Through Blessed Eyes

Chapter 6-- Scout

SCOUT

“Hello?” Mycroft is the first to answer the phone. I’m not surprised. It isn’t like my other brothers care enough to answer, and dad is probably in his study writing.

“Hey, it’s me,” I say, pacing nervously around my bedroom. The door is closed, and nobody else is in here. I don’t want Tess and Evelyn to hear, so I hastily explained that I needed to call home and left it at that.

“Hey, Scout. How’s the weather in your world?” Mikey asks.

“It’s… kind of wet,” I say, trying not to think of my involuntary dive into the ocean, “Can I talk to dad?”

“I think he’s writing, but he’s wanted to hear from you. Lemme see what I can do,” he says.

“Is that why you guys haven’t answered my texts or calls?” I ask bitterly.

“Calm down, Thin Mint,” he says, using my childhood nickname. You know, like a GIRL SCOUT cookie? “We’ve been busy.”

“Too busy for your little sister who could be calling to tell you she was brutally assaulted and wants to come home?” I retort.

“Wait, what?” Mikey is all of a sudden sounding outraged and like he is two seconds from hopping on a transcontinental flight with my other brothers to beat the ever loving tar out of whoever harmed me.

“Keyword: COULD. I’m perfectly fine, Incredible Hulk,” I say with a roll of my eyes. Brothers were so fun to tease. “Just let me talk to dad.”

“You little pain in the--”

“I know, I know. Dad, please?”

“Here he is,” Mikey says, and I hear the shuffle of the phone being transferred from my brother to my father. I cling the phone close to my ear, trying to hear as much as I can. I want desperately to hear Johnny and Ish in the background, fighting, or Charlie come in to say that he claimed my bedroom. But I don’t hear anything.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” Dad says. I smile. “I’m so sorry we haven’t been able to get back in touch with you. We tried a few days ago after school ended for you, but you never answered. Ish sent you a few emails, I think.”

“Sorry,” I blink, “I haven’t had time to check. Uh, what day did you call?”

“Monday.”

“…Right. We, uh, had homework.”

“I understand. So what did you want to talk about?” he continues cheerily. I feel bad about lying, but it isn’t like I’ve never done it before. I never told a soul about the time that Charlie accidentally deleted all of dad’s manuscript while he was on a business trip, and we are going to our graves with the story that the babysitter did it.

“Do you know if we have any ancestors that were from Scotland?” I ask.

“Um, I don’t know. I think my great grandparents were from Ireland and Germany. Does that help any?”

“What about…” I pause, then take a breath. “What about mom?”

“Your mother’s family? I think her great-to-the-5th-power grandparents were some sort of Scottish horse thieves. You know, until it was, ah, suggested that they relocate to Ellis Island.”

“Really?” I ask, “Are any of her relatives still over here?”

“No, I don’t think so. At least, not any close ones. Why?”

“Oh, uh,” I think quickly, “Evelyn mentioned that some of her family was from here, and I was just wondering about us. It’s no big deal.”