Page 57 of Pucking Secret

“Oh?” I frown. “Are they mean to you?”

She shakes her head. “No, but they tease my friend Casey a lot because he has to wear these big glasses that make his eyes look kind of buggy, but it’s not his fault because he needs them to see. I tell them to knock it off, but then they tease me and say I’m his girlfriend, which I’m not. Casey and I are just friends, but I don’t want them to make fun of him. He’s really nice.”

Geez, isn’t she just in first grade? Why are they worrying about boyfriends and girlfriends already? “Have you told your teacher about the bullies?”

“Yeah, and she told them to stop.” Millie releases a dramatic sigh. “But they’re just sneakier about it now.”

I feel a strange surge of protectiveness for Millie and I don’t like to hear that she and her friend are getting picked on. However, I’m also crazy proud of her for standing up for this Casey kid.

“Well, the next time they pick on you or Casey, tell your teacher again,” I instruct. “But you kill them with kindness, okay?”

She frowns up at me, clearly confused. “What’s that mean?”

“It means that even if they’re mean to you, you don’t stoop to their level. They just want to upset you, so if you just keep being nice to them, they won’t want to pick on you because they aren’t getting the reaction they want.”

“Huh.” Millie appears thoughtful for a moment and then grins. “Okay! I’ll try that, Owen.”

“All right, and you let me know how it goes, okay?”

“Okay!”

Millie chats the rest of the drive about school and her friends, barely stopping to take a full breath. I don’t mind, though. I actually feel happy that she’s comfortable enough with me to be so talkative.

As soon as we step into the house, Millie kicks off her tiny sneakers by the door and races toward the kitchen. It’s a cozy space with dark wood cabinets, a laminate topped island, a ceramic farmhouse sink, and appliances that are a little dated. Everything is clean and organized, though, so nothing seems as old as it might look otherwise.

“Come on, Owen!” she calls over her shoulder. “We’re going to make thebestice cream sundaes ever!”

I chuckle, hanging my jacket by the door and following her with our bag of groceries.

“You sound pretty confident,” I tease as I step into the kitchen. “Let’s see if you can actually back it up.”

Millie is already dragging a stool over to the counter. She climbs up and sets her teddy bear on the counter nearby.

“Oh, IknowI can,” she says matter-of-factly. “I’ve been perfecting my sundae skills foryears.”

“Years, huh?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Impressive for someone who’s… what? Six?”

“Six and three-quarters,” she corrects me with a serious look, and I can’t help but laugh.

As I unpack the grocery bag, I notice that she’s sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth as she watches me, her eyes bright with anticipation. This cracks me up. I do that exact gesture when I’m concentrating on something. Am I already rubbing off on her? How quickly do kids pick up on stuff like that? Weird.

“Okay, Owen,” she says, plunking down the jar of marshmallow fluff in front of me. “You’re on fluff duty.”

“Fluff duty?” I ask. “That sounds like serious business.”

“Itis,” she declares. “You can’t mess it up.”

“I’ll do my best, coach,” I say with a mock salute.

We get to work, and chaos ensues almost immediately. I get ice cream into the waffle cone bowls and hand over hers so shecan put her own toppings on. That turns out to be a bit of a mistake. Millie tries to squeeze too much chocolate syrup into her bowl and it overflows, spilling onto the counter. I go to grab paper towels, but she beats me to it and ends up knocking over the jar of sprinkles in the process.

“Uh-oh,” she says, staring at the mess with wide eyes.

“Uh-oh is right,” I tease. “I specifically told your mom we wouldn’t get chocolate all over the kitchen, and you’ve managed to get chocolateandsprinkles everywhere!”

“It’syourfault,” she insists, pointing at me with a spoon. “Mommy won’t get mad at me!”

“My fault?” I laugh, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “You’re the one who tried to drown your sundae in syrup!”

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