BENCHED Read Free Page B

talk .”
    “Yeah, smooth talk your way out of a ticket after you showed complete disregard for the safety of--”
    “I’m done here,” I snap, and turn on my heel to walk away from her.
    “Hey! I was talking to you!”
    “I’m done listening. Go inside and play happy homemaker. I’m sure your husband will be home soon. Do you keep the uniform on for him?”
    It’s her silence, oddly enough, that makes me turn around.
    I look back at her and see her with a horribly wounded look on her face, like she’s been physically struck. When her eyes meet mine she flinches and runs full tilt at the house, then slams the door behind her. It’s shocking how fast she can run.
    “The hell,” I mutter to myself.
    Shaking it off with a shrug, I head inside. The rent-a-room guys are done setting up and the delivery kid from the grocery store has finished stocking my pantry. I tip them all and Google the nearest gym. I have some pent up emotion to work out.

Chapter Two
    P hoebe

    I can’t believe this .
    Of all the luck, he picks the rental next door to my house.
    “Honey, are you working on your school stuff?”
    “Yeah,” Carrie calls down from her bedroom, a note of childish reluctance in her voice.
    “Good. Mommy needs a shower and then I’ll make us something good to eat, okay?”
    “Okay,” she calls back. “I’m missing my shows.”
    I sigh. Loudly. “They’re streaming, Carrie. You can watch them after dinner.”
    “Moooooom.” She drags the word out into a lament.
    “Do your math!”
    As I head up the stairs, she calls back, “I hate math.”
    I stop at her bedroom door and lean on the frame. “Why?”
    “Well,” she shrugs, sitting at her little desk, “it’s hard.”
    “Good. The things worth doing are always hard.”
    “Why is it good that they’re hard?”
    “I don’t know, hon. Look, it can’t be that hard. Mrs. Robinson says you’re getting top marks in math.” Carrie looks at the carpet and toys with her pencil in hand. “What is it?”
    She clears her throat. “Cassidy made fun of me.”
    “What?”
    I step in and crouch next to her. “Why?”
    “I’m good at math and stuff. She said--” Carrie starts, but stops.
    “She said what?”
    “She said girls aren’t good at--”
    “Stop right there,” I tell her. “I don’t want to hear that. It’s bad enough you have to hear that crap from boys. You shouldn’t have to hear it from girls, too.” Carrie looks up and meets my eyes. “All your life, people are going to tell you that you can’t do this or that because you’re a girl, and you’re going to have to prove them wrong.”
    “You mean like you?”
    “Yeah.” I sigh. “Like me.”
    “Cassidy said something else.”
    “What?”
    Carrie looks at her feet as she swings them under her desk chair. She’s still wearing her school shoes, sneakers that light up when her heel hits the ground.
    “She said you’re a bull dyke. Her daddy says so.”
    I nod, and through some miracle keep my calm, happy mom-face on and smile at her. “I’ve heard that before, honey. It just rolls off my back. Don’t let them get to you, or they won’t stop.”
    “What does it mean?”
    “It’s just a mean thing men say about women who are too strong for them, that’s all.”
    “Why?”
    I let out a long, angry sigh. “I wish I knew. Finish up, huh? How much do you have?” She holds up her homework papers. “Not much at all. Let me get cleaned up and we’ll eat and watch something, all right?”
    Carrie nods and turns back to her work with a huff.
    I walk into my bedroom. I remove my sidearm from my duty belt, clear it, and lock it in a fingerprint-coded safe bolted down in my closet. I remove my duty belt, regular belt, and then strip off my uniform. I hang my cumbersome anti-stab vest on the rack I’ve screwed into the back wall of the closet, then pull on a loose tank top and shorts.
    I walk down to my garage, step inside, and lock Carrie out.
    I then proceed to beat the