should get a reward.”
I realize now that’s what he expects. The surprise bucket of chalk certainly isn’t going to do the trick.
“How about we get an ice cream cone on the way home from school?
“Yes. I want ice cream!” Henry yells.
I smile because he’s happy. It means I did something right.
Ten minutes later, both kids are licking drippy ice cream cones in Rhett Dawson’s backyard. It was a good thing I remembered which house was his because I was wrong about the reporters. They must have seen him leave and taken a break from their usual watch post.
It comes as no surprise to me that it looks like an English garden back here.
What I don’t know is if he hires a team of gardeners to keep it this way or does it himself.
Rows of green hydrangea leaves preparing for their blooming season line the back fence.
Clusters of bright yellow daffodils spot the garden beds.
Black metal is almost entirely hidden by a wall of ivy.
Even the spacious back patio catches my eye.
“I brought a surprise!” I pull out the bucket of chalk from behind my back.
Quinn’s face lights up. Henry cringes. Quinn stuffs the remaining third of her ice cream cone in her mouth all at once as I open the lid.
She reaches inside and pulls out a green stick of chalk.
Minutes later, squiggly lines frame her crossed legs.
“Those look like beautiful vines. Should we add some flowers to them?” I offer.
Quinn gives an enthusiastic nod, and I do my thing.
Whoever said chalk is for children has never tried it as an adult.
Maybe it’s the kid in me, or more likely it’s the chance to be creative without any set rules.
I try to squash the voice in my head that tells me how immature I am for being someone who actively enjoys coloring outside of the lines.
After Quinn and I transform the cement into a mosaic of color, I say, “I heard they’re doing The Rainbow Fish story for the play at your school this year. You get to dress up and sing and everything! That might be kind of fun, huh?”
Quinn claps. Henry shrugs.
“Not a big play guy?” I tease him.
“I don’t know,” he says.
When Rhett mentioned his invitation to Miss Amy, I didn’t get a good read on whether he’s considering participating, but I hope so based on his daughter’s reaction. I bet she’d love it. Speaking of things she might love…
“What do you say we make a fort next?”
Technically, it was a milk bottle stacking contest I won at the fair, not the fort story I fed Rhett. But I thought it was sweet that he does that with his daughter, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty for missing it.
Quinn squeals, “Yes!” at the same time Henry says, “No thanks.”
“Come on, Henry. It will be fun!” I spot a heap of boxes in the corner. I have no idea if they’re being saved for anything, but this could be an act-now-ask-for-forgiveness-later sort of situation.
After an hour, I’ve cut apart and taped together a dozen boxes. They dome at the top with a window on each side and a movable door. To finish it off, I scribble Query Lab across the front with a Sharpie I found in the kitchen.
“What’s a Ca-ree lab?” Henry asks.
I snort. “Query Lab. Ya know, like Quinn and Henry put together. It’s a science lab for your bugs.”
Both of their faces brighten as I hoped they would.
“Can you take a picture to show Mom?” Henry asks.
Quinn pokes at the door. “Side?”
“Yes! You can go inside. How about I take a picture of you both through the window?”
Quinn reaches for his hand. This time he lets her take it. He helps her pull the cardboard door back, and it brushes through trimmed blades of grass as they disappear inside. When I peek through the window, they’re pointing at the little counter and two box seats I made for them.
I snap a picture and then look up just as I hear Caroline say, “What’s going on here?”