“I can’t remember. I have them written down in my notebook.” The wail inched back into her voice. “If I don’t get a hundred, I don’t get to play on the computer at free time.”

“So get the notebook out.”

This, as he should have known, caused more complaints.

“You’re stepping all over my shoes. You’re getting them dirty. Kayla, I’m going to—”

“I don’t want to hear about those shoes, Blondie.” The twitch was back, double time. “Not a word about the shoes.”

“Here are my words.” Triumphant, Kayla waved the notebook, conking him on the head in her enthusiasm.

“Well, study them or something.”

“No, Ali reads them, and I spell them. And I have to use each one in a sentence.”

“I don’t want to read them.”

Michael sent Ali a narrow look. “Want to walk?”

“Oh, all right.” With little grace, she snatched the notebook. “They’re just baby words.”

“They are not. You’re just mad because Tod likes Marcie better than you.”

“He does not. And I don’t care anyway. And you didn’t learn your words because you were too busy drawing dumb pictures.”

“They are not dumb. You’re dumb because—”

“Cut it out. Right now. If I have to stop this car . . .” Appalled, he trailed off. Had he just said what he thought he’d said? Dear Christ. He was forced to take several calming breaths. “Allison, just read the words.”

“I’m going to.” She sniffed, peered down her nose at Kayla’s carefully written list. “Committed.”

“C-o-m-m-i-t-t-e-d.” She parroted the letters, then bit her lip. She fumbled for the sentence, looked hopefully at Michael.

“Michael Fury, innocently volunteering to drive two young girls to school, has now been committed to an institution for the permanently insane.”

It made Ali laugh. “He’s just being silly.”

“Don’t bet on it, kid.” But he racked his brain to come up with an alternative. “The witness pointed accusingly at the man who had committed the crime. How’s that?”

“Okay.”

They ran through the rest, with Michael nearly cross-eyed by the time he pulled through the gates of the academy. His ancient Porsche merged with shining Mercedes, sedate Lincolns, and snappy four-wheel-drives.

“Scram,” he said, unhooking the seat belt. “I’m late.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘Have a good day,’ ” Kayla reminded him.

“Yeah? Well, have one, then. Later.”

“Michael.” She rolled her eyes. “Now kiss us good-bye.” She pursed her lips, planted one on him.

Amused, he peered over at Ali. “Ali doesn’t want to kiss me. She’s still mad at me.”

“I am not.” She sniffed, then graciously leaned over Kayla and touched her lips to his cheek. “Thank you for driving us to school.”

“It was my . . . education,” he told her, then watched them scurry up the granite steps with hordes of other children.