BRAT and the Kids of Warriors by Michael Joseph Lyons

Author:Michael Joseph Lyons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michael Joseph Lyons
Published: 2018-01-15T19:45:29+00:00

16

Ingrid

Jack’s eyes were closed in concentration. It was one of those slightly warmer January days. He could actually feel the sun’s warmth on his face. He breathed in the faint smell of the forest floor, dampened by the melting snow. And maybe he was picking up on the scent of pine—or was he making that part up because he knew there were some evergreen trees out there?

I’m wasting my time, Jack thought. This is never gonna work.

He was alone on the balcony of his quarters, practicing his self-imposed drills. He thought of them as his anti-shutdown drills; touch, scent, hearing, sight. Once again his doubts broke his concentration. Why am I doing this? Even if it somehow manages to keep me awake in church—so what? It’s not like I’m going to shut my eyes and try to smell pine needles the next time Kerrigan is standing there ready to kick my—

“Jack!”

He whirled around and saw his mother rapping her knuckle on the large, glass panel, signaling him to come back in.

Had she been calling him?

As he walked into the warm living room, she said, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Queenie was shaking hands with a rather thin young lady. She was a head taller than Queenie and had short, dark, spiky hair.

“Jack, this is Ingrid, your new nanny,” Mrs. McMasters announced.

Nanny—she’s a nanny? Definitely not what Jack had expected. An older woman, sure, but . . .

Mrs. McMasters inconspicuously reached down and took hold of Jack’s arm, digging her long, red nails into his bicep just hard enough to get his undivided attention. “Manners,” she said, ever so sweetly.

He’d been staring a bit too long. “How do you do? I’m Jack McMasters.” He shrugged off his mom’s claws to extend his hand.

“Ah, yah, Jack. Guten Tag,” she said, shaking his hand with a firm grip.

Those eyes! Jack locked on them. They were huge. They were purple.

Rabbit burst through the front door. Dropping a toy-filled knapsack and her coat, she became an airplane, arms outstretched, lips making the engine noise. The plane barely screeched to a halt before colliding with Ingrid. Rabbit demanded, “Who are you?”

“Manners,” Mrs. McMasters said again, trying her best to sound pleasant.

“Also das ist sicher Kirsten. Oder soll ich dich Rabbit nennen?” Ingrid said, delighted with Rabbit.

The fact that Rabbit didn’t understand a word Ingrid said made no difference. Rabbit grabbed Ingrid’s arm and tugged. “You wanna see my room?”

Ingrid’s big, purple eyes danced with delight as she allowed herself to be dragged away from the others and down the hall. Mrs. McMasters followed after them, deciding to let things take their course.

Queenie spun around to glare at Jack. “Did you know anything about this?”

“Not a thing,” Jack said, wondering why Queenie was getting so hostile.

“I don’t think she even speaks English,” Queenie whispered before storming off down the hall to supervise Rabbit’s tour of their bedroom.

By the time Jack arrived, Rabbit was conducting an English lesson.

Pointing, she said, “Closet.”

“Schrank,” said Ingrid.

“Toys,” she said, pointing to a pile of yesterday’s playthings.

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