Prologue - Crybaby
657 Words
It was a stand-off. The two older boys, both aged seven, tried to assert their dominance by folding their arms in front of their chests and looking the younger boy up and down. The youngest boy, blond and blue-eyed like one of the older ones, his cousin, copied the stance. He also tapped his right foot in front of him. He made quick taps, equal parts amusing and annoying, at least to the two other boys. His Mama would have called him a sweetheart.
“You want to be our friend, right?” asked the older blond boy.
“But you’re my cousin, Lance. You don’t really have a choice but be my friend,” the youngest one, about five, protested.
“It doesn’t mean we’re friends,” Lance grumbled. “Jason is my best friend. Right, Jason?”
Jason, dark-haired with almond-shaped brown eyes, looked at his best friend hesitantly. He didn’t like being mean to the younger boy, but there was the pressure coming from Lance and the allure of the ice rink calling to him. Jake, Carter, and the other guys should be there by now, while they were stuck on babysitting duty. The babysitter? Missing in action. She called in sick, and Jason’s parents promised they wouldn’t take long.
“Lance, I think we can just wait for when my mom and dad come back. We can’t really -.”
“Oh, we can,” Lance insisted, still staring down at his cousin. “This one here has been a little pest and he’ll pay for it.”
“A little pest? I’m not a little pest.”
“Hans is not a little pest,” Jason echoed. “He’s a little genius. Let’s face it.”
“I mean adding and subtracting with regrouping? Simple multiplication? I get it. Why can’t he just stop at that and be done with it?”
“Well, he can’t help but be good on the ice.” Jason shrugged.
“Yeah. Jason knows I can beat both of you at hockey!”
Hans straightened his back to make himself taller than he really was.
“Pest,” Lance insisted, spit coming out of his mouth. He had two missing front teeth, and Hans had been at the receiving end of most of his saliva. The poor boy wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Leave him. I’m going back to the living room and watch Emily,” Jason said, sounding a little resigned.
“No. We are not watching Emily. Hans will be watching Emily. The guys are waiting for us at the rink.”
“Bring me, please,” whined Hans.
“You’re watching Emily.”
“I’m only five, Lance,” he reminded his cousin. “And Jason, Emily hates me.”
“How can she hate you? She’s only two and a half,” Jason grunted.
“You can’t leave a five year old to watch a toddler,” Hans complained.
“s**t. He’s more reasonable than you, Lance.”
“Language!” Hans warned, with his little hands on his hips.
Lance’s mouth formed to shout out a swear word at his cousin, but changed his mind. The conversation was going nowhere and the boys were waiting for them. He ran out of the gate. As if on instinct, Jason ran after his best friend. Little Hans was left standing in the yard. Right on cue, Emily cried.
Hans went in, bracing himself for disaster. He had heard his father describe Emily as a “colkee” baby, whatever that was. He was pretty sure it meant grumpy. She was supposed to be in her playpen, but when Hans surveyed the living room, he saw that the playpen was open and that the little girl was only a few feet away from him.
“Oh no.”
Oh no, indeed. He was soon at the receiving end of a flying spoon.
- Writer
