It's a January evening, and I'm lying on the couch, riveted to the pages of To Kill a Mockingbird. I'm on the last chapter, and I need to know what happens, right away.

"Take your feet out of my lap, Alex. I'm trying to read." Alex has his grey-socked feet in John's lap, obscuring the pages of his copy of the book.

"Daddy, your head is in the way, and I can't see what's happening." I try to push John's head off my shoulder. His ponytail is in the way of my page.

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't talk since you're lying on top of everyone!" Alex tries to shove me off, sending me sprawling even more.

"Fine, I'll read aloud." I clear my throat. "Let's see. 'Autumn again, and Boo's children needed him.'"

"I do love that quote. So many beautiful metaphors, so much elegant language. This whole book is a work of art." Alex has a misty look in his eyes. "Anyway, keep going."

I got this book as an assignment for English class a few weeks ago. Alex started screaming when I brought it home, and then began reading chapters to me before bed each night. John had never read the story before, and so he was assigned to read it with us. We're on the last chapter now, and if I don't find out what comes next, someone is going to get hurt.

"'...and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.'" Alex finishes reading the last line and closes his copy with a comfortable snap.

John and I leap to our feet in unison. "What?!"

"It's not allowed to be over!"

"I don't want it to be over!"

In all of our manuvering, we've knocked Alex onto the floor. He laughs and pulls me down with him. He's wearing his glasses tonight, and they're slightly crooked on his nose. "Well, that's the end."

I fling my hands into the air. "Now what do I do with my long weekend?"

"Call up your friends." John sits cross-legged beside us. "Theo and Harriet are always delighted to see you."

"They're skiing in New Hampshire for the weekend."

"Lafayette needs a babysitter..."

"Ugh, no. Watching a bunch of spoiled little French kids is not my idea of a good time." I sit up and run a hand through my hair. "What's for lunch?"

"That's rude, you haven't even met them." Alex sits up, too, and fixes his glasses. "Also, tuna sandwiches."

"Gross! Why tuna fish?" John yawns. "I'll figure something out." He stands up, stretches, and walks to the kitchen. "We've got the ingredients for pizza! Come help me, you two."

"I don't need to meet them. They sound bratty." I walk over to help John with lunch.

"Alright, I'll call and tell him you'll do it."

"What? I said I didn't want to!" I look up from the flour I'm measuring.

"Yes, but anyone with the energy to be that rude has the energy to watch some kids for a few hours tonight." He picks up the landline in the kitchen and dials a number. "Bonjour, Laf, mon amie! Oui, oui, bien sur." What follows is a stream of rapid French that leaves my head spinning.

I perch on the counter and pour olive oil for the crust. John adds yeast, and I start to stir the dough mixture.

"I'm going to bring you over around five tonight, Kathryn." Alex is done with his phone call, and he covers the bowl of dough with a cloth and places it on top of the fridge. "The girls are really excited to meet you."

"How many of them are there?" Jumping down from the counter, I grab a block of cheese from the refrigerator. John loves to cook, but everything has to be fresh. I don't think he's ever even bought Break-N-Bake cookie dough.

"He has three daughters. Henriette, Anastasie, and Virginie." John hands me the cheese grater.

"What now?" My brain is turning spirals just trying to make sense of those names.

"Rie, Stacy, and Gin for short. They're eight, six, and three, and they're all adorable." Alex steals a pinch of cheese from my bowl. "Watch your fingers on the grater, sweetheart."

"Dad, there's six inches of cheese between my fingers and the grater. I'll be okay."

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

John's voice is full of dry laughter. "By a cheese grater. Under adult supervision."

I yelp as my finger brushes a side of the box grater. "Dad! It bit me!"

Alex immediately jumps to my rescue. "Are you okay? It's bleeding. It shouldn't be bleeding. John, get the first aid kit, I'll call the hospital!"

I inspect my finger, with its tiny nick that's barely even broken the skin. "Calm yourselves. It's not even really bleeding."

*****************

At five exactly, we pull into Lafayette's driveway. The tires of Alex's car crunch on the gravel, and I take a deep breath. I used to watch my little foster brothers and sisters all the time, sure, but I've never even seen these little girls before in my life. I don't know what they're going to be like, or even if they'll like me.

I climb out of the car and walk up the path to the house. Every step feels like I'm walking closer to my doom.

"Dad, why are you humming Taps?"

"Because you look like you're headed to a funeral, not a simple babysitting job." He resumes his hum.

"Kids hate me, Dad. I'm just no good with the little ones." I think back to the time that I was in charge of my foster "cousins" Jake and Laurie. The two of them refused to listen to a word I said, trashing the house and fighting with each other. It's not just one bad experience that's turned me off of the small ones, it's a whole string of failures and messes and just general disasters.

I take a deep breath and knock on the door. There's a sound of scuffling, a dog barks, and then a tiny girl opens the door. She's wearing a pair of purple overalls and has her thumb in her mouth. There's a giant halo of hair surrounding her face. She looks up at me with giant eyes for a moment, then turns and yells something in French.

Lafayette walks over and scoops up the little girl. "Ah, Virginie, I see you have found our guests. Welcome!" He kisses first Alex, then me on each cheek. "Please, come inside."

The house is clean and lovely, sparsely furnished with polished floors. Everything, from the sofa to the lamps to even the dolls scattered about, is extravagant and beautiful. There's a second little girl upside down in a wing chair, reading a book labelled in swirling golden letters. She's wearing a long dress and a bow in her hair, which is dark and straight. She ignores my presence, her only movement the turning of pages.

Lafayette's wife, a pretty woman in a pink gown named Adrienne, is chasing a third girl around the house. This little girl is in a paint-splattered dress, and her hair is the most spectacularly puffy of all. She has black paint smeared on her face, and she's screaming and waving a pillow. She takes a step, which sends her off-balance, and she knocks an antique vase of dried flowers onto the floor, where it shatters.

"Anastasie, really? We have a guest!" Adrienne picks up the little girl and carries her over to the couch.

The girl with the book rolls her eyes and climbs down from the chair. "Maman, Stasie ripped a page from my book! Now I don't know the ending."

I sit down beside her on the floral carpet. "What are you reading?"

"Comment Entraîner son Dragon," she says shyly. "How to Train your Dragon."

Bingo. "I love that story! I used to pretend I had my own dragon."

She laughs softly. "What was his name?" Her voice has the slightest hint of a French accent.

"His name was Gerald. I used to try to feed him my dinner under the table." I remember my first foster home, where my foster mom worked three jobs and was nearly never home. When she was, she was always filling out paperwork and trying to clean, so I had to invent a friend for myself.

"My dragon is named Pet- Pert- Papa, what is my dragon named?"

"His name is Petruchio," Lafayette calls from the dining room.

"What's your name?" The little girl, who as assume is Henriette, sits down matter-of-factly in my lap.

"Well, 'they call me Kathryn those that do speak of me,'" I quote, laughing. We read The Taming of the Shrew in school last month, and that line stuck with me.

"Petruchio likes you, Kathryn those that do speak of me," Henriette says solemnly.

I giggle. Anastasie runs over and jumps on my back. "Freedom for Fants!"

Virginie shakes her head. "No, is Freedom for Pants!"

Henriette jumps up from my lap. "You're both wrong! The expression is, Freedom from Ants."

Alex walks over and gives me a hug. "Lafayette will bring you home, okay? Your father is going to explode if I don't get home soon."

Adrienne smiles. "Oui, my husband and I must be going as well. We do not want to miss the party."

Lafayette looks to me. "Kathryn, the dinner is in the oven. The girls go to bed at eight, but we should be home by seven thirty. Don't let Stasie have anything with cashews in it, and don't let the girls watch more than twenty minutes of television. We'll be home soon, girls!"

With that, the door closes, and I'm on my own.

Instant chaos. Stasie leaps onto the couch and starts jumping, shrieking about fants and France and ants and pants. Henriette tries to pull her off, and Virginie runs around and starts throwing things.

"Girls-" My voice is cut off by a shriek of, "Rants!"

"No, no, no!" Henriette has a pillow in her hands, and she throws it at Virginie. "We should play the dragon game!"

"I don't want to play your game!" Apparently, Stasie is in a rebellious phase. Her hopping sends a glass orb flying off the coffee table, and it hits Virginie on the forehead. Luckily, it doesn't smash, but unluckily, she starts to cry.

"ENOUGH!" My voice comes out in a bark that silences all three girls. In the silence, I survey the room. There are couch cushions everywhere, Virginie is crying and holding her face, and the other two are both red-faced and furious. "Do you want to know what we are going to do?"

Henriette nods. "Please."

"We're going to clean up this mess, first of all. I'm going to get some ice for Gin's head, and you two are going to apologize to each other for yelling. Then we'll have some dinner and I'll read you a book, or we can play a game." I pick up Virginie, feeling good and confident and in charge.

Fifteen minutes later, the living room is as clean as it was when I arrived. Virginie has an ice pack shaped like Hello Kitty held against her forehead, Henriette has the last page of her book returned to her, and Anastasie is drawing quietly. I reach into the oven, with pot holders, and pull out a tray of grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Who's hungry?" I grin, gesturing with the tray. Anastasie claps her hands excitedly, and Virginie takes her thumb out of her mouth long enough to smile.

"What are we going to do after dinner?" Henriette asks, playing with her plate of apple slices and potato chips.

"Well, have you ever heard of ballet?" I use a spatula to transfer the sandwiches.

"Ball-ay?" Anastasie tries to pronounce the foreign word.

"Yes, ball-ay. It's a kind of dancing that I like to do, and I thought maybe I could teach you." I supress a giggle.

Virginie jumps from the table and runs upstairs, returning a moment later with a giant puff of tulle. "I have a dudu for ball-ay!"

I can't keep it back this time, and snort with laughter. "It's called a tutu, honey."

"No! It's a dudu!" Virginie holds the pink poof above her head.

So, after dinner, I queue up some Tchaikovsky on my phone and kick my sneakers off. I wore dance socks today, so I can flex and stand more easily. "Okay, ladies, first thing you need to learn is first position..."

As I run through positions and basic steps, I feel swept away. I love dancing so much, and getting to share my love of it with the girls makes me incredibly happy. I put together a simple routine with them by the time Lafayette and Adrienne have returned home.

"Bon soir, meis cheries," Lafayette calls, sweeping in. Adrienne giggles, holding his arm. He kneels in front of the little girls and hugs Virginie. "What do we have here?"

"Ball-ay!" Virginie takes her thumb out of her mouth and pokes him with it.

"I've been teaching them some basic ballet. We put together a little dance for you." I tap my phone screen, and my favorite Swan Lake piece begins to play. The little girls, all in tutus and big bows, begin to spin in circles and wave their arms. They're off-time and out of sync and Anastasie falls over halfway through the performance.

You know something, though? It's the best performance I've ever seen.