Stained Glass Souls (Wattys 2014, Collector's Dream Award Winner)

Price: The Way Patience Disappears

(Price)

His fists clenched: a warning sign. Blood was already underneath his fingernails, dark red and flaking. “For the last time…” He said, teeth clenched. “Move.”

“No!” Atticus was grinning at him, revealing a gap between his two front teeth. At nearly four feet shorter, with curls like Jewel and the temperament of a wild animal, he was at once charming and impossible. He waved a picture book in the air, triumphant. “I found it first! And now you have to read to me!”

With a sigh, Price knelt. His back already ached from speaking down to his little brother. “Kid, we don’t have time to read another book.”

“No!” Atticus was shrieking now. He threw the book on the floor and stomped his feet, lower lip quivering. In about five minutes, Price predicated a full scale meltdown. Category four. A librarian stocking shelves, hands full of picture books, shot them both a warning look.

“Inside voices.” She hissed. Her long plaid skirt swung as she turned, marching briskly down another aisle. Price glared at her retreating figure. Inside voices. Classic. He thought bitterly. Atticus was still teary-eyed, and his cheeks were slowly flushing red. They didn’t have long now – only about two minutes.

“Atti,” Price pleaded, picking the book up from the floor, “I’ll read it when we get home.”

“I want it now!” Atticus started stomping his feet. The lights imbedded in the soles of his Sketcher’s sneakers started flashing red.

“Okay, time to go.” Price stood quickly, dropping the picture back on the floor, and grabbed Atticus’s hand. He dragged his protesting little brother to the other side of the children’s section, where Jewel was sitting on a yellow beanbag, staring out the window. “Come on, kid. You get a book?”

Jewel stood carefully, movements slow. She had been like this the entire weekend, every action deliberate. Silent, downcast. Price felt his patience threatening to wilt again, with Atticus sniffling on one side, and a child of the ice queen on the other.  

“Jewel,” He repeated, “Come on.”

Jewel held up her book. I haven’t finished this, she seemed to be saying. She pushed past Price to checkout. “How come she gets to get a book?” Atticus started gulping. He scrubbed his tiny, round blue eyes with his free hand. “Price, I wanna book!”

Price marched over to the counter and grabbed Jewel. “Leaving, Jewel. Leaving.” The librarian from before, now behind the counter, gave him a sickly smile.

“Have a great day!”

He gritted his teeth as he led his siblings away. As soon as they passed into the daylight, out through the double doors of the library, Atticus started screaming.

“Price! Price!” He planted both feet firmly on the pavement and refused to move. “I wanna…I wanna…book!” His voice was a loud, shrill wail, and Price winced.

“Shut up.” He jerked Atticus’s arm. “You hear me? Shut. Up.” When Atticus refused to quiet, this time sitting on the pavement, Price bent down and scooped him up in his arms. He pointed at Jewel. “Car. Now.”

Loading an unhappy toddler into a car seat was a quite a feat. Price, straining to avoid tiny flying fists and strap the seatbelt over Atticus’s jerking body, decided that he hated children. He finally succeeded in fastening the seatbelt, only to turn around and hear a devastating click.

“Atticus!” He gripped his head with his hands. Take the kids to the library, Lily had said. Let them read. What happened when, three hours later, they were late for a play practice and still wanted to read? He slid into the driver’s seat and pointed at Jewel in the rearview mirror. “Strap your brother in, please.”