Page 97 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
The teenage girl’s attention switched to her screen. “Oh!You’re not Mr. Foster.” Her eyebrows lifted in an interested way. “Who are you,please?”
“I’m Kip.”
“Is Mr. Foster there?”
“Not at the moment.”
She folded her hands on the desk and calmly asked, “Why areyou in Mr. Foster’s room?”
“I needed some advice, and I thought maybe ….” Kiphesitated. This was ridiculous. She was just a kid. Leaning forward, he asked,“Who areyou, please?”
“Isla Ward of Stately House. This is Uncle Jackie, ourbutler.”
“Jacques Smythe.” The young man, who knew how to gussy,offered a sultry smile. “You haven’t answered Isla, pretty boy. Why are you inJimsy’s room? Are your intentions honorable?”
Kip got the distinct impression that Jacques hoped theyweren’t.
Isla must have agreed, since she rolled her eyes and battedthe butler’s arm. “Behave.”
“He looks decidedly roguish,” countered Jacques. “I’m onlythinking of dear, sweet Jimsy. Isn’t he meant to be a possible suitor for you?”
“No,” the girl said firmly, but she was blushing.
Kip propped his chin on his hand, enjoying the unfoldingdrama in spite of his disappointment. Before the Emergence, when technology wasoff-limits, Jiminy had been so isolated. Clearly, he’d made friends.
Isla said, “I would be pleased to advise you, Kip.”
Cute kid. Kip smiled and shrugged. “I don’t think you can….”
Isla’s chin tipped up, and she crisply announced, “I amquite knowledgeable on a variety of topics and sympathetic to the wants andworries of every clan. What is the nature of your inquiry?”
Kip was already shaking his head, partly in amazement. Hetried to match her formality. “It’s a matter of some delicacy.”
“My favorite,” murmured Jacques.
What a flirt. Kip had half a mind to mess with him. But thebutler’s expression underwent a sudden shift. His eyes lit up like Christmashad come, though he quickly schooled his features into an unconvincing air ofdisinterest.
Another voice carried through, blandly amused. “Why have thetwo of you commandeered Michael’s desk?”
“Language lessons,” Isla said primly. “Wehavepermission.”
“Oh? And is your virtual companion conversant in Japanese?”
Another face loomed into view, both amused and accusing.
“Nope.” Kip figured he was in about as much trouble as hecould be. Leaning heavily on the manners his mother had harped on ever sincehe’d found his feet, he gave a little wave. “Good evening, Lord Mossberne.”
A bejeweled hand planted itself on the desk, and sapphireeyes narrowed.
He smiled and let his tail flick into view. May as well bememorable.
“And you are …?”
“Kip.”
The spokesperson for the dragon clans hummed. “Are you aWoodacre? Youlooklike a Woodacre.”
“Yes.”
