Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
A thirty-gallon tank now resides against the back wall of the living room, hidden by the black tablecloth Dad temporarily draped over it.
“What’s happening?” Roxy demands, perpetually mistrustful. “What is that?”
“Why don’t you go and look?” Dad beams at her. Even Nia looks like she’s fighting a smile.
Wearing identical expressions of suspicion, the twins approach the covered tank.
“Pull the tablecloth off,” Dad encourages.
Surprisingly, Roxy hesitates, and so it’s Mo who ends up tugging on the cloth to reveal the turtle tank beneath.
Even more surprising, the girls stay deathly silent. Not a shriek to be heard.
“Girls?” Dad prompts.
They turn toward their parents, wide-eyed.
“Is … is it for us?” Monique whispers.
“He sure is.” Nia’s smile breaks free. It’s hard not to smile when the girls are trembling with quiet excitement.
“Come,” Dad says, urging them closer. “Come see him.”
I step forward too. I also want to see the little dude. I peer at the tank and search the artificial rocks, branches, and little log that serves as a basking spot. That’s where I find him. Dad’s right—he’s kind of cute. Small, maybe four inches max, with a mottled black shell and distinct stripes on his head.
“What’s his name?” Roxy whispers.
“He doesn’t have one yet,” Dad says.
Not entirely true. I think this one was LL Cool J. But I don’t blame Dad for wanting to rename him.
“I was thinking, though … maybe we can let your mama name him?” Dad tips his head as he awaits an answer.
Nia looks startled. “Me?”
He winks at his wife. “You. We all know Mama had her doubts about him, but she fell in love with him the moment she met him. So I think she should name him.”
“Name him, Mama,” Mo pleads.
Nia eyes the turtle for several long beats. Then she says, “Pierre.”
I swallow a laugh. “Excellent choice.”
“Pierre,” Roxy echoes solemnly, pressing her nose to the tank.
“I will love him forever,” Mo breathes. She’s got both hands on the glass and is staring at him in adoration.
“Can I hold him?” Roxy begs.
“No, me first!”
Dad shakes his head. “We’re going to go easy on the holding thing. At least for a little while. Pierre’s experiencing a real culture shock right now.”
“And,” Nia adds, donning a stern look, “we need to have a serious talk about how to take care of Pierre, and what your responsibilities will be. Oui?”
“Oui,” the twins promise.
“We’ll do that tomorrow. Tonight, we still have a birthday dinner to eat,” Dad says cheerfully. “And your sister has a present for you too …” he trails off enticingly.
My sisters spin toward me. “What is it?” Roxy demands.
I give her an innocent smile. “I don’t know …” I walk into the hall to grab the wrapped present I left on the credenza, then return to offer it to Roxanne. “Why don’t you two sit on the couch and open it?”
Unlike the awed silence Pierre received, my gift garners actual shrieks.
“It’s Kit!” Mo shouts, trying to grab the hardcover out of her sister’s hands. “Let me look!”
“We’re looking together!” Roxy flips to the first page and stares at the drawing. “This is a real storybook!”
“It is,” I confirm.
She scrunches up her forehead. “But it’s your story.”
“It is my story,” I agree. “And I wrote it down and put it in a book for you. And …” I join them on the couch, settling in between them. “Look.” I flip back to the intro page. “Can you read that for me?”
The twins are going into the first grade in September, but they’ve been at an advanced reading level for a while now. They squint at the page, eyes widening when they recognize their names.
“To Roxanne … and … Monique,” Roxy reads in stilted pauses. “The best … sisters … in the word. I mean, world.” She gazes at me, mouth gaping open. Then she screeches with joy. “I’m in the book!” she shouts. “Momo, you’re in the book too!”
“We’re in the book!” Mo jumps up and starts bouncing on the cushions.
“Monique,” Nia chides, instantly plucking her off the couch and setting her on the floor. “We don’t climb on the furniture, remember?”
Guilt pricks into me as I’m reminded of the last time she scaled the furniture. Under my watch, when a cabinet almost felt on her head and crushed my sister to death. At least Nia doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge about it.
“Can you read it to us?” Roxy asks, hugging my arm.
“Please?” Mo launches herself at me, trying to climb into my lap.
“Why don’t you girls do that now while your mama and I start fixing dinner?” Dad suggests. He’s wearing a soft smile as he sweeps his gaze over the three of us.
He and Nia disappear into the kitchen, and I settle in to read my sisters a story.
* * *
Over dinner, Dad pours a glass of champagne and hands it to me. When I raise an eyebrow, he raises one back. “You’re legal now,” he says. “And I’m going to pretend this is your first glass of champagne.”