Page 63 of The Right Sign
The bell rings at that moment, signaling the end of a school day. Kids come rushing out, piling into flashy black SUVs that take off with zero respect for the speed limit.
Interesting. I recognize a few of the faces in the driver’s seat. The city’s most influential and prominent families send their kids here. Now, the security guards and extravagant security check at the gate make sense.
“Why isn’t she coming out?” I assess the children running through the doors, eager to get home.
“Perhaps she’s being given an after-school orientation?” Mosely mumbles.
“You think? Ah. There she is.”
I perk up when I see my niece bopping along. Her tiny shoulders are slumped and she kicks forlornly at a rock in her path.
“Talia!” I call her name and wave.
Her head whips up. At once, the solemn expression shifts into a sunshine smile. She grips her backpack straps and crosses the distance between us at a brisk run. Blonde hair streams behind her, reminding me of a field of wheat dancing in the breeze.
I drop to one knee and accept the arms she flings around me. “Uncle Dare!”
“Hey, kiddo.”
She leans back, blue eyes sparkling brighter than fireworks in the sky. “What are you doing here? Mom said dad would pick me up while she’s in rehab.”
I cringe at the way she casually refers to her mother’s addiction. Sometimes, I wish she wasn’t so aware of the world.
“Well,” I tuck her hair behind her ear, “your dad is a little busy. But the good news is, you’ll be staying with me until your mom is better.”
“Cool!” She beams.
“You remember Mosely?” I gesture to my assistant.
She barely spares him a glance. “Uncle Dare, can I have ice cream?”
“That depends.” I take her bag from her and offer my hand.
She slips her little fingers in mine. “On what?”
I shove my watch at her. “Explain why this kept going off all day.”
“Oh…” Her smile becomes a shadow on her face.
“I checked.” I open the door for her and watch as she scrambles into the backseat. She’s so small that not even the running board is enough help. Hefting her in the rest of the way, I add, “There’s nothing wrong with the battery or the internal mechanics.” The technician at the mall took one look at it and told me I had a perfectly functioning princess watch. “He said the flashes were from a receiver.”
She tilts her pretty little face up.
I snap her seatbelt in place and pause. “Like a walkie-talkie.”
“Oh.”
“Were you trying to call me, Talia?”
She chews on her bottom lip.
I see her struggling and press, “Did something happen at school today?”
“No.”
“Talia.” My voice has a hint of a warning.
“I told you. Everything’s fine.”