Page 79 of American Hellhound
He blinked the crust from his eyes and sat up. He could see through the window that it was still dark out. The clock on his VCR told him it was ten after six.
Maggie must have heard him stir. “Morning,” she called from the kitchen. “I already got Aidan up and breakfast is on the way.”
“Bacon?” he asked, rubbing his bristly face with both hands. For once, he wasn’t hungover, and he didn’t know what to make of that.
“And eggs.”
Baconand eggs? He must still be asleep.
He got to his feet and shuffled into the kitchen, squinting against the lights. “I didn’t think I had bacon.” He moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder at the hissing skillet.
“You didn’t.” She lifted the crisp slices out with a fork and began laying in another round. “I ran out to Leroy’s and got some.”
“Youwhat?”
“You can call me kid all you want, but I’m old enough to run errands, Ghost.”
“I know.” It was just so unexpected, was all. “It smells good.”
“Good.”
So did she. She’d showered, hair still damp in places, and smelled of citrus and flowers. She was dressed in a pale pink sweater, jeans, and low-heeled brown boots. She was so much more tempting than breakfast, and he took a hasty step back before he gave in to the urge to touch her.
“Bacon and eggs!” Aidan cheered as he trooped into the room, dressed and clean-faced and up earlier than Ghost could remember.
The unforeseen danger of bringing Maggie into his home: he’d never want her to leave.
~*~
Sometimes, Maggie reflected, you didn’t realize how badly something stressed you until it was removed. Thus was the case with her mother.
She was busier, juggling the cooking and time with Aidan with her homework. But she felt energized. She didn’t dread any part of her days.
She enjoyed spending time with kids, always had, and she had her favorites among her babysitting clients. But Aidan didn’t seem to look at her as a preferred sitter. He was a boy badly in need of a mother; he was starved for affection. He was always smiling in her presence. He obeyed every suggestion and correction. In the afternoons, Maggie went skateboarding with him in the parking lot, helped him construct Lego fortresses, flipped through his favorite car and bike magazines. His reading skills needed some work and she began subtly tutoring him, disguising it as play.
And then there was Ghost. Half the time he seemed surprised, even startled to find her somewhere in his apartment. And the other half he gobbled her meager cooking like it was ambrosia, thanked her with a ducked head and humble tone, and watched her with hooded eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking.
It was an unexpected sort of peace. And like peace of all kinds, it only lasted about a week.
“Maggie,” her Spanish teacher,Señora Diaz said on Tuesday. “Can you stay a minute?”
A few of her classmates glanced over with mild curiosity – or in Stephanie Cleveland’s case, something like glee.
“Sure,” Maggie said, watching the rest of her Spanish IV class file out, wishing she was among them. She walked up to Señora Diaz’s desk with the dread of someone about to face a firing squad.
“Maggie,” her teacher said, expression pinched with concern. “You weren’t at Spanish Club yesterday afternoon.”
No, because she’d been watching cartoons with Aidan.
“Is everything alright?”
It was mandatory to provide either a doctor or parent note for any missed club meetings. And here she stood, in good health, not in possession of a note. “I’m fine, ma’am.” She forced a smile. “Something came up.”
“I hope your parents are okay.”
“Oh, they’re fine.” They hated her, but were fine otherwise.
Maggie wasn’t surprised to find Stephanie waiting for her when she left the classroom, leaned negligently back against a row of lockers, fluffing her hair. She grinned when she spotted Maggie and fell into step beside her.
