Page 36 of The Summer of Wild

"Alright," I tilt my head to the side, confused.

"We need you to create a diversion," Mom crosses her arms over her chest.

"I already snuck my suit out to the car," Dad explains, "but I don't want Frank to see me leave."

"I'm sure Frank is still asleep. They were up all night," I grimace, "moaning."

"I told her she wasn't allowed to let him sleep over," Mom whisper-yells at Dad.

"Isla's paying rent now," he rolls his eyes. "She said since she pays for the room, she should be allowed to have over visitors."

"Your house," I yawn, "your rules."

"Grow a backbone," Mom snaps at Dad.

"Jill," he looks at her, hurt.

"Sorry," she shrugs. "Been a stressful week. I lost two clients."

"Why?" I ask her.

"The Porters moved to Tennessee, and the Garber's dog died."

"Oh."

"It's fine," she says as she holds her hands out to the side, pinching her thumbs and forefingers together in a Zen-like motion. "I will get more clients. I will walk more dogs. I will be more successful than ever before."

Mom's a manifester. She's a big believer in speaking things into existence. It's always worked for her. I, on the other hand, see things a little differently. Like Dad, I think we make our own way in the world. I also believe that good things happen to good people. Which is why good things always happen for Mom. She might not be very bright, but she has a heart of gold.

"So, you want me to distract Isla and Frank while Dad sneaks out of the house without being questioned or seen?"

Mom and Dad look at each other and nod before saying, "Yes," in unison.

"You do realize this is your house, right?" I question.

"We're just trying to get through the summer," Dad exhales. "Then we're sending Isla back to college. Where she belongs."

"The college that you pay for," I raise an eyebrow. "And she's currently failing."

"Can you please just distract them?" Mom pleads. "I don't want your father to be late. This is a very important interview."

"I will distract them," I hold up a hand, "but you two should seriously consider how this looks. Living under the tyrannical reign of your eldest daughter and her lecherous boyfriend. It's very Henry the 8th."

"I thought he started his own church to divorce his first wife and then killed Anne Boleyn. That's what happened in that Showtime series. I don't see how that's the same as what's going on here," Mom furrows her brow.

"I didn't mean it literally," I try explaining. "I meant in the sense that we're living with a tyrant who beheads anyone who disagrees with them. But instead of beheading, Isla cuts us down with her words."

"We'll discuss this later," Dad interrupts. "I have to go."

"Fine," I cross my arms over my chest. "I will distract Queen Isla and Frank the Jester."

"But wouldn't he be King Frank?" Mom scrunches her face.

"Over my dead body," Dad mutters under his breath.

I leave Mom and Dad hiding in the laundry room and stomp up the stairs. I want Isla and Frank the Fornicator to hear me coming because I don't want to interrupt more moaning. It was bad enough listening to it all night long.

When I reach Isla's room, I knock hard. Then again. And again. I keep knocking until she throws the door open and glares at me.

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