“Sally.”
A sniff. “What.”
Ox sighed. “Sally…”
Pouting a little. “What?”
“Your folks are dead,” Ox said gently. “You know this.”
“They aren’t dead.”
“Sally.”
“They aren’t.” To Lila: “See? This is the problem.”
“I’m lost,” Lila confessed. “Also, do I have to be here for this conversation? I feel like I don’t need to be here. I also feel the convo doesn’t need to be held in my house. If anyone’s wondering.”
Ox sighed. “Understandable.”
“Which part?”
“Look, Lila, I know I’m not exactly an invited guest—”
“Neither of you are,” Lila pointed out.
“—but could we just sit down and talk about this?”
“Maybe over pizza?” Sally added hopefully.
“You ate all the pizza.” But Lila shooed them both out of the baking soda–laden kitchen and into the living room, and she wasn’t sure why. She knew this was idiotic. Well, I’m intrigued. Sue me.
Ox and Sally settled on opposite ends of the couch, glaring at each other. Lila stood before them and, from long habit, absently made sure she had a clear shot at the door. “Okay, so, I’m probably wondering why I called you here today.”
“He just needs to leave me alone!” Sally burst out, then followed up with an angry forearm wipe to the nose. “I’m not bothering him, I’m not bothering anybody.”
“That’s not true at all,” Lila pointed out.
“It’s not about bothering,” Ox said. “You can’t be on your own. You’re too young.”
“I’m not on my own. My parents are alive!”
This child, Lila thought, speaks in italics all the time.
“Sally, I’m sorry to have to say this to you yet again, but the…bodies…”
Wait, a pause? Why is he pausing? Is he about to use a euphemism? Or lie?
“…were identified. There’s no doubt. Your parents are dead. Their DNA was all over the… They’re gone.”
“You wouldn’t even let me see the bodies!”
“Of course I wouldn’t let you see the bodies!” He shot to his feet, paced a few steps, then plunked back down on the couch. “I’m not taking you to a crash site hundreds of miles away where you have to wade through loads of debris while trying to get a look at what’s left of your poor parents! No one anywhere thinks that’s a good idea. You could travel the globe, taking a poll, and every single person would talk about what a terrible idea seeing a crash site is.”
Crash site? “Crash site?”
“Their Cessna went down two days ago.”
“Oh.” To Sally: “I’m sorry.”
“You just have to take our word for it, Sally. Why would we lie? D’you think we want to haul kids into the system? We don’t, I promise. Seeing the bodies, Jesus.” Ox sounded equal parts exasperated and horrified. “But my point is, you’re not alone. There’s a whole system in place to help you.”
Sure, your folks are toast and they’ve forfeited their frequent flier miles and you’re all alone in the world, but cheer up—social services exists! Lila began to get an inkling of the dilemma—on both sides.
But at least Ox hadn’t simply tried to grab the kid and leave and screw explanations to clueless civilians. So he was either a thoughtful individual who abhorred violence, genuinely cared about Sally, and preferred to talk things out, or he didn’t want a bullet in the kneecap. Either way: here they were.
“So…” He could be really good with our kids. Once he gets in some practice, that is. He’d be a good sire. Tall, smart, quick cubs with green eyes.
Wait, what?
Lila realized they were waiting for her to finish her sentence. “So this ‘system in place,’ that’d be IPA?” Lila asked.
He did one of those awkward cough things that he could not pull off. “I, uh, can’t really talk about that to people outside the agency.”
“And yet.” Lila silently gestured to the three of them, the room, her house…the meeting place. Where they were meeting. Where she, an accountant, and a bear cub were meeting.
And now that she thought about it, in a world with bear cubs masquerading as little girls (or vice versa), having a paranormal social service in place made nothing but sense. It wasn’t like you could put Sally in with ordinary children. Holy shit, no wonder the chick on the phone wanted me to call them! But is that their setup? Any rando can call IPA and report a wayward bear cub? How do they weed out the cranks? And what do they do with the non-bear cub people who call? They’ve gotta do something, because until last night I had no idea werebears were real. So how far does “the system set in place” go? Do people who find out their secret disappear? Is there a werebear secret police?
And then, something new: If there was a fire, he would go in after our babies. He’d never leave them to burn.
She shook off the alien thought—it felt like a suggestion someone else was trying to download into her brain—and struggled to narrow her focus. “You don’t want to talk about IPA, fine, let’s talk about her.” To Sally: “By which I mean you. So you think the accountant’s wrong about your folks?”
Sally’s dark eyes went wide. “You’re an accountant?” This was in a tone of someone greatly betrayed. “Not one of my caseworkers? Why are you even chasing me then?”
“Hey, accountants are important! And I’m transitioning departments.”
“The accountant,” Lila began again, only to be interrupted again.
“My name’s Oz,” Ox whined.
“He’s wrong about your folks,” Lila continued. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”
“Cor-rect.”
“You know they’re alive.”
“Yup.” This was followed by a vigorous nod.
“Okay, but alive doesn’t necessarily mean okay.”
Ox cleared his throat. “Lila, we can’t indulge the fantasy—”
Lila ignored such obvious madness. “What if your folks are sick? Or hurt? If their plane crashed, they’ll have to recover before they can come get you. Maybe that’s the hold up.”