Page 14 of Kit

“Don’t we all.”

Just then, another little I didn’t recognize scampered by, plucked up my stuffed dog and ran away.

“Hey!”

The pajama-clad boy ran to a corner, hugged the dog hard and stuck his thumb in his mouth, daring me to approach.

I walked up to him, hands on my hips. “Give that back to me.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head.

“It’s mine,” I insisted.

He turned away from me, facing the wall.

I leaned forward, scowling. “You better give it back!”

No response.

“I mean it. Give it back!” My hands formed into fists.

“Nooo.” He made a little screech. “Don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t if you give me my dog back.”

“My doggie now!”

“It’s not yours!” I yelled.

“Help! Help!” He let out a baby wail. Loud.

All the daddies on the couches turned our way. One jumped up and ran toward us. “Nicky, baby, is this boy giving you trouble?”

“He’s trying to hurt me.”

I stood tall. “He stole my stuffy.”

“Nicky, did you take his toy?”

“Stuffies in this room are for everybody.” Nicky pouted.

“It wasn’t?—”

“Kit?” The daddy interrupted me. “Is that you? Aren’t you done beating up boys in the playroom? Haven’t you learned your lesson? I could report you. After what you did before, you’d be banned forever.”

“But I?—”

“You’d better leave now. Shame on you for intimidating Nicky. He’s a very sensitive boy. And unlike you, he doesn’t get into fights.”

“I didn’t?—”

“Don’t lie. You cornered him and, ah, look, now he’s crying.” The daddy picked up his boy who wrapped his body around him, my floppy dog squished in the middle. “Shame on you, Kit.”

Tears prickled my eyes. “It’s my dog.”

The daddy frowned menacingly. “I can’t believe you’re still arguing about this. It’s time for you to go home.” He turned away, hugging his little, then mumbled. “It’s no wonder you can’t find a permanent daddy.”

Over the daddy’s shoulder, Nicky, with his fake tear-streaked cheeks, smirked at me.