Page 93 of Betting on the Brainiac

“Hey. Guess I fell asleep. Sorry about that.”

“You’re fine.”

She sits up and nestles Little Stripey against her chest, cupping him close. He settles down. Little Stripey is no dummy.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say.

“Something bad?” she asks on a yawn. “I can’t tell if that’s a tired voice or a serious voice.”

“Both.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No.”

“Is it bad?”

That’s a loaded question. “No.”

“Okay. Where do you stand on good news/bad news? What do you want first?”

“You’ve got bad news?” I can’t even guess what it could be, but it already gives me that sour stomach feeling.

“Kind of?”

“Let’s hear it.”

She tells me about Kaitlyn’s visit, how her sister will be reporting back to their parents, and how the drop-in inspections will probably be ongoing.

“I’m sorry about this,” she says. “We have a couple of options here. I can sue them to release the funds. The burden of proof is on them since I’ve provided the legal paperwork to meet their terms. The lawsuit might be enough to get them to back down.”

I don’t love the idea of her having to sue her parents. “What else you got?”

“I move in here for real.”

On my worst day, I haven’t deserved that kind of torture. “Neither of us wants that.”

“No, really, take your time with that one.” Her tone is teasing, but her smile is stiff.

“I’m positive you’d rather stay with your roommates, that’s all. Got a Plan C?”

“Make it look like I moved in. I bring over stuff to leave in the other bedroom. Stick a cheap bed in there. I’ll tell Kaitlyn I’m not bothering to glam it up since I’m only going to be there for a year.”

“That moves us into active lie territory.” I hate it. I’m already telling too many lies of omission.

“I know.” She sighs. “I’ve spent all day thinking about whether the ends justify the means. I have a meeting on Monday to set up the Dhaka fund. The idea of canceling it and making those people struggle for another four years because of a technicality feels like a bigger wrong. What do you think?”

“I think you’re right.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think they’d take it this far. I hate that this keeps complicating everything for you.”

Not more than I’ve complicated it for myself. “It’s fine, Madison. It doesn’t mean you have to be over here more if you don’t want to. Only your stuff does.”

“True.” She falls quiet for a second, biting at her bottom lip.

Lucky. I’d like to do that.

I force my eyes away.

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