“That’s in there?” Mommy’s face got all red.
“What’s W-O-R-L-D-D-O-M-I-N-A-T-I-O-N?” Carol asked.
“D… D… O…” Mommy was frowning now too. “Oh. Oh!”
“See?” Carol said. “Stupid words. I hate stupid words and dumb numbers. And games where the bad guy wins. I want to go home, Mommy.”
“Um, sure,” Mommy said. She looked at the door, then at Carol. “Later. We’ll go later.”
“Now,” Carol said.
Mommy shook her head. “Carol, honey, you know we can’t leave until five.”
“I wanna nap!” Carol shouted, then felt her own cheeks get hot. She never asked for a nap before. “And a cookie. And my cuddly dog and my pillow. I wanna go away. I hate it here, Mommy. I hate it.”
“We have to keep coming, honey. We promised.”
“No.” Carol said and swung her chair around so she was looking at the computer.
It was blinking bright red. It never did that before.
“Mommy, look.” Carol pointed at the big red word.
Mommy looked behind her like she thought somebody might come in the room. “Honey, I’m not supposed to see this-”
“What’s that say?”
Mommy looked. Then Mommy grabbed Carol real tight, and ran for the door. She got it open, but all those mittens with guns and helmets were outside, with guns pointed.
Mommy stopped. “Please let us go. Please.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the man with the biggest gun said. “You have to wait for Ms. Hanaday.”
“We can’t wait for Ms. Hanaday,” Mommy said. “My daughter punched the computer. Now it’s counting down to a self-destruct.”
Carol squirmed. She watched Star Trek. She knew what a self-destruct was. “We gots to go,” she whispered.
Mommy just squeezed her tighter.
“We gots to go!” Carol shouted.
Mommy nodded.
The guards kept their guns on them.
“A self-destruct?” one of them whispered.
Another guard elbowed him. “She’s the average five-year-old. She finds the holes before we implement the program.”
“Huh?” the first guard asked.
“Y’know, how they always say that the plan’s so bad an average five-year-old could figure out how to get around it? She’s the average-”
“Enough!” Mommy said. “I don’t care if it is fake. I’m not going to take that risk.”
Carol squirmed. She wanted to kick, but Mommy hated it when she kicked. Sometimes Carol got in trouble for kicking Mommy. Not always. Sometimes Mommy forgot to yell at her. But right now, Mommy was stressed. She’d yell.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the first guard said. “We can’t let you go until Ms. Hanaday gets here.”
“And she is!” a lady’s voice said from far away. Carol peered around Mommy, and sure enough, there was that Ms. Hanaday, in her high heels and her black suit and wearing her glasses halfway down her nose even though she wasn’t as old as Mommy was.
“I wanna go,” Carol whispered.
“I know, honey,” Mommy said, but she wasn’t listening. She was just talking like she did when Carol was bugging her. But she did set Carol down, only she kept ahold of Carol’s hand so Carol couldn’t run away.
Ms. Hanaday was holding a bag. Her heels made clicky noises on the hard gray floor. It was colder out here than it was in that room. Carol shivered. She wanted a jacket. She wanted her blankie. She wanted a nap.
“I wanna go home,” she said again.
One of the guards looked at her real nice-like. He was somebody’s daddy, she just knew it. Maybe if she acted just a little cuter…
“What have we got here?” Ms. Hanaday said as she got close. She reached into the bag, and crouched at the same time. She whipped out a giant chocolate chip cookie, the kind Mommy said had to last at least three meals.
Carol reached for it, but Mommy grabbed her hand.
“We would like to leave now,” Mommy said.
“May I remind you, Ms. Rogers, that you signed a three-month contract? It’s only been three weeks.”
“Still. My daughter isn’t happy, and I’m not real comfortable here. No child should have to work all day.”
“It’s not designed as work, ma’am. It’s play.”
“Is not,” Carol muttered, wanting that cookie. She stared at it. Maybe if she stared hard enough, it would float over to her. She seen that in movies too.
“Did you hear her?” Mommy asked. “She doesn’t think it’s play.”
“Wanna nap,” Carol told Ms. Hanaday.
Really want that cookie, but Mommy still had ahold of her hand. Too tight. Mommy’s hand was cold and kinda sweaty.
Ms. Hanaday was frowning at her.
“I don’t like it here,” Carol said louder this time, in case Ms. Hanady didn’t hear so good. “Wanna go.”
“The day’s not over yet,” Ms. Hanaday said.
“Delores!” Lord Kafir shouted from down the hall. Carol knew it was him because he had the funny accent Mommy called Brid Ish. Some people from England had it. Most of them got to be bad guys in movies.
Carol shivered again.
Ms. Hanaday stood up. Lord Kafir was hurrying down the hall. His shoes didn’t make that clicky sound. They were kinda quiet, maybe because they weren’t official grown-up shoes.
“Is it true?” he asked Ms. Hanaday like there wasn’t Mommy and Carol and all those guys with the big guns. “Did she break the code?”
“I’m afraid so,” Ms. Hanaday said. She was holding the cookie so hard part of it broke. She had to move really fast to catch it before it fell to the ground.
Now the cookie was Carol-size. Carol looked at Mommy, but Mommy wasn’t looking at her.
“This is the five-year-old, right?” Lord Kafir pushed past Ms. Hanaday, knocking the cookie again. She had to grab real fast and still parts of it fell on the floor. Wasted. Carol wanted to get them, but Mommy wouldn’t let her go.
“Yes, sir. This is Carol. You’ve met her.”
“That’s right.” He crouched.
Carol made a face at him. She hated people who forgot her.
“You look pretty smart,” he said.
“I’m tired,” she said.
“Are you smart?” he asked.
“Of course I am, dummy,” Carol said.
“Carol!” Mommy breathed. “We don’t talk to grown-ups like that.”
He wasn’t a grown-up. He was a mean man in bright red clothes. He was glaring at her like she’d done something wrong.
“I think you’re pretty smart,” he said like that was bad.
“Her teachers said she was average,” Mommy said.
“We tested her IQ three times. She always came out in the normal range.” Ms. Hanaday sounded kinda scared.
“You know that children often give unreliable IQ tests.” Lord Kafir pushed up and looked at the other grown-ups. “I don’t think she’s average.”
“Mr… Lord… Sir,” Mommy said. “She’s-”
“The other five-year-olds couldn’t beat that self-destruct,” he said.
“They barely got a chance, sir.” Ms. Hanaday was dripping cookie crumbs. “She got it earlier than the others-”
“Because she solved the earlier puzzles sooner. She’s good at code words and passwords and secret plans. She shouldn’t be this good if she’s average.”
“She watches a lot of television,” Mommy said.
“Can I have that cookie?” Carol asked.
Everybody looked at her.
“Please?” she asked in her best company voice.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mommy said, but Ms. Hanaday handed her all the parts of the cookie.
Carol chomped. The cookie wasn’t as good as it looked. Maybe because it got all sweaty and gooey in Ms. Hanaday’s hand.
“I swear, sir,” Ms. Hanaday said. “She’s average.”
“I’m tired of five-year-olds,” he said. “It’s time to implement the plan.”
“Sir! We can’t do that! It’s not ready!” Ms. Hanaday said.
“Get it ready,” he said.
“But the five-year-old-”
“Isn’t average,” he said.
Ms. Hanaday looked at Mommy like Mommy had gone into the living room without permission. It was like that code grown-ups had. Lord Kafir understood, even if Carol didn’t.
“Have you seen anything?” Lord Kafir asked Mommy.
“No,” Mommy said. She was lying. Carol looked at her in shock. Mommy was a horrible liar. She lied all the time. Carol just didn’t know it before.