14. Some Heroes Wear Rainbow Capes [Part 1]

The kids were up to something. The little troublemakers thought they were subtle, with their faces staring up at me in pure innocence and their hands tucked behind their backs. That was their first mistake. Only Camille could be described as somewhat innocent, and she was off at a friend's birthday party. Their second mistake was asking me if they could please go play out in the yard together. They rarely said please, and Manon usually claimed she wanted nothing to do with her stupid sister.

Yet, somehow, they thought they had fooled me.

Which was fine by me, and why I was currently sprawled out on the couch in the living room, scrolling the internet in search of an affordable new pair of sturdy boots. After all, I'd learned many of my life lessons by making mistakes, so who was I to deprive them of an opportunity to do the same?

"Jessie."

I yelped and sat up, dropping my phone. It clattered to the floor, right at the feet of Elizabeth, who was wearing sneakers, again. "Oh, shit," I said, my heart still up in my throat. "Don't creep up on me like that when you're not wearing heels, please. It's scary."

She rolled her eyes at me. Sometimes, it was like I had four responsibilities, three kids and one teenager. Even my sister had never rolled her eyes at Ma that often. "Maybe it's you who needs to be more alert," she said. "Do you even know where the girls are?"

I picked up my phone, inspecting it to check if the cracks in the screen had gotten any worse. "Yeah, they're out in the yard, getting into all kinds of mischief."

"Good to know you're doing your job, then." It was riddled with sarcasm, though it didn't really worry me. By now, I'd discovered how to find out if she was actually mad or just acting. She might be glaring at me right now, but as long as the sparks didn't light in her eyes, I was safe.

"I just figured it'd be good for them to make mistakes now, instead of in twenty years when the consequences will be much worse." Before she could go against me, I continued: "Did you need me for something? I'm not watching TikToks, so if that's what you're here for, you're out of luck."

That rewarded me with an annoyed sigh. Even though she still pretended we weren't friends, we absolutely were— the trust test had worked better than I'd expected. Most nights after the kids had been put to bed, we'd end up in the living room together, me swiping through TikTok, her pretending to be hooked on the news and boring talk shows, while in fact, she'd be craning her neck to see what I was doing. I'd told her she could just download the app herself, to which she'd said: "It's for children. I'm keeping up with current events."

Since then, it'd become my daily goal to find TikToks that made her laugh out loud and betray herself. I was getting really good at it too. Sometimes, though, one of them would hit too close to home, like the one that said, "ladies, facts: if he cheated on you, he'll most likely do it again". In those cases, she'd gulp back the remainder of her wine so quickly she'd be done before the video could replay, announcing she was tired and going to bed and that I, as a semi-responsible adult, should do the same.

"How many times do I have to tell you I have no interest in that app?" she said, throwing her hair over her shoulder. To the trained eye, it was clear she was blushing just a little. For some reason, she felt strongly about this, and it would've made me feel like an incompetent toddler if I didn't know she was lying to herself. "I'm here to give you something."

She held out her hands, looking down at me with a smolderingly intense gaze, one that could mean danger if I wasn't careful.

"A book...?" I took it from her, expecting it to be a kid's novel or a parenting guide, and turned it around.

Codename Villanelle by Luke Jennings.

"Like the TV show?" I scratched the side of my head. Killing Eve was currently my favorite show in the universe, but the subject matter was far from appropriate for any of the kids. Though I suspected Ari would love it if she'd be allowed to watch it, what with all the murdering and blood.

"Yes, the series is based on these books."

That still didn't explain what the purpose of all this was. I opened it to the first page, immediately spotting many words that were far too long and complicated for me to ever get. "Elizabeth," I said, "I'm not sure what you want me to do here. I can't read this. I mean, thank you, I appreciate the gift but—"

"You can't read it right now, is what you mean," she interrupted. The look on her face was the same as when the kids complained to her about their homework, and that was not a good thing. "Which is why I'm getting you a tutor. Once a week, during school hours."

I gaped at her. Where the hell was this coming from? I'd never expressed any wish to fix my near illiteracy, as far as I could remember. Because there was no fixing it. If I'd been able to, surely I would've mastered the skill at this age? I was twenty-five, people. I'd made peace with my incompetence a long time ago. "What?"

"I've hired a reading tutor to help you out."

She said it like it was nothing, her hand on her hip, waiting for me to reply.

I didn't know what to say. I hadn't asked for this. What did she think, that I was gonna get on my knees and thank her endlessly for taking pity on me? I was who I was. I couldn't read, I walked weirdly, and I wasn't meant for a real career. That was fine. It was what it was. Just because she was so intelligent and accomplished, didn't mean I could be the same. Or even wanted to be. It wasn't in the cards for me, and I didn't need people taking pity on me—especially not rich white abled cishet people like her.

"Well, thanks, but I don't want it," I said, holding the book out so she could take it back. "I'm fine."

It seems she hadn't expected that. She narrowed her eyes, scanning me from head to toe, like my body language was as hard to decipher as that book would be for me, but she didn't take it from me. "You're smart enough," she said, her voice sharp. "Either you have dyslexia, which means you can learn certain techniques to cope, or you need some extra attention."

"What? Are you getting tired of me having to pause TikToks all the time so I can read them? Because like I said, you can just—"

"I do not want TikTok!" she interrupted, her hands raised. She caught herself, touching her temple, shaking her head a little. "Jessie, I'm positive you can improve your reading skills. I'd do this for any of my employees. I'd want them to have the opportunity to grow. Or were you planning on being a nanny the rest of your life?"

I felt my cheeks flush. My whole body was tense to the point my muscles hurt, fingers curling into fists even though I hadn't ordered them to do that. I didn't know if it was anger or humiliation, but I hadn't had flashbacks to my youth in a while, and I didn't appreciate them bubbling up all of a sudden. "As a matter of fact, yes. I love being a nanny, and I could do this until the day I die."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Camille will be sixty by then."

Without planning to, I jumped up, dropping my phone for a second time. It fell on my big toe, which was kind of painful, though I had other things to worry about, like fighting the hot tears stinging behind my eyes. "Great. That means one of them will probably have grandkids I can take care of."

She dumped the book on the coffee table. Sighing deeply, she massaged her temples, as if she was the one being offended in this conversation. "If you're going to look after Camille until she's sixty, you'll need to be able to read her something more complicated than Winnie the Pooh, don't you think?"

"I said 'no'! I don't need help, I don't want help, I can look after my fucking self!"

Suddenly, she ducked, and for a second, I thought she was going to attack me— then, she thrust my phone into my hand, almost knocking me back into the couch with the force of it. "Just accept the damn gesture, Jessie!"

I wanted to scream 'no' again — it was already halfway up my throat — when she took a step in my direction, and I did stumble backward into the couch. Elizabeth wasn't a tall woman without her heels, though standing before me like this, with her stern glare and raised finger, she was nothing short of intimidating. "No, you'll listen to me," she said, "you helped me, now I get to help you." I opened my mouth, but she shook her head in warning. "If you don't take the lessons, I will fire you. For real this time. I have no use for a nanny who doesn't want to learn."

Before I could react, there was a cough behind us. Quickly, I wiped my eyes dry with my t-shirt leave, mentally scolding myself for crying when all I wanted to do was yell. She didn't get to do this, suggesting I should be fixed — that I could be fixed — when everyone around me had always known attempts like that only ended in disappointment.

Miss Schneider had joined us in the doorway, donning rubber gloves and trying very hard not to look at me. "Sorry, ladies," she said. "Mrs. Sosa is chasing Manon and Ari around the neighborhood, and boy, is she screaming like a banshee. I thought you'd want to know."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, touching her forehead with her hand. "Mischief, you said?"

I gulped.