Part 17 (2/2)
Marcus smirked and crouched down to let Zeke get a good look. ”Nothing much. It's just hair.”
”But it's different colors.”
”And?” the Protector challenged.
Ransom snickered softly as Zeke continued his inspection, then turned to his mother to ask, ”Can I have two, too?”
”Maybe when you're older,” Momma replied, unperturbed by the boy's fascination. With Zeke, if it wasn't one thing, it was another.
”What colors do you like?” Marcus asked, his expression serious.
Zeke's expression scrunched thoughtfully. ”Orange and red ... like fire!”
”Hide the crayons,” Ransom advised in an undertone.
”Are you kidding?” Prissie whispered back. ”He moved beyond crayons when he was three. I'd say hide the spray paint.”
”We could try food coloring,” Ransom proposed.
Her eyes widened in alarm. ”Don't give him any ideas!”
Koji raised a finger to his lips, enforcing her plea with a shush, and Ransom held up his hands in surrender.
As usual, the visiting went on long after the clean-up was done. Prissie sat on the floor next to the bench where Tad had sprawled and let her eyes slide shut. She was exhausted-both physically and emotionally-and all she really wanted right now was home and bed. Conversation melted into a pleasant buzz as she drifted perilously close to sleep, but as soon as she was quiet, the nagging sense of urgency returned. What was it she was forgetting? She could almost remember ... almost... .
”Miss Priss?” came a low voice. ”You okay?”
She woke with a start and stared in confusion at Ransom. ”Umm ... what?”
Her cla.s.smate sat beside her before gesturing at her face. ”Why are you crying?”
Touching her cheek, she found it wet and quickly scrubbed at it, muttering, ”I can't remember.”
”Bad dream?” he ventured.
She sniffed and shook her head. ”No ... I mean ... there's something I've forgotten.”
Ransom slouched against the wall. ”You know something's missing, but you don't know what it is?”
”Yes.”
”Let's see,” he mused aloud. ”Did you turn in all your homework?”
”Of course.”
”Are all your farm jobs done?”
”Farm jobs?” she echoed incredulously.
”Sure. Milk the cows, slop the hogs, sheer the sheep - farm stuff.”
She giggled in spite of herself. ”We don't keep cows or sheep, and Tad and Koji are in charge of the pigs.”
Ransom glanced at her sleeping brother and nodded. ”If the porkers are covered, then maybe it's ... a birthday?”
”No,” she sighed. ”And it's useless to guess. I told you, I can't remember.”
”But it's important, right?” he countered.
”I think so.” Shaking her head, she admitted, ”I know so.”
”Maybe I'll jog your memory. Besides, it'll pa.s.s the time until Mr. Mailman has his fill of chit-chat.”
Prissie looked around the foyer and soon spotted Milo, who was caught up in conversation. ”That could be a while.”
”No big deal. I get to sleep in tomorrow.”
She frowned. ”But tomorrow's Sun Oh. Right.”
His smile was a little sheepish. ”Guess you'll be right back here in the morning.”
”Yes.”
Ransom stretched out his legs, then asked, ”Is something lost?”
Something wasn't, but someone was, and Prissie winced. ”Why do you ask?”
”Dunno. I guess there's not much difference between lost and forgotten,” he explained. ”Out of sight, out of mind.”
”Oh,” she managed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Was that it? Not quite.
She must have been lost in thought for a while because he reached over to tap her shoulder. ”I think you drifted off with your eyes open.”
”Sorry,” she muttered.
His eyebrows slowly rose. ”Can I borrow that frou-frou thing in your hair?”
Reaching back, she touched the satin ribbon she'd used to tie the end of her braid. ”This?”
”Yep.”
”Why?”
He held out his hand. ”Because I know a remembering trick.”
Baffled, Prissie gave one end of the ribbon a tug, then pulled it free and handed it over.
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