“You’re not supposed to say slow,” said Cassie. “It’s unkind. Although, Jane always says it.”
“That’s because she takes like an hour to vacuum the living room, not the developmentally kind of slow.”
“Unkind,” said Cassie.
Charlie scooted away from Jane on the couch. “You make a seven-year-old vacuum the living room? That’s horrible. You’re like a wicked stepmother.”
“First, I pay that child a living wage; second, the reason it takes her so long is because she gets to do whatever she wants during the process; and third, she wants to be a princess, so a wicked stepmother is like a pre-rec.”
“Well she’s not going to be a princess. She’s not even the Luminatus anymore.”
“You told her she isn’t the Luminatus?”
“Well, of course. I need to keep her safe.”
“Jane wouldn’t even tell her that she wasn’t a vegan,” said Cassie.
“It’s not a diet thing,” said Jane. “She really wants to fit in.”
“But she’s not a vegan, right?” Charlie said. “Lily said you told her she could eat animals that only eat vegetables.”
“Yeah, that’s when she was a vegetarian. Now that she’s a vegan she only eats orange food: mac and cheese, carrots, sweet and sour pork.”
“Sweet and sour pork is not vegan.”
“The kid had two dogs the size of cows at her command. If she wants sweet and sour pork to be vegan, then it is.”
“So you just let her do whatever she wants—run around here like a crazed barbarian.”
“She likes to think of herself as a warrior princess,” said Cassie.
“Are you guys fighting?” Charlie asked.
“It’s how we show affection,” said Cassie.
“Honestly, I’m kind of sad she’s not the Luminatus,” said Jane, slouching on the couch. “I feel bad for her. Plus, it really got me through discussions in line at Whole Foods. When the other mothers were going on about how awesome their kids were, I’d think: Oh, your little Riley is an all-star in youth soccer, can play Bach on the cello, speaks Mandarin, and has a brown belt in ballet? Well, Sophie is the Luminatus. DEATH! The grim reaper. The big D. She rules the Underworld and can vaporize demons with a wave of a hand. She’s guarded by indestructible hellhounds that can eat steel and burp fire, so your little Riley can lick dog drool off my Sophie’s spiky red Louboutins, bitch! Now I’ll never be able to say that.”
“Sophie has spiky red Louboutins?” Charlie said. “I don’t think those are good for a kid’s posture.”
“No, I was embellishing. Really not the point of the speech, Chuck. It was that Sophie had a thing, but it had to be a secret. They’re all so gifted.” Jane said ‘gifted’ with a tone normally reserved for reference to skin-boring parasites. “You know one mother has her kid in Ninjitsu. Ninja lessons! Kid is seven, why does she need invisible assassin skills?”
“Well, as important as your self-esteem in the line at Whole Foods is, I’m more concerned that if she doesn’t have her powers, with the hellhounds gone, we don’t have any way to protect her from—you know.”
Cassie and Jane both knew how Cavuto had been killed. They played darting-eye tennis between them until Cassie lost and so had to say something positive.
“Maybe she’s just having a hiatus or something. She had them when she needed them, right? Well, maybe her powers will return. Like when she hits puberty. Maybe one day when she’s in sixth or seventh grade she’ll get her period, the skies will darken, and the Apocalypse will be on.”
“That’s how it happened for me,” said Jane.
“It did not,” said Charlie. “I don’t remember that.”
“You were at camp.”
“Well, even if that’s the case, we need to get her to sixth or seventh grade. Look, I need you guys to take her somewhere out of the city until this is all sorted out.”
“I can’t. I have work,” said Jane.
“You’re sitting around drinking wine at three in the afternoon on a Monday.”