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“You’re wearing makeup. ”
“No, I’m not. ”
He couldn’t believe she could stand there and lie to him. “No, you’re not? You look like Tootsie waiting for a close-up. ”
“Whatever that means. ”
“It means, young lady, that you are not leaving the house like that. ”
“Oh, yes, I am. Sierra’s brother is picking me up in a half an hour. ”
“Sierra’s brother? And how old is he?”
“He’s a senior. ”
“Well, I hope you mean senior citizen, because no eighteen-year-old boy is taking you to the mall. ”
“You are ruining my life. ”
“I know. You’ve said so before. Give me Sierra’s number and I’ll call her mom. If you dress like a human, I’ll drive you girls there. ”
“I’d rather die. ”
“Really? Well, I feel the same way about a trip to the mall. It’s up to you, kiddo. ” He shrugged and turned the TV back on, changing the channel. An ad for the new Spielberg movie, War of the Worlds, filled the screen.
War. It was everywhere.
Betsy stomped her foot.
Michael ignored her. In the past weeks, he might not have learned everything he needed to know about parenting a preteen, but he’d learned a few valuable lessons: don’t back down. And use peer pressure. Oh, and try to be calm. Two crazies did not make for a good day.
“Fine. I’ll go take off the makeup I’m not wearing. ”
“And change your clothes. ”
“Aaagh!” she yelled, running up the stairs. He could hear her stomping around up there.
Michael shook his head. So much drama.
He walked into the kitchen, where Lulu sat at the kitchen table, kneeling on a pillow she’d placed on one of the chairs. Her My Mommy Fights for Freedom coloring book was open in front of her, along with a pick-up-sticks tangle of crayons. She was furiously adding red streaks to an American flag.
“How come we don’t have a flag up, Daddy?” Lulu said. “Mommy’s gone. ”
Michael stopped. How was it possible that he’d never considered this before? All the things he’d learned from Cornflower and Keller slipped into his mind again.
They were a military family.
He heard that all the time; people said it to him and he shrugged it off, thinking, no, not really; my wife is just in the Guard. Because HE wasn’t in the military, it hadn’t felt real to him, and God knew he’d never liked her commitment or supported it.
Still, they were a military family, and his wife was at war. And a four-year-old had seen the truth of that before he had.
He tousled Lulu’s hair, watching her color a scene of a girl waving good-bye to a woman in uniform. “We’ll put one up,” he said quietly.
Betsy stomped back into the room, coming up behind him. “I look sufficiently gross now. Can I go?”
He turned.
Betsy was dressed in cutoffs that were too short in his opinion, but not enough to fight about, a tee shirt that read Oops! I Did It Again, and flip-flops. She’d taken off most of the makeup, but was still wearing blue mascara and blush.