And I know exactly which one.
My heart races, somehow to the beat of Daphne telling me that kids can drown in seconds. But back on the beach side of the playground I still don’t see him. Daphne’s voice in my head goes from lecturing me about drowning to giving advice on looking after them.
Kids are creatures of habit. They’re going to keep doing the same thing, even when you tell them not to.
Let’s see, when was the last time I yelled at the Kid for disappearing?
“Dammit.”
I sprint to the playground equipment, because Daphne has already been gone for fifteen minutes and could come back at any moment. I whistle hard.
“Taylor!” I shout at the top of the monkey bars. Thirteen-year-old, too-smart-for-her-own-good Taylor looks down on me—I mean, what else is new? “I need you to watch everyone for a second, okay?”
“Did you lose himagain?”
“Okay, if we’re going to place blame, you should have seen himwander off from up there.”
“I’mnot an adult.”
“No,” I mutter under my breath. “Just reincarnated Damien fromThe Omen.” I bet she has a 666 birthmark hidden under that braid.
“What?”
“Keep an eye, please? I’ll owe you an extra cookie tomorrow.” Shit, wait, did she just callmean adult? I’m only, like, three years older than her, what the hell?
Mustering the best impression of my own little sister I’ve ever seen, Taylor gives me a “sigh-fiiiiine,” then, Satan love her, counts the kids playing around her. I sprint in the opposite direction toward the water park.
But it’s not a water park anymore. The engineering folks still haven’t figured out water treatment given the limited amount of power we have, so the fountains and the flower-shaped sprinklers are still turned off.
That also means the pool is empty. But there’s no reason the Kid would need to go to the pool, so he isn’t there. He can’t be. Because I definitely won’t be able to live with myself if I have to look over the edge and see him lying at the bottom of a concrete pool.
He’s six. He knows better than that. I have to give him more credit.
But the closer to the pool I get, the more anxious I am.
Then relief—because there he is, on the sky-blue painted floor of the water park, under the nonfunctioning daisy sprinkler.
“Kid!” I call out with enough authority in my voice that I know my dad is looking down on me with a twinkle in his eye. Every time Andrew uses his big-boy voice, an angel gets their wings.
The Kid looks up from the stuffed hippo in his hands. I call him Kid because he’s never told anyone his name. He has no parents or family to tell us who he is, and when we ask him his name he won’t answer—even the name game doesn’t work on him, and the other orphans eat that shit up. Daphne was vehemently against calling him “Kid,” but even she’s broken down and uses it when talking to me. Not to his face, though.
It seems to be okay when I do it because whenever I shout it, he answers.
When he sees me, the Kid immediately looks guilty, and it breaks my damn heart. I hate yelling at these kids. I understand why we need to, but it’s not fair thatI’mthe one who has to do it. I mean, technically there’s four of us swapping off the responsibility, but I do like to hand it off to Daphne as much as possible. Probably becausesheyells at me enough.
I come to a stop next to him and crouch down. “Dude. You can’t run off without telling me.”
His attention returns to his hippo. “Bobo needed fresh water.” He makes a splashing sound.
Bobo’s a stuffed animal, Kid; the less water he gets, the better. Instead of saying this aloud, however, I nod. “Well, now that he’s had his fill, we need to get back to the others, okay? Ms. Daphne will yell at us if we’re late for lineup.”
That gets his attention, so he takes my hand and we head back to the playground. When we arrive, Daphne still isn’t back—thank God—but Taylor is down from the monkey bars again, talking to another adult.
There’s three full seconds of anxiety before I recognize the tattooscovering every inch of flesh visible around a cutoff denim vest littered with pins and buttons, and I relax a bit.
“Rocky Horror,” I say when we reach the edge of the playground. “I’ve never been happier to see another human being in my life.” That’s extremely untrue, but I do love me some Rocky Horror.
He smiles wide and holds out a tattooed fist for me to bump. All the other kids have suddenly noticed Rocky Horror’s arrival and the bravest of them are coming forward to ogle him.
