The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club by Laurie Notaro Page B

and the bigger one was Casey.
    “Amy’s . . . kind of our sister,” Casey said.
    “Why is Amy’s mom going to give you six hundred dollars?” I probed. “Is that how much money she had in her purse when you cut her bushes?”
    “No. It’s because we have custody of Amy,” Casey informed me.
    “Oh,” I said, deciding not to say anything else.
    “Vicki and her live-in boyfriend attacked my mom,” Staci, the six-year-old ballerina, said.
    “Yeah, and Vicki drives up and down the street trying to figure out where we live,” Casey added.
    I was confused again. “Who’s Vicki?” I asked.
    “Amy’s mom,”
the girls said together.
    “How did Vicki attack your mom if she doesn’t know where you live?” I asked.
    “She didn’t attack her at home,” Casey told me. “Vicki attacked her at the courthouse. She punched my mom in the neck.”
    “We were glad that Amy’s mom went to jail,” Staci added. “But it was only for one night.”
    I didn’t want to know anything else about Amy, her mom, or the courthouse; I had heard enough to know that it wasn’t any of my damn business.
    “Can we pet your dog?” Casey asked, peering in the house.
    “Sure,” I figured, letting them in. “Keep the hedge clippers on the porch, though.”
    “Cute house,” Staci said as her pink tulle swept inside and she looked around.
    “Thanks,” was all I could manage to say.
    A half-hour later, the girls were sitting on my couch, eating Pop-Tarts and drinking iced tea. They had filled me in on every other detail of their lives, including the facts that Casey had four dads, while Staci only had three; they had to take their dog for a walk later that day because the Realtor was coming over, and if she saw it, they would all be thrown out on their butts on the sidewalk; they were vegetarians, and did I think that maybe I could give their mom and dad some sugar because they hadn’t had any in a while for their coffee. I was sitting at the kitchen counter, also drinking iced tea, and wondering how the hell to get them out of my house.
    “I have to start fixing dinner soon,” I announced.
    “For us?” they said together happily.
    “No,” I said. “I don’t think you’d like what we’re having.”
    “What are you having?” Casey asked.
    “Um, just a lot of meat,” I lied. “Big pieces of meat.”
    “Do you have a husband?” Staci asked.
    Although I knew that she understood the concept of a “live-in” boyfriend, I lied again. “Yes, I do,” I stuttered. “And he’s a big meat eater, but I think it’s time for you girls to go home now. I’m sure your mom’s worried.”
    “I bet she’s not,” Casey said.
    “Bye,” Staci said as she petted the dog. “See you tomorrow!”
    “Um, I work tomorrow,” I mentioned quickly.
    “We’ll wait till you get home,” Casey said. Staci nodded.
    I felt bad. I felt bad that they didn’t want to go home, that no one gave a shit where they were, and I felt worse when I realized that they were more than likely smarter than their parents. I felt bad as they walked out the door and down the driveway with their huge hedge clippers in both hands, but I knew better than to think that Staci and Casey were my problem to solve.
    I kept thinking about them up until my live-in boyfriend came home, and when he walked through the door, I made him sit down right away.
    “I’ve got to tell you this before I forget one detail,” I insisted.
    “Wait,” he said, waving his hands. “I have to tell you this first.”
    “But you won’t believe what happened this afternoon,” I stressed.
    “You won’t believe what I just saw,” he interrupted.
    “Mine’s funnier,” I insisted.
    “Impossible,” he replied.
    “You wish,” I shot back.
    “I just saw those two little girls from down the street cutting our neighbor’s bushes with hedge clippers, and one of them was dressed up like a fairy!” he exclaimed.
    We laughed, and it all seemed pretty funny until he called me