Page 14 of The Sleight Before Christmas

“More like bickering,” I say.

“Because you were infuriating,” her weighted gaze follows me when I scoop up my bowl to rinse it.

“I didn’t want you to know—”

“Anything,” my wife counters.

Gracie stares between us as we ping-pong back and forth, seeming just as bewildered by our affection and banter before she speaks up. “Okay, the joke is over. I need the money,” she panics. “We’re going shopping after school.”

“Tough shit,” I state.

“Tough shit,” Peyton parrots, knowing better.

“No Playdoh set,” I tell Peyton.

“Jesus for Christ, Daddy!” Peyton shouts in scold.

“Gracie, go to school,” Serena jumps in, standing as Peyton doles her his order.

“No, Mommy, you eatwith me.”

“No, I think I’ll get ready,” Serena delivers before walking out of the kitchen. Peyton gawks at her.

“But I don’t want to eatall alone!”

“You don’t need me to eat with you. You don’t like it when I talk to you. You bite me.”

“I was just playing,” he calls after her.

“I don’t like playing with biters,” Serena tosses over her shoulder before shutting our bedroom door.

“I sorry, Mommy! I won’t today,” Peyton yells to the closed door as Gracie stares after her. It’s then I feel genuine unease start to roll off my daughter—the gravity of what’s happening as she scrutinizes me. It’s then that I finally give her my attention while delivering the raw truth.

“You think I haven’t been onto you? You think I’m clueless? I’m not, Gracie. Never have been. I just hoped the manipulative side of you was a phase. A warring hormones type of moment in time. Something that would eventually fall away as you aged and grew out of it, but you know what? You’re just not nice. At all. I’m surprised youhavefriends.”

Gracie gasps as the horn sounds again.

“So you’re really not going to give me the money?”

“Case in point,” I shake my head. “You don’t care about anything that matters.”

“I care about my friends getting a basket.”

“So you can get yours,” I state. “Go to school, Gracie, because if you miss your ride, I’m locking you out of this house.”

“Mommy!” Peyton barks in order.

“Enough,” I bark back. “You bit your mom. You can eat alone.”

“You’re going to be mean to a baby?” Gracie jabs, and it lands, but I manage to counter.

“Nice try. You going to let a baby swing from a rope?”

Thirty seconds later, Gracie slams the front door so hard the walls rattle. It’s then I deduct present nineteen and text her as much. Then I remember her phone is in the safe. Guess she’ll find out on Christmas.

“Why is she so mad?” Peyton asks.

“Because she knows her parents aren’t going to put up with her being bad anymore.” I narrow my eyes on him.

---