“Youʼre getting rusty, Scout,” Toby chuckled, letting me up.

I rotated my shoulder, certain I would have a new bruise in the morning. “Sorry, Sensei.” Of course, it might have been more appropriate for Toby to apologize since he was the one that attacked me for no good reason. Not that I was going to hold my breath for that one. Toby wasnʼt big on the whole admitting he was wrong thing. Itʼs not that I dislike Toby. Really, I admire him in many ways. After knocking up the head cheerleader in high school, he joined the Army so that he could support his new family while making the old one proud. After serving two tours of duty in Iraq, he came back home and joined the police force. When his child-bride left him a year later, he took on the job of raising Layne by himself. And he managed to do it all while still looking like a rock star.

On the other hand, he was a bit arrogant, somewhat moody, and excessively sexist. Toby had always helped out at Uncle Charlesʼs martial arts school when he was around and pretty much took over when he got out of the Army. He always expected Jase and Charlie to excel at every move. He pushed them hard, and was very expressive with his disappointment when they didnʼt live up to his exceedingly high expectations. If I managed to do well in any way the only emotion he ever managed to show was shock.

Tobyʼs biggest insult? “You fight like a girl.”

His biggest compliment? “Thatʼs showing youʼve got balls.” Imagine how proud Mom was when an eight year old Scout asked her what balls were and why it was good to have them.

“If you wanted a real fight you shouldʼve ambushed one of the boys,” I said with more than a little sass in my voice.

“A lot of good that wouldʼve done me. Youʼre the one with all the talent.” Well, that was unexpected.

“You think Iʼm talented?” It was still entirely possible that this was some big set up with my girly fighting skills serving as the punch line.

“Are you kidding?” Toby asked through a mouthful of pie. “Youʼre not as strong as Charlie or as fast as Jase, but youʼre the single best defensive fighter Iʼve ever seen. Itʼs like you can see the punch coming before your opponent even decides to throw it.” He was complimenting me? Really? Perhaps a zombie alien apocalypse was rapidly approaching after all.

I was grateful though that Toby had given me the perfect opportunity to bring up something that I had been thinking about for a while. I gnawed on the inside of my lip and focused my eyes intently on a water stain shaped like Abraham Lincoln on Grammaʼs ceiling. “I want to start training again,” I finally mumbled.

I was nervous as to Tobyʼs reaction. Toby was as abrasive and mercurial as Charlie was calm and consistent. I fully expected him to either laugh at me or complain about my attempt to waste his time.

“Really?”

“Iʼve been thinking about it for a while.” Since a snowy, icy day in November to be exact.

“Do you have a class I could join?”

“No, I donʼt.” My heart sank. “But I wouldnʼt mind giving you private lessons once a week.” My heart soared. That was even better than I had hoped.

We worked out a time that would fit both our schedules as I made a couple of ham sandwiches.

“Thank God, Iʼm starving,” Jase said, relieving me of half my load when I returned to the back room.

Charlie quickly grabbed the other half. “This white stuff is from a tub, right? You know I hate that can stuff. It tastes like metal.”

At some point I should have gotten used to their lack of gratitude, but I hadnʼt. What did they think I was? Some sort of personal servant eager to meet their every whim and desire?

Ummm, no. I donʼt think so.

“Wow, thank you so much, Scout,” I said sarcastically, repositioning myself between my brother and Charlie. “That was so sweet of you to fix us something to eat.”

“Thank you, Scout,” Charlie said, leaning over to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Youʼre the best.”

Okay, so maybe I was somewhat wiling to meet Charlieʼs every whim and desire. “Is it good?”

Charlie took a big bite of his pie. His eyes got big as he struggled to swallow. “Itʼs great.” Charlie has always been a wretched liar.

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing. Itʼs great. Different, but good different.” I grabbed the plate from him and took a big bite, which I immediately spit out. “That Cool Whip is rancid!”

Jase leaned over and scooped a big glob of creamy white vileness onto his finger and plopped it into his mouth before I could stop him.

“Excellent work, Paula Deen,” Jase laughed. “Iʼm sure pumpkin pie with a nice sour cream topping is going to be all the rage at next yearʼs holiday gatherings.” I took a tentative taste and realized he was right. I had mistaken sour cream for whipped cream. At least Angel wasnʼt around to gloat over my disastrous culinary skills. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Iʼll go get you another piece of pie.”

Charlie grabbed the plate out of my hand. “No, you wonʼt. I told you, I like it.”

“You donʼt have to--”

“Scout, please shut up and let me eat my pie.”

He ended up eating the whole thing, sour cream and all. He tried to act like he was enjoying it, but I could tell he was just doing it so my feelings wouldnʼt get hurt. Charlie really was a good person and one of my best friends. He would do absolutely anything for me and trusted me implicitly. Which is why I felt really guilty as I dug into my purse when I was back home, sitting in the middle of my bed.

I grabbed the earbuds off of my iPod as the tape recorder rewound. The last thing I needed was for Jase to catch me.

The first thing I noticed when I pushed play was that my purse only slightly distorted the quality of the recording. I breathed a sigh of relief. My planning would have been for nothing if I couldnʼt hear what they said while I was out of the room.

The second thing I noticed was how loud and abrasive my voice was. Did I always sound like that? If so, how on earth does anyone manage to have a conversation with me?

The third thing I noticed was that boys can go a really long time without talking. I was just about to give up when one of them spoke.

“Why in the hell does she have that mongrelʼs pen in her purse?” Yes! I made a mental note to thank Mr. Brenner for all of the useful information he taught us in our section on basic human psychology.

“I told you, she was working on that newspaper stuff with him,” the other voice said. I was pretty sure that one was Jase. It was somewhat surprising how much they sounded alike. “Iʼm sure she borrowed a pen from him and didnʼt give it back. Itʼs no big. Seriously.”