Page 94 of Mad Mabel

“R.J. Kenton Real Estate, Sailor speaking, how may I help you?”

“Sailor?” I exclaim. “Did you say your name was Sailor?”

“I did. Who am I speaking with?”

I don’t like to be judgmental, but frankly, I’m appalled. What will people call their children next? Builder? Teacher? Archaeologist? As far as I’m concerned, calling your child Sailor was a declaration that you had far too much time on your hands, and anyone who attempted to name their child that should be issued the name Eustace or Darold by the government as punishment.

“My name is Elsie Fitzpatrick,” I say, “from 2 Kenny Lane. I’d like to speak to Rebecca Kenton, please.”

I’d discovered a fridge magnet in my letterbox a few weeks back and thought,Well, I may not require the services of a real estate agent, but then a fridge magnet is a fridge magnet, isn’t it?For the last week it has held up a self-portrait of Persephone sporting a very high ponytail that resembles a penis. I’d found it very off-putting, and ended up placing the magnet directly over the penis/ponytail. This morning, as I reached for the fridge door, I realized that Ididrequire the services of a real estate agent after all.

“May I ask what it is regarding?” the woman asks, an idiotic question if ever I’ve heard one.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

I’m being a smart-ass, but mother of God… I was tired. Until a few weeks ago, Kenny Lane had been home. It had been a quiet place. A safe place, for me and for the neighbors. It wasn’t that place anymore, because of me. It may not have been my fault. But I had the power to change it.

I wait, but she doesn’t even have one guess. A sense of humor wouldn’t hurt, I think. Especially with a name like Sailor.

“I’d like to put my house on the market,” I say.

62

THEN

As Christos’s head cracked against the asphalt, I screamed.

It felt so dramatic, so indulgent, so girlish. Like a woman in a horror film about to be devoured by a zombie.

“You psycho!” Billy screamed at me. “Look what you did!”

He stepped back, giving me a sight line to where Christos lay. Billy kneeled beside him. “Christos? You okay, man?”

Christos opened his eyes and touched his temple, dazed.

“She tried to kill you,” Billy said.

“Who?” Christos looked confused. “Mabel?”

“Yes, Mabel,” Billy said. “Who else do you know going around killing people?”

“Sorry, man.” Christos sat up slowly. “You’re right. Of course it was Mabel.”

I felt that in my core, somewhere near my heart. Billy looked smugger than he’d ever looked.

“It’s not as if you’d be able to knock over two guys with a single push,” Christos continued. “Whereas Mabel can do it easily.”

Christos glanced at me, and I saw something like… mischief in his eyes. It took a few seconds for Billy to understand.

“I could knock you down with my little finger,” Billy said, getting to his feet. You could see how enraged he was at the idea of being knocked down by a girl. “Anyway, she knocked you down worse.”

“She knockedyoudown,” Christos said, getting to his feet. He wobbled a little. “With enough force that you fell into me and knocked me down.”

Christos made the noise of someone withholding a laugh. It set me off and I let out a snort.

Billy seethed. “You better not tell anyone, Christos. Or you, Mad Mabel.”

Christos made a salute. “Scout’s honor.”