Page 56 of Saving the Last Heir
“Well,yeah,” I said, following her out. “It doesn’t sound like a typical boy’s name. I meant who…”
I trailed off as a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old, walked in, clutching her backpack.
“Hey, sweetie,” Shyanne said, crouching in front of the girl. “How are you doing today?”
“Good,” the girl mumbled. “Can I sit in the waiting area? Like normal?”
“Yeah. Are you hungry?”
The girl went to shake her head, then paused, eyes darting to the pizza boxes on the work tables, then nodded vigorously.
“Go sit down, and I’ll bring you some.”
I was struck by how gentle and calm this powerful no-nonsense woman was with the girl. I nudged Brent.
“Who is that?” I whispered as Shyanne put a few slices on a plate.
Brent glanced up, his usually goofy smile fading. “Oh. That’s Mariposa. She’s a local kid.”
I looked at my watch. “Shouldn’t she be in school?”
“She does virtual school from home,” Brent said, his eyes tracking Shyanne as she walked to the waiting area with a plate of food and a bottle of water. “Her mom pulled her out of school for bullying or something. The mom tries, but it’s tight. She works double shifts every day and has no money for a babysitter.Plus, their landlord is a bitch, who won’t fix the air conditioning. Place gets to be like an oven when it’s nice out. She comes here to work on school stuff and hang in the waiting room because of the AC. Shyanne always tries to feed her when she can.”
“She does thiseverytime the girl comes by?” I said, tearing my eyes from Shyanne to look at Brent.
“Yeah. She stops by at least once or twice a week. Kid’s great. She never barges in. She knows we’re sometimes doing dangerous stuff and willalwaysknock, and when she does, Shyanne brings her in and mothers her like a damn momma hen,” he said, shaking his head and chuckling.
“Hey, blondie,” Carlo called out, waving at Brent. “You gonna work, or flap that jaw all day?”
Brent grabbed the dirty, oiled rag hanging from his belt and balled it up before throwing it at the other man. “Calm the fuck down. I’ll be right there.”
He went back to his work, and I watched Shyanne speaking to the girl who was chewing pizza as she got her laptop out. Taking a look around, I found the entire shop buzzing with activity, each person helping the other. Not a single person wasn’t pulling their weight, andeveryoneseemed fine with picking up the slack. It was like a family. Even the good-natured ribbing and name-calling reminded me of siblings messing with each other.
Walking over to the doorway of the waiting area, I listened in on the conversation.
“Do you need any help?” Shyanne asked. “I’m not very good at social studies, but I can give it a shot.”
Mariposa put her pizza down and clicked a button on her computer. “There is one question I don’t know. I’m not supposed to look it up, though. I think we had a lesson on it a week ago, but I don’t remember it.”
“Let’s hear it,” Shyanne said, smiling at the girl. “I bet I know it.”
“Please name the battle with the single deadliest day of the American Civil War. I keep typing Gettysburg, but it says that’s wrong.”
Shyanne grunted, her smile twisting into a frown.
“That’s what I would have said too,” she muttered, then tilted the screen and squinted at it. “Maybe it’s a typo or?—”
“The Battle of Antietam,” I said.
Shyanne snapped her head around, and the girl looked at me with the wide eyes of a deer caught in the gaze of a mountain lion.
“The battle ofwhat?” Shyanne said, gaping at me like I’d spouted nonsense.
“Antietam,” I repeated. “Gettysburg was the deadliest battle, but that took place over three days. Antietam was only one day. That’s what they’re asking.”
Mariposa, still eyeing me like a crocodile ready to pounce on her, quickly typed the word in. She shook her head, and I spelled it out for her, then a big green check mark appeared on the screen.
“Oh. Wow,” Mariposa said. “Thanks.”
