Trouble Child

Too often do we look at someone and never see who they truly are

I'd never really liked Greg, even though he was one of my daughter's best friends since second grade. He came with baggage. His parents had split when he was nine, and he hadn't taken it well. He was already a little hoodlum by the time he was eleven, sporting a ratty denim jacket and torn jeans. And he was too dumb or too young to know that chewing all the wintergreen Life Savers in the world didn't counteract the smell of cigarette smoke in his clothing.

By his sophomore year, it was "known" in the neighborhood that Greg was going somewhere eventually—jail. He had never had a run-in with the law, nor was he a trouble-maker at school. We all just "knew" he was bad news. Every time he came home with Samantha, I'd think: "Here comes trouble!"

The shameful thing is that Greg never did bring trouble with him. But in his sophomore year, when he was sixteen (he had been held back in third grade), he showed us all that he was ready for it.

Samantha had conned us into letting Greg stay for dinner, and we were cleaning up the dishes as Sam and Greg were washing off the table. I heard a weird garbling sound, and when I turned to look, I saw baby Allie with a pop-eyed purple face grunting helplessly, struggling for air.

Before I could even begin to move across the kitchen, Greg plucked Allie from her highchair like a pro, turned her over, and got a small potato chunk dislodged from her throat. Then he held her on his hip like she belonged there, soothing her till she stopped crying.

Since then, I've been certain Greg is going somewhere, eventually—Greg's going to run the daycare center in Heaven.

NOTES: ▼

Word Count: 298
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "Here comes trouble"