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going?” I ask, but I move my gaze back over to Gabriella who’s still frozen and staring at Gracie.  I know I should find the words to say something, anything, to explain or make this less awkward but I don’t.  Instead, I stare at her as she stares at Gracie, and when her eyes finally meet mine I give a slight incline of my chin.  “Gabriella.” And then I walk to my locker, not taking the time to change from my practice gear or remove my shoes like normal.  There’s a protective streak surging its way through me and though I know it’s stupid, just as the image of Gabriella snatching Gracie from me and running is stupid, I can’t help the desire I feel to run as fast and far as I can so no one ever stares at her again. 
    As I slam the door shut and head back out, I nearly slam into Lovely Lauren and take a moment to wonder if some higher order is messing with me right now.  I’ve never been overly religious or interested in the idea of God, maybe because neither of my parents has ever really talked about faith or a higher power—I mean, my mom’s a biology teacher and my dad believes anything he can read on the side of a cereal box.  When I was little and other people talked about God, I envisioned a sort of puppet master lording over all of us, pulling strings and controlling our lives.  That image flits through my mind right now as I’m practically standing on top of Lauren who’s going out to dinner with the boy I appear incapable of falling out of love with, moments after coming face-to-face with the girl who’s brother knocked me up and then threatened my life, and suddenly I’m wondering how the eff I can get to this puppeteer and take his job—or just cut his damn strings.
    “You must be happy.”
    The candy coated sweetness of Lauren’s statement cuts through my thoughts and I raise my brow as I hitch Gracie higher on my hip, smug when she hides her face in my shoulder rather than meet Lauren’s ridiculous grin.  When this is the only reaction I give her, she flicks her hair over her shoulder (hair that is now perfect and straight after being soaked only twenty minutes ago, which makes me want to both throw up and ask her how she did it) and smiles.
    “It must be good news, knowing that when your daughter grows up she’s going to be gorgeous.”  When I remain silent again, I see her eyes narrow before she comes in for the kill.  “She looks exactly like Gabriella Kash.  Strong genes in that family, but you already know that.”
    So, here’s when I know having a baby changes you.  Two years ago, a comment designed to make me irate would have succeeded.  Lauren would be on the ground and I’d feel a lot better right now because however tacky girl fighting is, one girl decking another girl for being an asshole is the same as a guy decking another guy in my opinion; it’s just necessary sometimes.  Yet, even as much as I want to punch her, as much as I can feel every fiber inside of me begging to release and light this girl up, I don’t, because Gracie’s with me and I have the ability to remember that things I do can hurt her. 
    Gold star for my chart, Flynny, I’m learning .
    I settle instead for taking a step closer and peering down at her, stretching to my full height.  I’m pleased when I see her smile dim a little and her eyes widen as she tilts her head to look up at me.
    “Lauren? ” She swallows almost audibly and I wish I could record the sweet sound of it.  “Fuck off.”  It’s the first real sentence I’ve said to her in almost four years and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.  Maybe there’s something to be said for expressing your feelings after all.
    ~
    My mom’s setting the table when Gracie and I get home.  As has become our routine in the past year, I set Gracie in her high chair and get her dinner ready while my mom finishes our dinner and we share about our day.  When dinner is over, she goes to give Gracie a bath and I clean