“I want to play now.”
On bended knee, she studied Kameko’s flushed cheeks and overly bright eyes. “How many juice boxes have you torn through?” The sugar would explain her buzzy rebellion, and too much liquid, the toilet paper trailing out of her tights. “I’m guessing you’ve exceeded the daily limit.”
Chortling, Kameko scampered out of reach. One of the cheerleaders, cackling like a hyena, shouted encouragement.
Her compatriots joined in. Rae, tossing her dignity aside, dropped onto all fours. Ducking beneath the table, she latched on to an ankle. “Game over, bean sprout. We’re taking a stroll to the bathroom.” She dragged her quarry out. “You have unfinished business.”
“No, no, no!”
Rae slung the child over her shoulder. Tiny fists pounded her back, a series of teeny wasp’s stings. A high-pitched shriek followed. It vibrated through Rae’s molars like a jackhammer.
“Jeez, Kameko—enough! We can’t play in the store, and we are going to the bathroom.”
The flailing halted. “Someone, save me!”
The cheerleaders’ laughter swallowed the plea.
The wasp’s stings resumed. They were accompanied by the added bonus of thrashing legs. Kameko’s feet whipped past Rae’s nose. She clamped down on the child’s yellow sneakers. What the kid lacked in size, she made up for in fury.
An unhappy situation for a standin babysitter, especially a subpar one. Rae turned in a desperate circle. Where was Yuna?
She spotted her at the back of the shop. Palms raised, Yuna was fending off complaints from a disgruntled customer. The fashionably dressed blonde—loaded down with a basket of art supplies—wagged an impatient hand toward the line at the cash register. She got in Yuna’s face, her complaints rising in pitch. Yuna looked ready to weep.
Rae’s nostrils flared. Her tolerance for bullies was precisely zero.
She charged forward. At the sudden movement, Kameko dug pointy elbows into her neck. Her cherub’s face bobbing, she tried to assess what the fuss was about.
The blonde was better clued in. Sensing danger, she whirled around. Her startled gaze shot from Rae’s wriggling prey to the fluttering tail of toilet paper.
Rae skidded to a halt. “Is there a problem?”
The woman angled her neck. “What business is it of yours?”
“Don’t press my buttons, lady. You want service? Wait your turn like everyone else.”
Yuna’s mouth lifted in a watery smile. “Rae, it’s all right.” She was ready to weep.
“No, it’s not.” On her shoulder, Kameko stilled. No doubt Rae’s defense of her beleaguered mother pleased her. “Lady, get in line. I’m not letting you hassle my friend.”
“Well, I can’t wait. I have an appointment.”
“Which you’ll miss, unless you stop complaining.”
An impasse, and the woman tottered on her heels.
“Did you hear me?” Rae stepped closer—a vivid, animated presence. “Get moving!”
The woman’s jaw loosened. Snapping it shut, she rushed to the back of the line.
At her fast retreat, Kameko released a grateful breath. She patted Rae’s back.
Yuna gripped her skull. “Bestie, you’re a lifesaver.” She flashed a warning finger at her daughter. “Stop running around and behave for Auntie Rae.” She sprinted to the cash register.
In the bathroom, Kameko let Rae peel down her tights and remove the offending toilet paper. They both washed their hands.
“Auntie Rae, why was the lady shouting at Mommy?”
“Some people get impatient, bean sprout.”
“What’s ‘impatient’？”
“They don’t like taking turns. They always want to be first.”
“That’s silly.” Kameko bounced on her toes. Growing still, she glanced longingly at the bathroom stall. “Can I go again?”
“Don’t let me stop you.” Rae hesitated. “Do you need help?” At five, Kameko juggled babyish behavior with fierce independence.
“I’m okay.” The stall banged shut. Humming punctuated the short interlude. Then she said, “Quinn told Mommy I can stay with him and Mr. Connor.”
“And me,” Rae offered. More juice boxes were out of the question, and she searched for an activity sure to raise her ranking in the child’s affections. “Want to water the houseplants? We’ll feed them too.”
“You didn’t kill them?”
“Give me a break. You watered them last weekend. I promise, they’re thriving.”