Katie's Hellion

"Four."

"Taking a sleeping aid and driving before eight hours has passed means you're driving while under the influence of a medication."

She rested her head against the steering wheel, frustration making her veins swell. Her headache worsened.

"I have you for reckless endangerment, driving while under the influence, driving an impaired motorized vehicle while dark, and speeding," he summarized, handing her one ticket for each crime. He waited, as if she'd reveal enough dirt to make his monthly quota then added, "They'll probably suspend your license. You'll have to report to court tomorrow morning."

"Sounds wonderful," she managed.

"God bless."

She rolled up her window, watched him return to his car, and cursed.

She beat the rush onto the metro and took up a comfortable position on the aisle side of the commuter train, book in one hand and purse in the other. The train lurched forward, the gentle hum of electricity soon pushing her into a near-doze, until the train lurched to a halt. As usual, the next stop filled the train, and she looked with some irritation at a five-year-old who shoved by her legs to stand next to the window beside her.

He was dressed in worn clothing and shoes and flattened his palms against the window, as if he'd never been on a train before. He turned to her twice and pointed out the window as the scenery whizzed, but she ignored him, reading instead.

Four stops later, she rose and tucked the book away, wading through the throngs of people to the door as the train slowed.

"Mama!"

The cry startled those around her, and she glanced back at the kid, who stared in her direction.

"Lady, that your kid?" someone asked as she stepped toward the door.

"Oh, hell no," she said with a smile.

The kid began crying and she waited, ticking off her mental to-do list to see where she'd start. First off, request the morning off to go to court tomorrow. Second, find out when the general manager of the fast food joint where she worked was returning from maternity leave. Third, call her snotty sister and find a way to back out of brunch Saturday. Fourth -"Ma'am, your kid," a woman said, taking her arm and pointing with a look of such judgment that Katie reddened despite herself.

"Not mine," she said.

The kid was crying and began tugging on her coat. He spoke in tear-filled gibberish she didn't understand, and she moved away to the door. She was one of the first off the train while the kid wailed and several people around her muttered.