10. Andi
Chapter 10
Andi
G riffin was home for forty-eight hours. The longest forty-eight hours of my life. But as soon as he drove away, I started setting up Logan and Grace’s payback. I only spent half of that time thinking about their dad and how he had a hard time keeping his focus above my neck when he walked into the house while I was doing yoga. As I filled the water balloons, I thought about how he doesn’t shave at home, growing two days’ worth of stubble on his jaw that I imagine would feel good to run my palms over. While I placed the bucket of colored powder up on the board, I thought about how capable and hot he looked grilling dinner of salmon, vegetables, and potatoes. I was astounded to learn the kids ate salmon, but then again, Griffin would never deviate from his schedule or menu. Making sure everyone eats the appropriate amount of protein is super important to him.
Never would have guessed Captain America has Thanos’s spawn for children.
I stand at the corner now, rocking back and forth on my heels, impatiently waiting for the school bus to arrive. I don’t know what Griffin would think of my battle plan, but I highly doubt he’d sanction my revenge. Let alone what he would say if he ever found out about the kinds of tricks the kids play. I’m sure he knows some of it, but maybe not the extent. He doesn’t seem like the type to ship them off to military school, yet I don’t want to test that theory.
I need to figure out why these little criminals want to run off every nanny they’ve ever had. And to do that, I need to show them they won’t be doing the same to me.
When the yellow bus rumbles to a stop, the twins stroll out at different paces, as usual. Grace is first off, her backpack high on her shoulders. Logan is last, yelling something to a buddy as he gets off, his smile immediately falling when he spots me.
“How’s it going?” I ask the twins once they’re together, studiously avoiding me. “Learn all kinds of stuff? I can’t remember much about fifth grade besides a field trip we took to this museum in Odessa, and this kid wouldn’t stop bullying my friend, so I punched him.”
The twins gaze up at me with wide eyes.
“That’s right,” I say. “Popped him right in the mouth. Sometimes, you have to stand up to bullies. Not just ignore them.”
My two underage nemeses put their heads down and take off down the sidewalk to get away from me, so I have a perfect view of when they walk into the garage, setting off a volley of water balloons. They sail through the air, hitting both Logan and Grace in the face.
“What the…” Logan splutters, wiping water from his eyes with his forearm.
Grace steps back, fixing her glasses, and pivots her shocked face to me.
That’s when I tug on the rope pull I set up, flipping the 2x4 above them upside down so the bucket I nailed to it upends all the colored chalk powder I dumped inside it. The evil twins stand there frozen, covered from head to toe in a rainbow.
For a moment, they stare at each other in disbelief. Then they both look to me. I shrug with a smile. “Gotcha.”
It’s quiet for another moment, and then, to my surprise, a grin slowly spreads across Logan’s face. “That was epic!”
Grace starts to giggle, and before I know it, all three of us are doubled over with laughter at the rainbow mess I have made of them. I pull out my phone and snap a quick photo to memorialize my victory over them.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Grace says when I hand her a towel.
“I can’t believe you two booby-trapped my room.”
“That was nothing,” Logan admits, rubbing purple and pink off his face. “Grace blew up the last nanny.”
“You what ?”
Grace shrugs. “I didn’t blow her up. I blew up her drink in her face. Like a volcano.”
Gobsmacked, I wait for her to continue. All she does is wave me off like her dad.
“I’m good at science. I like blowing stuff up.”
I shake my head at them. “Truly, you are on a whole other level.”
Logan’s proud, and he nods. “Right?”
“But why?” I pick up their backpacks from the ground. Neither of the twins says anything when I hand them brooms and wet wipes. They know we need to clean this mess up.
After a few seconds of sweeping, Grace confesses, “We hate having nannies.”
“Obviously.” I grab a roll of paper towels and start wiping down the wall where most of the powder ended up. “But making my life miserable isn’t going to change that. Your dad still has to go to work.”
Logan pauses in sweeping. “Yeah, but whenever we run off a nanny, he has to take time off to interview new ones. So we get him home—for a little while, at least.”
I toss the soiled towel in the garbage and tear off a clean one. “You’re really doing all this for his attention?”
They nod, not meeting my eyes.
“Have you tried telling him that?”
Grace scoffs. “He’s too busy. He’s always at work or doing stuff around the house. He doesn’t have time to play with us.”
“We’re not little kids, you know,” Logan says defensively. “We just want to hang out with him sometimes. But he’s so…”
“Captain Stone,” I fill in, and they both nod again.
Griffin runs his house like I assume he commands his fire squad or how the military worked. It makes sense that the kids would act out for attention and connection.
“I get that,” I say gently. “But maybe there’s a better way than tormenting me. I’m sure your dad would make time if he knew how you felt.”
The twins exchange a skeptical look.
“It’s worth a try, right?” When they frown at me, unconvinced, I continue, “Besides, I’m not going anywhere. So you might as well figure out a different way to get your dad’s attention.”
At this, Logan smiles. “I kinda like you, Miss Andrea.”
“Andi,” I say, holding up my hand for a high five. “Call me Andi.”
He hits my palm, and then I offer the same to Grace.
“I’m on your side with all of this, all right?” I tell them, and they both seem pleased with this new truce.
We finish cleaning the garage in thoughtful silence. I can tell the twins are processing, realizing their tricks have been misguided. I feel for them. Griffin, too. He’s a good dad, just busy and overwhelmed at times. He’s parenting the best way he knows how, and no one can blame him for that.
Later, when I call the kids for dinner, the energy in the house feels different. Calm and happy. I trust that I won’t wake up to any more glitter, and I hope they know they can rely on me. I’m here to help.
I set down their plates of spaghetti, along with the small salad I made, and both of them dig through the noodles as if searching for something. I laugh. “I wouldn’t be cruel enough to put something in your food. I’m not like you.”
“Sorry about that,” Logan says.
“Me too,” Grace adds.
I accept their apologies. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but I understand now what you were trying to do and why. Although, I think we can move on and get to know each other. What do you think?”
They agree, and they actually answer my questions about what they enjoy. Grace loves school and wants to be a scientist like someone named Emily, who makes YouTube videos, and I mentally file that away so I can find out more about this person. Logan tells me he loves playing sports, and his favorite is basketball. I inform him that I used to play, up until high school.
“But you’re so short,” he says, and I splutter a laugh.
“Yeah, but I was fast, and I had a pretty good free throw.”
“Really?”
I nod. “We should play sometime. I saw you have a hoop outside.”
“Cool, yeah.”
Grace slurps up some spaghetti before wiping the sauce from her mouth. “Did you really grow up in Texas?”
“Yes, ma’am. On a small cattle ranch. Me, my brother, my parents, and a whole lotta cows.”
Grace smiles, twirling her fork in the noodles. “What was it like?”
My first instinct is to say lonely, but instead, I give them the easier answer. “Fun. Cows are like giant dogs. They’re nice to cuddle with.”
Logan chuckles. “No. Really?”
“Yep. My favorite was Mini. She was spotted white and brown, and I’d go out and lie with her, play my songs for her.”
“I saw you have a guitar,” Grace notes. And when I nod, she asks, “Are you, like, good?”
I toss my head back to laugh. “I hope so. I used to live in LA. Once upon a time, I thought I’d make it as a songwriter, but…” I shrug, hoping I don’t sound too forlorn. “Now, I’m here, getting glitter bombed instead.”
When the twins quiet from giggling, Grace asks, “Do you think you could teach me?”
“Of course. We can start tomorrow if you want.”
“Yeah. There’s a talent show at the end of the year, and?—”
“What? You want to be Taylor Swift,” Logan teases, and I shush him, waiting for his sister to go on.
“Sometimes girls make fun of me, and, I don’t know, I thought if I could do something different, they wouldn’t see me as just a nerd or something.”
“First of all,” I start, sitting up straight so she knows I mean business. “Nerds are awesome, okay? Nerds grow up to make a ton of money and run the world, so you don’t worry about people calling you a nerd. You should take it as a compliment. And secondly, I will definitely teach you to play guitar, but you have to be confident in yourself. Don’t do it for other people. Do it because you want to.”
They’re both quiet at this, and I take a deep breath. If I open up to them, I think they’ll open up to me in return. “You know, when I was your age, I felt like no one really saw me for who I was. It’s hard, especially when you’re young, to feel like you’re not getting the attention you want or need.”
They both look up at me, their eyes wide. I can see the recognition in their gazes, the understanding that I get it. I get them.
“Fifth grade is hard, right?” I lean my elbows on the table, shifting closer to them. “You’re trying to figure out who you are, what you like, who you want to be. And sometimes, it feels like no one understands you. Like no one sees you.”
Grace’s eyes shine with unshed tears behind her glasses. “Yeah.”
I reach across the table, squeezing her hand. “I want you both to know that I’m here for you. Whatever you need, whatever you want to talk about, I’m here.”
Logan drags the tines of his fork over his plate a few times before he finally mutters his quiet question. “Even if it’s about girls?”
“Even if it’s about girls,” I promise.
His cheeks flush slightly. “There’s this girl, in my class… I don’t know what to say to her.”
I set my chin in my hand. “Well, what do you like about her?”
“I dunno. She smells good and is really nice to everyone.”
“Then tell her that,” I say. “Well, don’t tell her you think she smells good right off the bat. That’ll come off creepy. Start with a compliment about something. Like, hey, I like your backpack. Or, hey, nice job getting that good grade on the test. Or, Isabella, I really like how you treat everyone nicely.”
“Isabella?”
I wave my hand. “I took a stab at it. I feel like every girl is named Isabella or Amelia these days.”
“I do have two Isabellas in my classes,” Grace says. “But Logan likes Valentina.”
“Shut up,” he hisses, and I smile.
“Valentina? I love that name.”
“Me too,” he murmurs, and I could die at how cute he is when he’s embarrassed.
“Just be yourself,” I instruct. “That’s the best way to get someone to like you.” I point to Grace. “You too.”
She nods, and I sit back in my seat, feeling like I really did something today. I made a difference.
And as we finish our dinner with lots of laughs and conversation, I know we’ll be all right.