I.
I woke up for school about an hour early.
That was weird because I usually hit the snooze about a zillion times before dragging myself out of bed. Of course, at that point "weird" was becoming increasingly relative.
I had snuck back into my house around eleven. I wasn't tired, and I did, in fact have a calculus test in the morning. I broke out my textbook and started reviewing the first chapters. It seemed, I don't know, "easy". By three in the morning I'd reached the end of the textbook -- and I remembered it all. I understood everything in the text. All of it. I had learned all of AP Calculus -- from a book -- in four -- four mother-fucking -- hours.
Now I was awake. I'd slept -- maybe three hours -- and now I felt completely rested. It was like I'd slept a full night. I showered and got ready for school. I really thought I looked funny in my school uniform. It was pretty standard -- grey blazer, white oxford that I unbuttoned as far down as I thought I could get away with, maroon pleated skirt, grey socks, and giant size-13 black Mary Janes. The only probably "non-standard" part was the skirt was, technically, too short. I was just too tall and too long in the thighs. No skirt that fit met the length criteria. I was getting rung up on it since I was Millie's age in the lower school. I guess eventually the teachers just gave up. I thought I looked like a parody version of a giant schoolgirl. But, judging from the uncomfortable ogles I got from older guys, there was something to this look.
I met Millie downstairs. She was eating a bowl of cereal and had on the miniature version of my outfit except no blazer. While Dad read his morning paper. I mussed up her hair as I sat down and grabbed a banana, "Mornin', MilliBear -- did you sleep well?"
She looked at me without expression. "I went to bed my normal time," she started, "And work up after about three hours." She ate a spoonful of cereal and leaned into me so Dad wouldn't hear her. "I need to show you something right now," She whispered. She got up, grabbed a bottle of juice and pack of Pop Tarts, and gestured for me to follow her. She went out the back door and toward the treehouse. I followed and was seriously worried what I was going to find out there.
It was worse than I thought, but it this was going to have to be addressed at some point. On the couch in the treehouse, covered with a blanket and asleep was a bound and gagged Milton.
"He showed up here last night around ten," Mille explained, "He was yelling for you from the backyard. I ran down to tell him to shut up before he woke Dad." My father always went to bed early. Mille continued, "He was super-upset with you about something. I told him you weren't here, but he didn't believe me." Mille got very quiet suddenly, then went on, "He said you attacked him, but it seemed like you had lost your mind and were out of control."
He wasn't wrong about that assessment, I thought.
Mille went on, "I told him he had to leave, but he wouldn't listen. He was convinced you had some sort of psychotic break -- I had to look that up." She paused as though I wouldn't believe what she said next, I did, "Midge, I ended up reading one of Mom's old psychology textbooks -- all of it -- in about two hours. I can tell you everything in there, but that was after."
"After what, Mills?" I asked.
"Milton wouldn't leave. He was so worried about you. He insisted on coming in and talking to Dad and getting the police to go look for you. That didn't not sound like a good idea," She explained.
Oh no, I thought. "Millie, what did you do?" I asked.
"I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen," She explained, "So I grabbed him."
"You grabbed him?" Oh, God.
"I grabbed him," she said, "I dragged him out here. He wouldn't stop fighting me. When we got to the tree, I got irritated, and threw him into the trunk. Hard. I guess I knocked him out. I brought him up here. I tied him up and put him on the couch. I figured you'd know what to do in the morning."
"Jesus, Mills!" I was being hard on her.
"I thought about doing it with him while he was out." She added.
"Millicent!"
"I didn't. I almost did, but I stopped myself." She said defensively.
Ok, I was, in context being way too hard on her. "Go get ready for school, I'll deal with this." I ordered. Millie nodded, left the juice and Pop Tarts, and went to do as I said.
II.
After Millie left, I removed Milton's gag and untied him. I gave him a tap on the shoulder, "Milton, wake up," I said. I gave him a gentle shake and he came around with a start. "It's okay -- you're safe," Was he? It didn't seem that way, but it sounded good.