HELPER12 Jack Blaine (best time to read books .TXT) 📖

the fact that he is so upset.  For just a moment, I consider going in, trying to comfort him somehow.  But it’s not safe.  I don’t know him; I don’t know anything about him except that he feels entitled to order me around.  That’s natural, of course, since he is Society and I am a Helper, but that means he isn’t someone I can ever trust.

I creep back up the stairs and check on Jobee.  As soon as I’m satisfied that he is still sleeping peacefully, I get back into my own bed, and hold the pillow over my ears.

Chapter Thirteen

I don’t see Thomas the next day.  At lunch, I risk asking Helper where he is; she eyes me as though I’ve asked if I can wear Ms. Sloane’s negligees while she’s gone.

“What do you care about where Mr. Thomas goes?”  Helper glares.

I shrug.  “I just wondered if he was expected back for dinner, or if I should eat here.”

“Ah, he’ll be back well before dinner.  The Driver takes a bite of his biscuit—Helper does make excellent biscuits.  “I drove him to the Public Information Center.  He probably had to do some sort of work for a school project.  But he told me to pick him up in two hours.”

“What do you mean, school project?”  Helper’s nose crinkles up like she smells something rotten.

The Driver shrugs.  “What do you mean?”

“He was expelled, you said.  From school.”

The Driver takes another bite.  He chews some.  He shrugs again.

“I don’t know why he went there.  I don’t care.  And neither should you.”  He waves a finger at her.

“Humph!’  Helper springs up and starts clearing the table.

“I’m not done!”  The Driver tries to grab a biscuit from the plate Helper is taking away.

“You are now,” Helper snaps.

And just like that, lunch is over.

I spend the rest of the day showing Jobee the letters of the alphabet carved onto the set of real wooden blocks Ms. Sloan bought.  I don’t even know if this is the right time for that sort of thing.  Jobee seems to prefer the bright pictures in the books that the Sloanes have stocked on his bookshelf.  I wonder if I could ask the Driver to take me to the Public Information Center, so I could find out what I should be teaching Jobee right now.  He’s already weeks older than my training covered.  I worry that if I show my ignorance, the Sloanes will get rid of me.  That could be a very bad thing, given the fact that I have no legal status now.

When the Director sold me to the Sloanes, he made me disappear in the world. He reported me missing, as though I simply didn’t show up for my shift.  The police looked for me for a while.  I’m sure they interviewed Kris, and searched my cubicle.  But as long as they didn’t find any evidence that I had willingly neglected my assignment, they’ll assume I was killed or kidnapped for some sort of slave trade.  They don’t look too hard for nobodies.  What that means is that the Sloanes can do whatever they want with me.  If I don’t meet their needs, I imagine they’ll want to recoup some of their costs; I’m sure the Director didn’t sell me cheap.  So they might sell me, too, to someone worse than a family of Society members.

I don’t think my duties would include anything I want to think about.  So I really need to know what it takes to make sure Jobee grows happy and healthy, with no problems the Sloanes can complain about.

At dinner, Thomas is already seated at the table when I get there with Jobee.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say, rushing to get Jobee settled in his chair.  He was fussy after his bath, and getting him dressed took more time than it usually does.

“That’s fine,” says Thomas.  “Is everything all right?”

I nod.

Helper bustles in with the covered dishes, and announces that we are having trout.  She starts to serve, like she does when the Sloanes are here, but Thomas thanks her in that way that means leave.  When she’s gone, he rises, and serves me my food again, like he had the first night.

“Should I be doing that for you?”  I really wonder, and the question is tumbling out before I can stop it.

“Why should you?”

“Because I’m the . . . Helper, here.  You’re a Society member.”

He rolls his eyes.  “You’re a guest in my home.  Polite behavior dictates that I serve you.”

I don’t say anything.

“How’s William today?”

At first I don’t know who he means; with the Sloanes gone I haven’t been constantly hearing that name come out of Ms. Sloane’s mouth, and I think of Jobee as, well, as Jobee.

“He’s well.  He was a little fussy after his bath so we were late.”

“What was wrong?”

I chance it.

“I think it was nothing really, but I would love to know more than I do, about Jo—about William’s developmental stages.”

“You’re a Baby Helper.”  Thomas looks surprised.  “How much more could you possibly want to know?’

“I’m a Pre Ward Baby Helper.  My knowledge of development after six months if age is . . . more generalized.”  I hurry, before he can interrupt me.  “I’d like permission to go to the Public Information Center.  I think I could find out a lot there, that would help me properly raise William.”

Thomas shrugs. “We can go tomorrow.  I’ll make sure Driver is available.”

“Oh!”  I hadn’t thought he would be coming too. “I know you just went there today.  I wouldn’t want to trouble you.  If the Driver—”

“You can’t research and hold a baby, and Driver certainly isn’t going to.”  Thomas grinned.  “He’s pretty fussy himself, about exactly what his duties entail.  I don’t think he would accept baby-sitter as one of them.  I’ll go.  That way you can focus on getting the information you need, and I can get to know William a bit better.”

He seems to be sure the matter is settled, and there’s not