Chief Henderson flicked me an irritated glance, then aimed an even more irritated one at Hopkins, who instantly stormed back to me.
“I just told you not to bother the chief while he works the accident scene. You said you were catching my drift.”
“And I told you this was no accident,” I replied coolly. “Someone hit this man with a car and left the scene.”
His lips pursed in a way that I could only take to be frustrated acquiescence.
“What’d I miss?”
Ernie sidled up beside me, out of breath and red-cheeked, jostling me with his shoulder. His eyes landed on Coach Farley and his entire face fell with disappointment. “Oh, jeez. I’m going to have to change the whole article, aren’t I?”
Chapter 5
Daisy opened her door mid-scream.
“I told you all to quiet that game down right now or I’ll—oh, hey, Hollis.” She stepped aside, tripping over a toy truck and nearly falling. She snatched it up and waved it in the air. “Lucas, guess what you no longer own? I’ve told you to pick it up a thousand times and now it is mine, young man. I love trucks. This is the best truck I’ve ever owned. I can’t believe you just gave me such an awesome truck. Come on in, Hollis. I’ve got lemon bars. You won’t believe the curd in these. Straight from heaven, I tell you. I’m late, aren’t I?” She checked the time on the grandfather clock in the entryway, then sighed. “Late. I’m sorry.”
“I thought maybe you’d chickened out,” I said.
“Are you kidding me? I have been mentally preparing myself for this all day. I am ready.”
“Good, because I was prepared to drag you over by your hair if I had to.”
Two boys whizzed through the entryway, knocking into me, one on each side, then disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the sliding glass door rumble open and shut again. The music of an abandoned video game blared from the living room.
“You might have to drag me back in. Let’s escape while we can.”
“Where’s Mike?” I asked.
She disappeared into the sweet-smelling kitchen, baby Willow toddling after her. There was the sound of drawers opening and closing. I rounded the corner to find Daisy covering a pan of lemon bars with plastic wrap one-handed, her other hand supporting Willow on her hip. The plastic wrap stretched flat and perfect. This was one reason I was pretty sure I would never be a mother—I couldn’t get plastic wrap to look like that with two hands, a blueprint, and ninety spare minutes of silent prayer.
“Out back with the guys,” she said. “They have boxes and the kids wanted forts. It turned into a whole thing out there.”
Our eyes met briefly. I knew what that meant—something epic was happening outside. I shuffled to the sliding glass door and peered out. The backyard was a field of cardboard boxes, stacked and piled into forts. Daisy’s husband Mike—the world’s biggest child at heart— was inside one of them, aiming the barrel of a foam dart gun through a crack. Five-year-old Brant sat on the grass behind him, methodically emptying a bag of marshmallows into his mouth, his hair so sticky it shot up in spikes around his forehead like a cartoon character’s. Seven-year-old Jake stood next to his dad, peering through a tiny crack he’d made lower in the box tower. Across the lawn, two similar forts hid Mike’s buddies: Ed and Mudd in one, Spencer in the other. Lucas, who had been just moments before tearing past me was now standing on a box next to Spencer.
“Dart war?” I asked.
She sighed. “They tried to do it in here. I made them take it outside. The kids are going nuts.”
As if to punctuate her mom’s statement, Willow ripped the pacifier out of her mouth and tossed it. It bounced off the plastic wrap—the woman had the pan wrapped so tightly things bounced off of it, and I felt the need to bow to her in appreciation—and clattered to the floor, rolling under the refrigerator. Willow watched it, then threw her head back and let out a wail. Without missing a beat, Daisy opened a drawer, pulled out another pacifier, and popped it into Willow’s open, wailing mouth.
A master, I tell you.
Daisy came around the counter, bumped me out of the way with her free hip, opened the door, and yelled. “Mike! I’m going! Come get your daughter!”
“Truce!” Mike popped up, flashing a “T” with his hands. Instantly, he was pelted with a dozen darts. Lucas giggled maniacally from inside his fort. “Truce! Truce! I said truce, you guys!” Mike called, covering his head and running up the deck stairs. “Fine!” He fired his gun randomly as he ran, yelling unintelligible sounds like he was in an action movie. “Hey, babe,” he said breathlessly when he reached us. “Hey, Hollis. Have fun.”
He kissed Daisy on the temple, then grabbed the baby and held her over his head. “Hostage!” he hollered, rushing back toward his fort. “Hold your fire!”
Mudd popped up out of his fort, took aim, and rapid-fire nailed Mike in the gut with a rain of foam darts, expertly missing the baby. Willow giggled and kicked her legs. “Release the innocents!” Mudd yelled.
“Does Mike have his face painted?” I asked, squinting at him.
Daisy rolled her eyes. “I don’t even ask anymore. What he won’t do for those kids. Should we go? Our listeners are waiting.”
“Our listeners don’t even know we exist yet.”
She held up one finger as she grabbed her lemon bars and hustled to the front door. “Not true. I’ve told my mom, which means everyone who ever even thought about going to The Stray Hair knows by now. We’ve got some high expectations to live up to.” She brushed past me. “No pressure, of course.”
I felt my stomach tighten with nervous anticipation. “Of course.”
“Testing, one, two,” I said into one of the new microphones
