Tyger Tyger (4 page)

"Walter wasn't a guy," Abby said. "He was so pathetic that his parents sent him on foreign exchange to get rid of him. But I've got the Turtles, right?"

Leo, Angel, Donnie, and Rafe were Abby's favorite cousins. They were really nice guys, too, unless you called them by their given names—Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, and Raphael. Their mom had been a big fan of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Actually"—Teagan shut down the computer—"I do need some relationship advice."

"Guy advice?" Abby looked shocked. "Really?"

"It's not for me. It's for a friend."

"Sure," Abby said. "A friend."

Teagan looked pointedly at Aiden. "It's kind of private."

"Like, the Thinking Place private?" Abby asked.

Teagan nodded.

"Let's go, then." Abby followed Teagan to her room.

Teagan shut the door behind them, then went to the window and slid it up. It was just a step down onto the gently sloping roof of the porch.

She'd first started coming out there when she was ten. She'd been doing it for weeks before her parents had caught her one evening. They'd crawled out the window and sat beside her, watching the people go by on the sidewalk and the insects spin around the streetlight.

"Almost as good as a tree house, isn't it?" Mr. Wylltson had said at last. "Maybe we should trade bedrooms. I could get used to this."

"It's Teagan's," her mom had said. "A girl needs a place of her own. Good night, dearie." She'd kissed Teagan's forehead, and they'd crawled back in the window. It had been Teagan's Thinking Place ever since.

Abby was the only other person Teagan had ever brought here. Aiden was strictly not allowed, though he liked to shout at Teagan from the sidewalk.

Teagan sat down in the square of light spilling from the window. Abby made her way gingerly across the roof.

"So talk already." She shivered as she sat down. "It's chilly out here."

Teagan hugged her knees. "I don't know if I should tell you. I don't think she's the kind of girl you could help."

"She's female, right?" Abby waved her hand. "Then I can help."

"Even if she's desperately in love with an ... older man?"

Abby frowned. "How much older are we talking, Tea? Five years?"

"About ... forty years, I think."

"Tea!" Abby shook her head. "I knew something like this was going to happen. It's because you don't date guys your own age."

"I told you it wasn't me. It's a friend."

"Who?" Abby demanded. "Give me a name."

"Cindy. She has a major crush on Dr. Max."

Abby's mouth dropped open.

"Gotcha," Teagan said.

"You dragged me onto the roof for that?"

"You dragged me into St. Drogo's," Teagan said, "with poop on my sweater,
and
made me walk six blocks home."

"I was saving your life." Abby stomped to the window and climbed through. Teagan caught it before Abby could shut it and lock her out.

"I can't believe you lied to me!" Abby grabbed a pillow off the bed and swung it at Teagan as she came inside.

"I didn't!" Teagan dodged.

Abby stopped swinging. "The chimp's seriously crushing on the bald guy?"

"Seriously."

"That's disgusting. He has
wrinkled lips!
"

"So, what's your advice, love doctor?"

"Bring her down to Smash Pad. We'll do a makeover. That girl could be hot!"

"Great." Teagan laughed. "I'll let her know. Now help me study."

"I'm getting my pajamas first," Abby said. "Studying always puts me to sleep."

***

They'd gone through the flash cards twice before Mrs. Wylltson came in.

"Will you pray with us, Abigail?"

"I don't do bedtime prayers anymore," Abby said.

"That's up to you, then." Mrs. Wylltson knelt by the side of the bed.

Teagan knelt beside her mother, took her hand, and breathed in the scent of paint, linseed oil, and turpentine. Her mom always smelled like creation.

"
I do not ask for a path with no trouble or regret,
" Mrs. Wylltson began. Teagan spoke the words with her. "
I ask instead for a friend who'll walk with me down any path.

"
I do not ask never to feel pain. I ask instead for courage, even when hope can scarce shine through.

"
And one more thing I ask: That in every hour of joy or pain, I feel the Creator close by my side. This is my truest prayer for myself and for all I love, now and forever. Amen.
"

"Amen," Abby echoed automatically. Mrs. Wylltson got up and turned the window latch before she drew the curtains.

"Good night, girls," she said as she closed the door.

"Why don't you pray like normal people?" Abby asked. "'No pain, God. Lots of money. Thanks.'"

"Because we're Irish." Teagan snapped the rubber band back around her flash cards. "Mom says things never go well for the Irish for very long. She says we've got to be realistic."

"And why'd she lock the window? Is she worried your hairy cousin will come sneaking down the back alley and climb up the drainpipe?"

"Hairy cousin?"

"Ms. Skinner said Finn was a fur ball, right? Maybe he should date Cindy."

"Feral." Teagan picked up the pillows Abby had thrown and tossed them back on the bed. "She said he was feral. Abby, you need to pay more attention to the words coming out of people's mouths."

"I pay attention. Is this my pillow?"

"What does it matter?"

"You drool like a mad dog." Abby ran her fingers over the pillowcase. "I hate crusty pillows. You're going to have a totally strange guy living in your house, Tea. It's going to be weird, even if you are blood related."

"We're not," Teagan said.

"Not what?"

"Blood related. Mamieo took Mom in when she was twelve or thirteen," Teagan said. "She brought her here from Ireland as part of their family."

"Was your mom an orphan or a runaway, or what?"

"I don't know," Teagan said. "I don't think Mom remembers anything before she was with the Mac Cumhaills."

"She can't remember being a little kid? Is something wrong with her brain? Sorry, Tea," Abby said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. My mouth just says stuff sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," Teagan said. "I know."

WE'LL be back in a couple of hours." Mrs. Wylltson looked from Teagan to Abby. "You'll make the spaghetti?"

"It's under control, Mom."

Abby had insisted on coming home with her after school again, even though Friday was one of her days to have the bedroom at the Gaglianos'. They'd helped Mrs. Wylltson finish preparing the guest room, then taken over in the kitchen.

"Mom?" Teagan pointed at her mother's feet—one pink running shoe, one blue. At least they were the same brand this time.

"Not again," Mrs. Wylltson said. "I should throw away the older pair. Well, I'm not taking time to find shoes now. Who looks at feet?"

"Put on some music for your brother," Mr. Wylltson said as they went out the door. "It will keep him out of trouble."

"You think Ms. Skinner will notice the shoes?" Teagan asked.

"She'll notice," Abby said.

Teagan sighed. "What do you want to listen to, Aiden?"

"Put on
Disney's Greatest Hits,
" Abby said. "That's good for little kids."

"I'm not a princess." Aiden looked disgusted. "I want 'Bad, Bad Leroy Brown.'"

"Jim Croce it is." Teagan put it on and left Aiden twisting the lyrics around the story he was making up about his Lego castle.

Abby was watching the "Ko-Ko-Bop" video again, with the sound off so it wouldn't corrupt Aiden's mind.

"Do you think this makes my butt look fat?" Abby asked.

"Yes." Teagan pulled up a chair. "Do a search for Finn." It took about three minutes to figure out that "Finn Mac Cumhaill" didn't have a Facebook account, wasn't on MySpace, and didn't have a blog ... at least, not any seventeen-year-old Finn Mac Cumhaill from Chicago.

"He's been living in a cave." Abby took the keyboard back, typed "Irish Travelers" in the Google box, and got 12,000 hits.

"Irish Travelers raided on fraud, other charges..."

"Cons, frauds, lies..."

She clicked on a video link titled "Irish Travelers Scam Chicago Couple."

"Police are seeking Angelica Roche, an Irish Traveler who allegedly scammed an elderly couple out of their life's savings," a grim-faced reporter said. "Mr. and Mrs. Gavin took Angelica Roche into their home ... and into their confidence." He turned to the sad-looking couple. "Can you tell us what happened next?"

"She said she was a Seer." Mr. Gavin stopped to cough. Mrs. Gavin handed him a handkerchief.

"We'd been having a hard time," the old lady said. "Roof leaking, prescription costs going up. Angelica said it was because the money sitting in our bank account was dirty. Said the money had touched drugs and vile things, and evil clung to it. She said if it was cleansed, then everything would be fine."

"We took it all out." Mr. Gavin had recovered from his coughing fit. "She held a'séance to cleanse it."

"I'd never seen one like that before," Mrs. Gavin said. "Never one with fresh vegetables and"—she blinked behind her thick glasses—"live lizards."

"And candles," Mr. Gavin added.

"They all have candles, dear." Mrs. Gavin patted his hand. "We wrapped the money up in a clean white cloth and put it in the center of the table, just like she said."

"I never took my eyes off that money." Mr. Gavin's lips were trembling. "When we were done, she said to put it under our bed for seven days, take it out on the Sabbath, and it would be clean. We did."

"But there was nothing in the cloth but cut-up newspaper," Mrs. Gavin said bitterly. "That's when we called the police."

"Mom would never do anything like that," Teagan said.

"Maybe that's why she doesn't have much to do with the Travelers." Abby stretched. "I got family, too, you know. It's called the Mob. I'm not proud of it, but what are you gonna do? Your family is what it is."

They gave up on the computer to start the spaghetti at four. Aiden came in to help, so Teagan put him up on a stool and let him watch her stir the burger while it browned. Abby chopped the vegetables for a salad. They finished the meat sauce and the noodles and set them aside.

"When are they getting here?" Aiden asked. "It's already been forever."

"Let's play Chutes and Ladders," Teagan suggested.

"No," Aiden said. "I'm going to work on my castle some more. I want to show it to Finn."

 

"I thought they said a couple of hours." Abby paced the floor while Teagan lay on her stomach in the alcove, helping Aiden. "It's, like, seven!"

"We'd better feed Aiden," Teagan decided.

"Good," Abby said. "I'll dish it up. I'm going to go nuts if I don't do something."

"Come on, Aiden." Teagan stood up.

"Just one more minute," Aiden said. "Just one more." She was about to drag him to the kitchen by his foot when she saw them coming up the walk.

Finn Mac Cumhaill was walking beside Ms. Skinner, with Tea-gan's parents following a few steps behind. Finn was taller than the social worker, five-ten at least. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and jeans that hung on his wiry frame like they'd been bought for someone else. His blond hair was cropped short. An old green satchel hung from his left shoulder. His right arm was in a cast from just above the elbow to the fingertips and held close to his chest by a sling. Ms. Skinner marched beside him with the grimness of a prison guard as they passed the window and turned up the steps.

"Aiden, they're here," Teagan said. He scrambled to his feet, but Teagan caught his shoulder as the door opened. They were out of the line of sight in the alcove, and suddenly she wanted to stay that way, just for a minute.

Mrs. Wylltson came in first. Finn stepped inside, and his eyes went first to the kitchen door, then the stairs. Teagan had seen a wolf do the same thing—check a new habitat for exits as soon as it entered. But the wolf had been frightened, and Finn was not. It took her five seconds to figure out that Ms. Skinner was wrong. He wasn't feral. You had to be tame before you could turn feral. Finn Mac Cumhaill did not look like he had ever been tame.

Ms. Skinner came in the door behind him.

"I don't usually escort a ward all the way to the house," she was saying, "but in this case I thought it might be best. Just to be sure, once you'd had a chance to see him—"

"We're not changing our minds," Mr. Wylltson said.

"At least take my card, John."

"Thank you." Mr. Wylltson took it gingerly. "I'll be sure to file it."

The social worker turned to Finn. "You cause any kind of trouble, I'm just a phone call away." She lowered her voice. "We can come pick you up at any time. Pick you up and take you somewhere more appropriate."

"That would be cheaper than a taxi, then," Finn said lazily, "wouldn't it?" His accent was stronger than Teagan's mother's, even though he'd been born in the States.

"I'll leave you to get to know each other," Ms. Skinner said. "I'll be waiting for the call, Mr. Mac Cumhaill."

"Goodbye," Mr. Wylltson said as he shut the door behind her.

"Good
Lord,
that woman grates." Aileen Wylltson snatched the card from her husband's hand, ripped it in half, and threw it in the recycling bin by the door. "There," she said. "It's filed. Welcome home, Finn."

Teagan let go of Aiden, but Abby came in from the kitchen before he could move.

"Tea," Abby said, "where did you put—" She saw Finn and sucked in her breath.

"What the crap are you looking at?" Finn asked.

"Finn," Mr. Wylltson said, "we don't use vulgarity in front of ladies."

"Didn't consider it vulgar, John." Finn flushed. "I'll remember it."

"I was just about to make introductions, Abby," Mrs. Wylltson said. "Finn Mac Cumhaill"—she touched his shoulder lightly to turn him—"I would like you to meet your cousins Teagan and Aiden Wylltson."

Teagan smiled.

Finn swayed, and Mrs. Wylltson grabbed his good arm to keep him from falling. His face had gone paper white.