Former detective Karrin Murphy surveyed the perimeter with narrowed eyes.
Everything seemed in order. Snack was over and the shades had been drawn, leaving only patches of grainy sunlight in the art corner. The easels were washed, pillows distributed, every door but the fire exit locked. Her charges, twelve in all and bundled two to a blankie, slept peacefully on the foam alphabet tiles. With their bedding pulled over their heads, they looked like little curled up pillbugs. Nap time, proceeding right on schedule.
As it should be. Children needed discipline, thrived on boundaries; their parents, too. There was a reason Loop & Loop Growing Garden opened its doors each morning at seven o'clock sharp and closed at noon on the dot.
Murphy had long found it was harder to train the adults than the kids. Bad habits ingrained by practice, she guessed, but that didn't mean their kids were a lost cause.
As if on cue, little Harry Dresden rolled over and stuck his nose in Johnnie Marcone's ear.
Murphy tried not to smile. Oh, Harry had yelped and hollered when he realized it was their turn to share a blanket, but in the end he'd snuggled up to Johnnie just the same.
Touchy and touch-starved, two sides of Harry in the same trick coin. He'd been at Loop & Loop three weeks, a rescue transfer from a state preschool. Didn't like being sneaked up on, didn't like people hanging out in his blind spots. No parents, no foster placement; he came and left every day in a white government van. When he drew, he rarely included himself. When he included himself, his shadow ran the length of the path, slender and serpentine.
He slept better these days. Better than he had on arrival, anyway.
As she scanned the playroom again, Johnnie's smile was suspiciously smug. She watched a moment. When he remained motionless, she gave up.
All quiet on the nap time front. With a sigh, Murphy holstered her baby monitor and retreated to the break room for a cup of well-deserved coffee.
**
Johnnie Marcone's eyes snapped open.
He lay still, listening hard for the telltale click of Ms. Murphy's coffeemaker turning on. Even without moving he could sense the room around him. To his left, Hendricks' feet stretched past the end of the blanket. To his right, Dresden clung with the force of barnacles on rock, face scrunched. Dresden had a cold, and his nose had been wet against Johnnie's cheek. It was...upsetting.
"Boss," Hendricks said, low enough to keep from disturbing his napping partner. Susan was probably awake anyway. She was nosy and hated to sleep before anyone else and wasn't afraid to cry to get her way.
Ms. Murphy never fell for it. She was smart for a grownup -- Johnnie narrowed his eyes -- maybe too smart.
"Now?" Hendricks whispered.
Johnnie slipped a hand from under the blanket, held up a finger. Wait.
Today the plan would finally be put in motion. It wouldn't do to get overexcited and spoil everything.
At the sound of coffee dripping, Johnnie extricated himself from Dresden's octopus arms and sat up. He used the corner of the blanket to wipe Dresden's nose, then tucked the blanket high up around his ears. Even in sleep, he looked disgruntled. Harry Dresden, Johnnie thought, just a little amused. Harry, Harry, Harry --
Hendricks coughed.
"Ah," he said, blushing. Hendricks was nice enough not to look at him. "That is--"
A chair scraped in the break room, and they both froze.
After a moment, Hendricks relaxed. "You're not taking the boys?"
Johnnie gazed at the others sleeping. "Too dangerous." If they were caught, Ms. Murphy would make them sit on the Bottom Stair of Discipline, maybe for an hour. He wouldn't -- couldn't -- risk his people for something so personal.
His eyes gleamed.
"Let's go," he said, "or we'll miss the express bus."
"Fire door's alarmed," Hendricks said grimly.
Johnnie pulled back the sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal a very sharp pair of what were definitely not safety scissors. He smirked. "Not a problem."
**
Susan Rodriguez sat up on high alert. What was that bang? Was it a ghost? It could have been a ghost. But maybe it was a vampire! She knew all about vampires; poltergeists and witches and fairies and evil godmothers too. But she knew more about ghosts, mostly because so many of them hung around her father's apartment. They lived in walls and couches and sometimes under the bed, and to make them go away, you needed to knock hard and make groaning noises until they got too scared and left.
Now Susan was a little scared.
Even so! Johnnie was gone, and so was his frowning friend. What if the ghost got them? What if it ate them and spit out their clothes and their clothes were covered in green goo and some of it got in Susan's hair?
She tied her sneakers tight and crept toward the back door Ms. Murphy had told them never to touch except in an emergency. But this was definitely an emergency, a ghost emergency.
Oddly enough, the door was already open, its wires sliced clean through.
**
"Sigrun, go," said Vadderung.
"Yes, sir."
She slipped out from under their blanket, clambered barefoot up the easel closest to the window and leapt through.
**
Jared woke up and sniffed their blanket; it smelled like playdo and juiceboxes, which was how he knew it had been Butters' the day before. He sniffed the air and he sniffed Ivy and he sniffed himself to know what Ivy was smelling and then he sniffed himself again, just to make sure.
Yep, he smelled like water from the pollywog pool. Stupid Nico Archleone, pushing him in like that. Joke was on him, though -- Jared could swim, and Ivy had noticed.
"Your butterfly is impressive," she said, eyes to the air as if reading an invisible tickertape. "Did you know it's the fastest of the swimming strokes?"
Then she met his gaze and smiled. It was almost enough to make him grateful to Nico or something.
Jared huddled back under the blanket. Ivy was awake, as he'd known she was.
"Johnnie and Hendricks are gone," he said. "Susie Q too." He didn't mention Gard. She could look after herself just fine, as she'd made clear on more than one occasion.
"They're on a quest for love," Ivy said. Under the covers, her eyes were big and clear and dark, like those shooting marbles with the clouds of galaxies inside. Jared had one until he'd shot it off a bumper car and the glass cracked down the middle, spilling out bits of gold and black iron.
Teasing, he said, "How do you know?"
She smiled. "I read it in Johnnie's diary."
**
Harry woke muttering from an UNPLEASANT dream about STUPID Marcone and his STUPID silver hair Harry didn't care if it RAN IN HIS FAMILY finger quotes it was still DUMB and since Marcone was STUPID that made him twice as DUMB as the next STUPIDEST thing in the room no matter what room he was in.
He paused.
Patted the foam tile beside him. Patted the other half -- okay, quarter -- of the blanket. Nothing.
He squeezed his eyes shut. "Johnnie?"
Nothing. His sleeping buddy had vamoosed and left him holding the blankie.
Ms. Murphy was going to KILL him.
Harry knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn't. It was an unspoken agreement between MEN, and you didn't even have to be friends for it to apply. But from where he was sitting, there was only one way to keep Ms. Murphy from calling his social worker and telling her how bad he was and making him leave forever:
Tattling.
**
"Ms. Murphy!"
She heard a quick patter of footsteps down the hall and slammed her romance novel shut. The cover was not fit for children's eyes. She suppressed a cringe as Harry peeked around the doorway slow, like he thought she might throw something at his head.
"Ms. Murphy," he said, clutching at the doorjamb.
Murphy tried to make herself look warm and understanding. It gave her a cheek cramp. "What's wrong, Harry?"
"I--" He averted his eyes and bit his lip. "Um."
"Yes?"
Harry shifted his weight from side to side, uncomfortable, hands locked behind his back, and --
Oh. "Did you wet the bed?" she said gently. "It's all right, we'll get you cleaned up right away."
He turned red as a boiling teakettle. "I didn't," he sputtered, "I haven't done that in a long time!" He held up fingers, checked to make sure it was the right number, then thrust them at her. "I'm four."
"Yes, I know," she said. "Even big boys have accidents, Harry."
He studied her a long time. Harry had strange eyes, dark and heavyset and creased in ways they shouldn't have been, not on a kid. Like he had spent years in a corner squeezing them shut with his hands over his ears; like they hadn't been sealed tight enough to keep it out. Murphy was old enough that she had seen what iron looked like when passed through fire, she knew how the ring of the hammer on glowing metal sounded. True -- sometimes when Harry stared at her, it felt like he was seeing straight to the bottom of everything.
After a while, he shrugged, wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"Okay," he said.
Murphy let out a breath. "Okay."
"But that's not what I," he said, faltering. "Um -- you're gonna be mad."
She rose from the chair, let her shadow stretch over him.
"How mad?"
**
Former detective Karrin Murphy stood in the playroom with her hands limp at her sides. If she were the kind of woman to gape, she would have been.
She counted again. And again.
A pulse throbbed in her temple. "When I get my hands on those twerps -- "
**
Three miles away in the lobby of the South Central Home for Orphaned and Needy Boys, Johnnie Marcone sneezed.
Fill: We're Just Blowing Through Nap Time, Aren't We (1/2)
**
Former detective Karrin Murphy surveyed the perimeter with narrowed eyes.
Everything seemed in order. Snack was over and the shades had been drawn, leaving only patches of grainy sunlight in the art corner. The easels were washed, pillows distributed, every door but the fire exit locked. Her charges, twelve in all and bundled two to a blankie, slept peacefully on the foam alphabet tiles. With their bedding pulled over their heads, they looked like little curled up pillbugs. Nap time, proceeding right on schedule.
As it should be. Children needed discipline, thrived on boundaries; their parents, too. There was a reason Loop & Loop Growing Garden opened its doors each morning at seven o'clock sharp and closed at noon on the dot.
Murphy had long found it was harder to train the adults than the kids. Bad habits ingrained by practice, she guessed, but that didn't mean their kids were a lost cause.
As if on cue, little Harry Dresden rolled over and stuck his nose in Johnnie Marcone's ear.
Murphy tried not to smile. Oh, Harry had yelped and hollered when he realized it was their turn to share a blanket, but in the end he'd snuggled up to Johnnie just the same.
Touchy and touch-starved, two sides of Harry in the same trick coin. He'd been at Loop & Loop three weeks, a rescue transfer from a state preschool. Didn't like being sneaked up on, didn't like people hanging out in his blind spots. No parents, no foster placement; he came and left every day in a white government van. When he drew, he rarely included himself. When he included himself, his shadow ran the length of the path, slender and serpentine.
He slept better these days. Better than he had on arrival, anyway.
As she scanned the playroom again, Johnnie's smile was suspiciously smug. She watched a moment. When he remained motionless, she gave up.
All quiet on the nap time front. With a sigh, Murphy holstered her baby monitor and retreated to the break room for a cup of well-deserved coffee.
**
Johnnie Marcone's eyes snapped open.
He lay still, listening hard for the telltale click of Ms. Murphy's coffeemaker turning on. Even without moving he could sense the room around him. To his left, Hendricks' feet stretched past the end of the blanket. To his right, Dresden clung with the force of barnacles on rock, face scrunched. Dresden had a cold, and his nose had been wet against Johnnie's cheek. It was...upsetting.
"Boss," Hendricks said, low enough to keep from disturbing his napping partner. Susan was probably awake anyway. She was nosy and hated to sleep before anyone else and wasn't afraid to cry to get her way.
Ms. Murphy never fell for it. She was smart for a grownup -- Johnnie narrowed his eyes -- maybe too smart.
"Now?" Hendricks whispered.
Johnnie slipped a hand from under the blanket, held up a finger. Wait.
Today the plan would finally be put in motion. It wouldn't do to get overexcited and spoil everything.
At the sound of coffee dripping, Johnnie extricated himself from Dresden's octopus arms and sat up. He used the corner of the blanket to wipe Dresden's nose, then tucked the blanket high up around his ears. Even in sleep, he looked disgruntled. Harry Dresden, Johnnie thought, just a little amused. Harry, Harry, Harry --
Hendricks coughed.
"Ah," he said, blushing. Hendricks was nice enough not to look at him. "That is--"
A chair scraped in the break room, and they both froze.
After a moment, Hendricks relaxed. "You're not taking the boys?"
Johnnie gazed at the others sleeping. "Too dangerous." If they were caught, Ms. Murphy would make them sit on the Bottom Stair of Discipline, maybe for an hour. He wouldn't -- couldn't -- risk his people for something so personal.
His eyes gleamed.
"Let's go," he said, "or we'll miss the express bus."
"Fire door's alarmed," Hendricks said grimly.
Johnnie pulled back the sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal a very sharp pair of what were definitely not safety scissors. He smirked. "Not a problem."
**
Susan Rodriguez sat up on high alert. What was that bang? Was it a ghost? It could have been a ghost. But maybe it was a vampire! She knew all about vampires; poltergeists and witches and fairies and evil godmothers too. But she knew more about ghosts, mostly because so many of them hung around her father's apartment. They lived in walls and couches and sometimes under the bed, and to make them go away, you needed to knock hard and make groaning noises until they got too scared and left.
Now Susan was a little scared.
Even so! Johnnie was gone, and so was his frowning friend. What if the ghost got them? What if it ate them and spit out their clothes and their clothes were covered in green goo and some of it got in Susan's hair?
She tied her sneakers tight and crept toward the back door Ms. Murphy had told them never to touch except in an emergency. But this was definitely an emergency, a ghost emergency.
Oddly enough, the door was already open, its wires sliced clean through.
**
"Sigrun, go," said Vadderung.
"Yes, sir."
She slipped out from under their blanket, clambered barefoot up the easel closest to the window and leapt through.
**
Jared woke up and sniffed their blanket; it smelled like playdo and juiceboxes, which was how he knew it had been Butters' the day before. He sniffed the air and he sniffed Ivy and he sniffed himself to know what Ivy was smelling and then he sniffed himself again, just to make sure.
Yep, he smelled like water from the pollywog pool. Stupid Nico Archleone, pushing him in like that. Joke was on him, though -- Jared could swim, and Ivy had noticed.
"Your butterfly is impressive," she said, eyes to the air as if reading an invisible tickertape. "Did you know it's the fastest of the swimming strokes?"
Then she met his gaze and smiled. It was almost enough to make him grateful to Nico or something.
Jared huddled back under the blanket. Ivy was awake, as he'd known she was.
"Johnnie and Hendricks are gone," he said. "Susie Q too." He didn't mention Gard. She could look after herself just fine, as she'd made clear on more than one occasion.
"They're on a quest for love," Ivy said. Under the covers, her eyes were big and clear and dark, like those shooting marbles with the clouds of galaxies inside. Jared had one until he'd shot it off a bumper car and the glass cracked down the middle, spilling out bits of gold and black iron.
Teasing, he said, "How do you know?"
She smiled. "I read it in Johnnie's diary."
**
Harry woke muttering from an UNPLEASANT dream about STUPID Marcone and his STUPID silver hair Harry didn't care if it RAN IN HIS FAMILY finger quotes it was still DUMB and since Marcone was STUPID that made him twice as DUMB as the next STUPIDEST thing in the room no matter what room he was in.
He paused.
Patted the foam tile beside him. Patted the other half -- okay, quarter -- of the blanket. Nothing.
He squeezed his eyes shut. "Johnnie?"
Nothing. His sleeping buddy had vamoosed and left him holding the blankie.
Ms. Murphy was going to KILL him.
Harry knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn't. It was an unspoken agreement between MEN, and you didn't even have to be friends for it to apply. But from where he was sitting, there was only one way to keep Ms. Murphy from calling his social worker and telling her how bad he was and making him leave forever:
Tattling.
**
"Ms. Murphy!"
She heard a quick patter of footsteps down the hall and slammed her romance novel shut. The cover was not fit for children's eyes. She suppressed a cringe as Harry peeked around the doorway slow, like he thought she might throw something at his head.
"Ms. Murphy," he said, clutching at the doorjamb.
Murphy tried to make herself look warm and understanding. It gave her a cheek cramp. "What's wrong, Harry?"
"I--" He averted his eyes and bit his lip. "Um."
"Yes?"
Harry shifted his weight from side to side, uncomfortable, hands locked behind his back, and --
Oh. "Did you wet the bed?" she said gently. "It's all right, we'll get you cleaned up right away."
He turned red as a boiling teakettle. "I didn't," he sputtered, "I haven't done that in a long time!" He held up fingers, checked to make sure it was the right number, then thrust them at her. "I'm four."
"Yes, I know," she said. "Even big boys have accidents, Harry."
He studied her a long time. Harry had strange eyes, dark and heavyset and creased in ways they shouldn't have been, not on a kid. Like he had spent years in a corner squeezing them shut with his hands over his ears; like they hadn't been sealed tight enough to keep it out. Murphy was old enough that she had seen what iron looked like when passed through fire, she knew how the ring of the hammer on glowing metal sounded. True -- sometimes when Harry stared at her, it felt like he was seeing straight to the bottom of everything.
After a while, he shrugged, wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"Okay," he said.
Murphy let out a breath. "Okay."
"But that's not what I," he said, faltering. "Um -- you're gonna be mad."
She rose from the chair, let her shadow stretch over him.
"How mad?"
**
Former detective Karrin Murphy stood in the playroom with her hands limp at her sides. If she were the kind of woman to gape, she would have been.
She counted again. And again.
A pulse throbbed in her temple. "When I get my hands on those twerps -- "
**
Three miles away in the lobby of the South Central Home for Orphaned and Needy Boys, Johnnie Marcone sneezed.
tbc, lol