Seven

Part I

ONCE upon a time—not so long ago, really—a mother goat lived in a small townhouse with her seven young kids. It was a bustling day in the city outside, and the raucous of the lively street below seeped through the barely open window.

Gia rolled over in her bed, letting her back hit the cool sheets. With a yawn, she lifted her arms and crossed them behind her head, stretching as her gaze traveled to the bedside table. A pale green lamp stood idle, and she flipped it on before her sleepily blinking eyes met the angry red digits on the front of her alarm clock. "Oh, shoot, I'm gonna be late!"

Seven o'clock. Gia scrambled out from under the covers, throwing them to the side. She didn't have time to make the bed, and even if she did, she wouldn't have. Gia still hadn't grown used to not having someone else to do that.

Once dressed, she yanked her phone from the cord, stuffing it in the side pocket of her synthetic wool, floral-patterned sweater, and buttoned it up to her neck. Her plain, lilac-colored dress hung at her knees, and one bare hoof pounded into the door as Gia kicked it open and rushed out into the hallway.

She sprinted down the narrow, carpeted corridor, banging a knock into the door of both bedrooms. "Kids, I'm leaving! Behave for the sitter!" Her voice took on a serious tone as the last few words left her muzzle. She had explicitly told them the importance of today, many, many times. She could only wish that this interview would go well.

Gia gripped the stair rail, trotting down the steps and crossing the living room to the front door. She stopped at the small table in the entryway, dropping her purse from her shoulder and rummaging through her belongings one last time. Keys? Check. Wallet? Check. Emergency instructions? She glanced up at the yellow sticky note pinned to the cork board beside the door. Hopefully, they won't have to use it... but check.

She returned to her purse. The only other thing she needed was the garage opener, and it was laying on the kitchen counter. Gia turned around, striding back across the wide family area. As she approached the kitchen doorway, a loud crash stopped her in her tracks. Silence followed, and Gia's quickening heartbeat was the only noise in her ears. She slowed her steps as she tiptoed closer to the arched entrance to the dining area, and pressed her shoulder against the wall. She peered around the corner, and a wave of relief washed over her as seven small smiles stared back.

Her posture loosened as she let out a sigh, and joined her children at the table. "What are you guys up to?" she asked, eyeing them all suspiciously.

Genna gave her mother a toothy grin and shrugged innocently. "Nothing, Mom."

Gia immediately noticed the dustpan she held behind her back. She chose not to say anything, instead turning to Gentry, her oldest son, in hopes of a more elaborate answer.

"Yeah, we were just getting breakfast ready for the younger kids." The broom was taller than he was, and its handle stuck out above his head. Gia rolled her eyes.

"Well, hurry and clean up whatever you broke. Your sitter will be here soon." She instantly snatched the heavy jug of milk from her smallest kid, an adorable little troublemaker known as Gideon, and proceeded to pour a little into his bowl of cereal. She could already imagine the messes he would make while she was gone, but hopefully this sitter could handle some spilled milk.

Both of the older kids, as well as her second litter consisting of four, all groaned at the mention of a sitter. Gideon just giggled. This whole breakfast fiasco was surely Genna and Gentry's idea, trying to prove they were responsible enough to look after themselves. It wasn't that Gia didn't trust them—in fact, she was certain that all seven of them would take care of each other, but she just couldn't leave them alone. Not after what had happened.

"Don't worry," Gia sarcastically chimed, ripping off a paper towel from the roll above the sink. "Mrs. Woolson said no. Apparently she can't put up with all of you." She used the napkin to wipe the arch-shaped mustache of milk off of her littlest's upper lip, then lifted an eyebrow at the rest of her children.

"Well, we didn't like her anyway." Gracie paused between spoonfuls of frosted grass flakes and grumbled through the food in her mouth.

"I don't know how much longer we could've put up with her," Graham added, "that grumpy old sheep only let us do homework and chores."

"She was free, at least," his mother sighed, tousling the fur between his little ears. "I had to get a last-minute hire from that website, and it cost me a horn and hoof, so they better be good. Hopefully, I can get this job, and then maybe we can afford it—or I won't have to work on Saturdays." Seemingly having forgotten about the time, she glanced down at her watch. "I was hoping they'd be here already, but won't be working at all if I don't leave now."

All seven kids got up from their chairs and crowded around their mother. "We love you, Mom!" they said together.

She patted each of them in return and turned to leave the kitchen. "Gentry, Genna, you two know where the emergency phone is. But remember, only call me if it's an emergency. Don't do anything dumb before the sitter gets here, and don't open the door to strangers. Especially—"

"Mom, we know." The two oldest looked up at their mother, and she gave them a final, proud smile before she sprinted back over to the door, shouting a farewell as it closed behind her.

Gia had been right about one thing at least, these kids could and would take care of each other. They knew how important this was to their mother—how important it was to them all. The bills were piling up ever since she lost her job, and no matter how hard their mother tried, she couldn't find another. It hurt their hearts, even little Gideon who hardly knew what was going on. Their hard-working mother deserved whatever job she wanted, they just couldn't understand why everyone else couldn't see that.