Page 79 of Organized Chaos
I wanted to scream at Chris to shut up. He seemingly thought himself braver, but now wasn’t the time to provoke Milo. Not when he was about to hand out Chris’ punishment.
“Too bad. I was going to give them a piece of my mind for bad parenting and for letting their freak,” Milo emphasized on the word freak, “of a son run around without a leash. Since they aren’t here, think I’m going to...” Milo looked around as if searching for inspiration. His eyes zeroed into something nearby. “There. I’m going to hang you off that flagpole and give you some time to reflect on your actions.”
Wished I could assent to this being a joke. I had no doubt in my mind that Milo fully planned to carry out this ludicrous sentence. He was a reasonable man until the mama bear side of him took over. Then all bets were off.
“No!” Chris’ snarky reserve finally broke, a tinge of fear coming off him. “Please, don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Milo,” I stepped forward with determination. “You need to put that boy down.”
Milo finally turned to face me though he made no gesture of letting Chris go. “This little shit thinks he can—”
“Please don’t curse in the house of God,” I interrupted.
“It’s the parking lot, not your precious house of God,” he retorted.
I ignored the technicality. “Milo, you really need to put him down before someone sees you.”
Chris seemed flabbergasted that his fate was being decided while hanging in mid-air. But he was officially scared of Milo and smartly kept his trap shut.
I tried again. “You’re making too big of a deal. Bullying is just a part of life. Some would even say a rite of passage.”
Milo huffed. “That’s ridiculous. I wasn’t bullied.”
“Probably because you were the bully.”
Milo leaned back, affronted. “I have never bullied anyone in my life.”
With my eyes, I pointedly raked the scene in front of me, hinting at the twelve-year-old boy Milo was holding up by the collar.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s different. This little shit deserves it.”
“I bet that’s what he says when he bullies other people,” I countered, silently challenging him to disagree.
“Fine. You have a point,” he gritted out. It killed him, but Milo always admitted when he had been bested in an argument. “For once, I wished you’d act like a normal eleven-year-old kid.”
Chris looked triumphant that his captivity was ending until Milo stampeded all over that hope.
“I’m still not letting this dipshit off the hook.” No, I supposed he wouldn’t. I expected nothing less. “If I didn’t get here in time today—”
“I got lucky that you did,” I interrupted. “But next time, you might not get here in time. And if I don’t gain the experience to handle myself in these situations, the fallout might be worse.”
Milo nodded, considering my words. “I... agree,” he said somewhat reluctantly. “What do you propose?”
“Letting me fight my own battles for a change.”
Milo stared at the boy he held up in the air. With a sigh, he lowered Chris, though he didn’t let go of his grip. “It’s your lucky day,” he ground out. “Mia needs experience, and apparently, you are an expert in this matter. Go ahead. Bully my sister.”
Chris’s incredulous face simply shifted back and forth between us, trying to decide if we were a family of loons or if this was a legitimate discussion.
Unfortunately, this was one of our tamer dialects.
Milo raised his brows. “I don’t have all day. Start bullying. Mia, do you know how to make a fist?”
Chris was no longer able to process the situation. I felt bad for the guy, but I had only managed to deduce his sentence. If he didn’t prove his worth to Milo, he might as well be hanging from that flagpole all night.
“I’m waiting,” Milo said impatiently.
I leaned an inch closer and whispered to Chris, “Just pull my hair or something.”
