The next two weeks were really boring if you compare it to the week before, with the disaster on Half Dome, the finding out that bad guys are after us, the “sort of” plane crash, and the Dairy Queen meltdown. Pretty much, I got to hang out with my new friends and explore the huge, but somehow secret, Stevens resort. I wasn’t allowed to go outside the gates, but who would want to? Inside was everything I needed, except my mom and brother. Well, I’m not sure I really needed my brother, but I was beginning to miss having him around. Some of the goofy stuff Sunday says reminds me of Brady, except Sunday always says things with this huge grin that makes it seem funny, unlike Brady, who smirks and just makes me mad.
“Mom and Brady will be here tomorrow,” Dad said that night at our outdoor dinner “picnic.” Fawn had packed ham sandwiches, potato salad, and watermelon in a basket and we all ate on a red-checked blanket by the lake.
“They’re flying out on the backup jet,” Flip said. Only it sounded more like “Her fyin ot duh hack uh jack,” since he said it as he was shoving his face into a watermelon wedge. He chewed, swallowed, and wiped the mushy pink pulp on his sweatshirt sleeve. “They’ll be here by noon, and we’ll send Chuck to pick them up.”
“Can I go?” I asked.
“No,” everyone said.
“Ugh!” I slammed my fists on the blanket.
Dad looked surprised. “Riley! Do you really want to get back in Chuck’s wild ride?”
He had a point.
Fawn pulled a chocolate cake out of a plastic carrier.
Grace and Hope squealed. “Mmmm! Cake!” Then they got up and ran in their famous circles, cheering, “Cake, cake, cake!” Their voices got higher and higher until they sounded like cars screeching to a halt over and over. I thought I was going to have to go tackle them and shove cake in their mouths to quiet them. Instead, their mother, Ajia, stood and said with a firm voice, “Cake comes to little girls who sit with good manners and do not squeal.” Then she sat down and began cutting cake and serving it to us. She didn’t offer any to them, since even though they had stopped squealing, they were still running. They kept looking over at us with frowns on their faces, like they were expecting us to bring them some cake.
“They will not get cake tonight,” Faith said.
“Mother means what she says,” Sunday added, and then he shoved a big piece of cake in his mouth.
Ajia sounds just like my mother.
“Have you ever been a police officer?” I asked Ajia.
Sunday laughed hard. “No, but she can run fast to catch the criminals!”
Ajia nodded. “It is true that I do not know about law enforcement. But I do train to run.”
I noticed she was wearing a pair of running shoes. “So, you’re an athlete?”
“Mother trained for the Olympics,” Sunday said, “but could not run in the qualifying race because I got sick.”
Ajia put her arm around Sunday. “It is fine, Son. You are more important to me than medals.”
“Wait,” I said, holding my hand up. “Are you talking about the real OLYMPICS? The every four years Olympics?”
“Yes,” Ajia said. “I am a marathon runner.”
“Her name — Ajia — means ‘swift,’” Sunday said. “And she is!” His smile was full of chocolate cake.
Fawn put down her cake plate. “I need to stop eating this and go on a training run with you.”
Ajia took a big bite of her cake and shook her head. “I am on hiatus, until God heals Sunday of his leukemia. All of my energy is for prayer and treatments right now. Running will come later, or it will not. I am at peace. God knows best.”