Page 48 of The Deadbeat Next Door

She dropped her gaze to the floor and shook her head. “Dad just started a new job and he works late. He won’t be home until after ten, anyway.”

“I’d still feel better if you let him know where you are.”

“Um, okay,” she said. “Can I borrow your phone? I forgot to charge mine.”

“Sure.” I handed her my phone and she sent a quick text to her dad. She gave me back my phone and turned to the door.

“Kayla.” I waited, but she didn’t turn to face me. “If there’s anything you want to talk about or anything I can do, please let me know.”

“Yeah, okay.” She left and trotted across the yard back to Cody’s house. I balled my hands into fists and shook them out, trying to shake my frustration that she wouldn’t tell me what was going on, that she wouldn’t let me help.

When I got back to the house, Cody had the kids seated at the table, plates and little glasses of milk in front of them. “Just in time,” he said when I walked through the door. He gave me a peck on the cheek and pointed me toward a seat at the other end of the table. “Are you sure you don’t need help with anything?”

“Just sit,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

I sat and watched him carry in a big bowl of spaghetti, the noodles and sauce already mixed together, and a plate of warm bread. I might not have kids of my own, but I babysat my way through high school and college and I knew how picky kids could be. I expected at least one of them to complain that she or he didn’t want noodles with sauce on them or refuse to eat the garden salad that Cody placed on the table next, but no one complained. Kayla scooped food onto Jenny’s plate and Simon piled his plate high on his own. Kayla took a more modest portion. They all waited for me and Cody to get our food, but the moment we started to eat, they dug in.

They ate like they hadn’t had food in days, and my heart broke for those poor kids. Maybe they were just normal kids with high metabolisms and a hungry day, but I suspected they hadn’t been getting enough food to eat for a while. Once they’d slowed down a bit, I did my best to make conversation.

“Jenny,” I said. “How are you liking kindergarten?”

“Fun.”

“And Simon, what grade are you in now?”

“Fourth.”

“That’s right,” I said, like I knew. “And who’s your teacher?”

“Mrs. Hollyoak.”

“I’ve met her a few times,” I said. “She seems like a really fun teacher.”

“I guess,” Simon said.

Okay, I was striking out here. I knew school wasn’t the best place to start a conversation with kids, but I was more than a little afraid to ask about anything to do with their home lives.

“Have you kids seen that new movie about the singing pig?” Cody asked.

“Petunia Porky Superstar?” Jenny asked.

“That’s the one,” Cody said. “It looks pretty good, but I was hoping to get some more opinions before I go see it myself.”

Jenny lowered her eyes and shook her head. “Daddy doesn’t take us to the movies anymore.”

“He’s just really busy with work,” Kayla said.

“You’re lying,” Jenny said. “He hasn’t been going to work. He just sits around all day, doing nothing.”

Kayla glanced at me, her expression wary. “Well, he’s at work now,” she said. “He just had a couple of bad days.”

Jenny opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but Kayla gave her a stern look and she shut it again.

“You know,” I said. “Cody has a great climbing tree in his back yard. How about you three go back there and play and Cody and I will clean up the kitchen?”

“Yeah,” Simon said, jumping out of his seat and running for the back door. Jenny was right on his heels. Kayla got up more slowly. “Daddy didn’t do nothing,” Kaylee said. “He just wasn’t feeling good.”

“I understand,” I said. “It happens to all of us.”

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