Page 53 of A Million To Fall

Skye

I’m learning very quickly that children are like squirrels injected with copious amounts of caffeine—maybe sugar. Same thing.

Also? They’re sticky. Like toxic sludge kind of sticky. No idea why.

I never had siblings growing up. No cousins, either. Just my friends and the blissful ability to retreat to my quiet bedroom whenever I’d reached my human interaction limit.

This?

This is sensory warfare. Sight, smell, sound, touch, and yes, even taste, as I learned when I picked up what I thought was my cup of water and it turned out to be some overly sweet electrolyte drink that contained not one, but two gummy worms I missed before taking a way-too-large gulp. It’ll be weeks before I trust a cup of water again.

“Skye! Watch this!”

A tiny blur in light blue shorts cartwheels across the gym floor directly in front of me, almost taking out another child in the process.

“Oh my god, Cassie,” I gasp, clutching my roll of black trash bags against my chest like it’s riot gear. “You almost died.”

Cassie giggles. “No I didn’t.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “Don’t you fear injury?”

She shakes her head, then does some kind of cartwheel-flip-over thingy that, for a fraction of a second, has me convinced she’s going to crack her skull open.

It’s my third time at Riverfront—my second official shift since starting my summer “job” at my mom’s non-profit on Monday, and Cassie and I have become fast friends. In fact, thirty seconds after arriving for my first shift on Tuesday, armed only with Jessica’s trusty clipboard and some vague instructions from my mom about making sure the kids are signed out and confirming with Valentina—Harbor Project’s version of me—that they’re handling the transportation for the field trip to the zoo in two weeks, Bronx rushed me and insisted I immediately meet his sister Cassie. I didn’t tell him I’d met Cassie long before that. Back when she was still a baby.

I thought maybe she’d be shy, but boy was I wrong. She abandoned her still-wet paper mache project and Velcro’d herself to me. Doesn’t bother me. She’s great company. But I do feel bad that she’s watching me do boring admin things rather than playing with the other kids or doing crafts which—she’s told me twice now—is her favorite thing ever.

“Can you please not do that again?” I ask Cassie, whose ponytail is coming loose from all her wheeling and flipping. “It scares the shit out of me.”

She gasps. “Boss says saying bad words is rude.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Boss ate three brownies during snack time, so I’m not sure he’s the authority on proper behavior.”

I glance toward the court where Boston stands near a goal line, loudly cheering on a screaming bunch of kids competing in a tight potato sack race—except that the potato sacks are actually trash bags.

There’s his whistle resting against his chest, his dark hair curling slightly at the ends from the heat in the building, and—

Nope. Absolutely not.

I drag my attention back to the table I’m supposed to be cleaning. Ugh, so sticky.

“Skye?”

Cassie steps up to the table.

“Yes, ma’am?”

She laughs at that. “Did you know it’s my birthday next week?”

I blink. “My birthday’s next week, too. When’s yours?”

“Wednesday.” She leans against the folding table while I stack paper cups. “Boss said he’s getting me an ice cream cake from Sweet Dreams.”

“My birthday is on Friday, and I’m so jealous you’re getting a cake from Sweet Dreams.”

Her eyes widen. “We’re almost birthday twins. How old are you going to be? I’m turning ni—”

“Cassie!” Boston’s voice booms across the gym. I jerk my head up to find him staring at us from the court.