A Game of Whitt

The one where a Deal is Struck

Tuesday, January 13, 20xx

Harold D. Blake Elementary School

The Playground

"Why don't we just go the police?"

Caleb asked her quietly as they sat against the large oak that grew in the corner of the school playground. He looked everywhere but at her, keeping an eye on their three other siblings as they played on the jungle gym.

Whitt sighed, the memory flashing through her mind.

"Everything alright officers? Ma'am" Martin asked two two cops standing on their ruddy porch.

The men shared a look, eyeing the polite man that stood on the porch before them. He was clean-shaven, wearing a suit with the sleeves rolled up. Flour coated his hands.

"Its Pizzia night officers, the kids and I do it every Wednesday."

One of the cops spoke up, "Sir, we received a noise complaint about this residence. Is everything alright? Are you and the children unharmed?"

Martin grimaced, catching the eye of the social-worker, "Well actually, no...Im afraid one of the children had a little accident," he looked into the house, beyond the screen door, "Whittney!"

Whitt shuffled to the door quickly, motioning to the other children to be quiet. Caleb nursed a bruised jaw, rapidly turning purple.

"Yeah Dad?" She said with a forced smile, meeting the eyes of all parties present.

"Can you show the officers your burn?" Martin sighed fondly and ruffled her hair, "Kids huh? I told you not to go near the oven, it was still hot."

Whitt offered her hand with a sheepish grin, eyes wide. Her hand still hurt furiously, the skin on the back of her palm reddened and shiny.

Both cops made sounds of empathy, "I remember burning myself at a campfire when I was her age" he said sympathetically, "You might want to run that under cold water for awhile longer, maybe ice it."

"I've heard toothpaste works," the other officer volunteered, shooting Whitt a small grin.

Martin nodded, "We'll try that. Thank you Officers.." he waved as the two men departed, getting into their cruiser with a final wave.

When their car had turned the corner, Martin turned his eyes on Whitt. "If you think for one second that's the last of it, you'd be mistaken." Turning back inside, he called, "Whichever one of you called the cops if gonna be in a world of pain!"

"It wont work-" she said, looking at faded scar on the back of her left hand.

"But-!"

"It wont work Caleb," she said seriously, meeting her foster brother's dark eyes, "the last time we were lucky. The Neighbors actually heard him."

"If we call and it doesn't work...?" She didn't even want to search the future for that outcome.

The two children were distracted by a sudden pained cry.

Looking over to the jungle gym, they both jumped up at the sight of Mabel on the sandy ground clutching her knee. The three children were surrounded by a group of five fifth grader boys. Whitt recognized their leader and she groaned.

Caleb growled lowly, "Why the hell is Peter Gordon bothering us again? HEY!" he called loudly as the two of them ran over to the conflict.

Though they were out matched, the five boys all taller than them all except for Caleb, it could not be said that the six foster siblings were pushovers.