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“She doesn’t. It’s just what I do.”
“Huh? Does her mom not buy cool snacks?”
Molly huffs as she moves quickly to play offense. “Nicole has a ton of cool snacks. Her mom gives her Nutella. She doesn’t share because it has nuts.”
“Sucks you’re allergic to nuts.”
“I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Then, why doesn’t she share? Your friend sounds like a user. We’re gonna have to discuss this further.” I rip the puck across the table. “Score!” I shout as I sink the puck into her goal.
My day with the ten-year-old has gone well. We started off by going on a tour of the house. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, all recently renovated by Rob in the last year. The only room in the house that doesn’t seem complete is a small room off the downstairs bathroom, which has mint-green walls and a sofa that looks like it once lived in a college dorm.
We spent an hour in Molly’s room, being ultra girlie and giving ourselves makeovers. Then, I helped her find a preteen-approved outfit for a party she’s going to. After, we baked, played basketball, had lunch, went for a walk, did some fishing in a nearby pond, and now, we’re hanging out in the basement game room.
Molly is an easy kid to hang with. She’s a tomboy, having spent most of her year on a sports field and less watching television. She has an iPad limit of one hour a day, which she didn’t even try to take advantage of with me as the quasi-nanny. I had to open my laptop to take care of something for a client, so that one hour of iPad entertainment for her helped a ton.
Overall, it’s been a good day.
Especially since I’m kicking her butt at air hockey.
“This room is great. You’ve got enough games to occupy a party of twenty ten-year-olds. You must be down here a lot.”
Aside from air hockey, there’s foosball, Skee-Ball, and darts.
“When Jesse went to high school, he became too cool for school. All he cares about are his dirtbag friends.”
I line up my air hockey puck for another round. I hit it toward her. “What’s a dirtbag friend like?”
“The kind that shoplifts at the mall. Jesse was arrested last month for stealing a shirt from Hot Topic. Dad had to pick him up at the police station inside the mall. Did you know they have those there?”
“It’s just a room where mall cops take you while you wait for the real police.”
“If they’re not real, how can they arrest you?”
“It’s called shopkeeper’s privilege. It’s a rule that allows mall security to detain a suspected shoplifter long enough for the police to come. The police are the ones who make the arrest. Was Jesse arrested by the actual police?”
She swipes at the puck, giving me a good run for my money. “I don’t think so. I think he confessed so they let him go.”
“Oh man. Do not confess even if it is to a mall cop. You can walk yourself into a criminal conviction in exchange for avoiding a few hours of bother if you just wait it out at the mall. Trust me, I learned the hard way.”
Molly bolts upright, leaving her goal defenseless and letting the puck slide in. “You were arrested?”
I rub my forehead as I realize what I said. “No. Not me. A friend,” I lie. “She stole a lip gloss when she was twelve because someone had dared her, and the cop on the scene tried to make an example of her and took the whole ordeal overboard. Never ever do something just because some idiot dares you. If they’re daring you, it’s because they’re not brave enough to do it themselves, and there’s probably a reason for it.”
Shoplifting at twelve was not a high point in the life of Tara Parsons.
Molly raises a curious brow. “If you weren’t the one arrested, were you the one who made the dare?”
“Nice try, kid.” I score on her again and do a dance. “Victory!”
She tosses her handheld pusher dramatically. “Doesn’t count. I wasn’t paying attention. Besides, you’re supposed to let me win.”
“You want to win? You need to earn it.”
I spin around and walk toward the counter where I left my water bottle. What I’m learning today is that while the ranch’s property might not be pristine, the house is meticulously updated. Every room features fresh paint and is adorned with expert craftsmanship. The basement showcases a long wall of shiplap, running alongside posters of iconic moments in sports. I’m currently looking at a photo capturing Muhammad Ali standing triumphantly over Sonny Liston. It’s a timeless image that evokes memories of my dad—a sports enthusiast who took me to numerous boxing matches during my childhood.
Rob put a lot of thought into the design of this room—industrial ceiling, paired with rustic features. Either he loves gaming or he wanted his kids to have a nice space to hang out.
