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Sometimes, Trucy really doesn’t understand her new daddy. Like right now.
“Wha-What? Trucy? Why are you still up? I thought you went to bed hours ago.” He looks so confused that it makes her giggle.
“Wasn’t tired,” she answers. She jumps up from where she’d been sitting on the couch, holding cards out to her daddy. “Pick a card!”
He reaches out for one of the cards then stops, shaking his head. “Trucy, it’s-” He looks over at the clock, frowning as he turns back to her. “10:35 at night. You’re supposed to be asleep, your bedtime was at 8.” Trucy has to strain to hear him mutter to himself ‘That’s a good bedtime, right? I don’t think you’re supposed to let eight-year-olds stay up late.’
Her frown matches his, pulling the cards back and holding them close to her chest. “I didn’t have a bedtime before.” Her old daddy was usually up late preparing for magic shows, so there was no way to enforce a bedtime, though she was usually asleep by the time he got back. If she didn’t need a bedtime then, why does she need one now?
Her daddy seems taken aback for a moment before shaking his head, giving her a lopsided smile and gesturing towards her room. “You’ve got school tomorrow. If you don’t go to bed now, then you’ll end up falling asleep in class. And I know you have a spelling test tomorrow.” He’s got that voice, the one he uses when yelling ‘objection’ or ‘hold it’. He doesn’t use the voice often, usually looking upset when he realizes what he said, but he doesn’t look that way tonight, perhaps too tired to realize.
Trucy looks down at her cards, still unsure. Yeah, she has a test tomorrow, but she studied and what does it matter if she’s a bit tired? But then her daddy speaks up again, “And if you get into bed right now, I’ll read a story and tuck you in.”
She’s running to her room before he even gets done talking.
“TRUCY!”
Trucy startles at the panicked cry, dropping the throwing knife that she’d been holding onto the floor. Her daddy’s eyes are wide as he picks up the knife, breathing heavily like he just ran a marathon instead of the ten feet between her and the door.
“Where did you get a knife?!”
The magician frowns, crossing her arms across her chest. “From my bag.”
He blinks at her, seemingly trying to wrap his head around what she said. It’s funny, sometimes her daddy catches onto things quickly, and other times he’s like this, extremely confused about something that should be obvious. “You had a knife in your bag?”
“Yep! With all my other tricks,” she answers. There’s an unsaid ‘duh’ at the end. She has a bunch of small magic props in her bag, like decks of cards and trick coins and Mr. Hat, so of course she has a knife too.
“Trucy, you’re eight.”
“And?”
“And you’re too young to be carrying a knife around!”
Trucy puffs her cheeks out like a little chipmunk, hands on her hips. “But I’m a professional! I’ve been using knives in my shows for over a year!”
Her daddy puts the knife down on a nearby coffee table and crouches down in front of her, though she’s still so short that she has to look up at him. Maybe one day she’ll get a growth spurt. “I know you’re a professional and that you know what you’re doing, but doing tricks with knives is going to give me a heart attack. So maybe we leave them out of your act?” It’s posed like a question, but Trucy knows it’s not. She doubts she’s getting her knife back, not with how her daddy reacted to her having it.
Trucy sighs, nodding. “Fine.” Then she strikes a pose, giving her daddy a smile she doesn’t quite feel. “I’ll just practice my other tricks then! And you can help me, daddy!” The knife tricks are out, but maybe she can convince him to get her one of those zigzag boxes.
Trucy watches her daddy bumble around the kitchen, trying to make waffles for breakfast. They always come out a bit burnt, because apparently her daddy is not very good at cooking, but she doesn't care. She especially doesn't care right now, when she's thinking about something completely different from what they're having for breakfast. "Daddy?"
"Mhm, yeah?"
"Can I go to work with you tonight?" He seems surprised by the question and turns away from the waffle iron to face her. Yep, they're definitely having burnt waffles today.
"My job's not that fun, Truce. Wouldn't it be more fun to stay here with Detective Gumshoe?"
She shakes her head furiously. She's heard her daddy talking about his job on the phone with Uncle Miles and Aunt Maya, and seen him practicing poker at home (and the piano, but her daddy is really, really bad at that). "No, I wanna help you!" His confusion is etched onto his face. She sighs, shaking her head again, but this time in mock despair. "With poker! I can help you with poker!"
The confusion isn't going away anytime soon, apparently. "What? You know poker?"
"Yep!"
"Did Zak teach you that?" Trucy nods, smiling up at him. The Troupe had played poker all the time and she'd often been there, sitting next to her old daddy as he taught her the rules of the game and the far more important ability of picking out when people were bluffing. Her old daddy had always said she was great at it, better than him even.
"So? Can I come?"
"Trucy..." The hesitation in his voice tells her that the answer is going to be 'no', so she puts on her best puppy dog eyes.
"Pleeeeeease?" Maybe he doesn't think she can actually help, that she'll just get in the way. He's never seen her play poker, after all, and most kids probably don't even know how the game works. But she's sure that together, he'd never lose. "I'll be quiet! I won't even show off Mr. Hat!" Which is a pretty big promise coming from her, since she loves showing off Mr. Hat. "And I'll be a big help!"
Her daddy still looks unsure, muttering under his breath something about 'what would most dads do here'. Trucy stares at him, trying to wait but the longer her daddy thinks the more she fidgets, pulling at the cape around her shoulders. Finally, finally, her daddy says, "Okay, you can come this one time."
"Really? Yay!"
"One time," he emphasizes, adding to himself, 'I don't think kids are usually allowed at the Borscht Bowl Club'. Trucy pouts for a second, before grinning widely up at him. She's sure he'll change his mind after he sees how good she is at poker. And if he doesn't, then she'll just use the puppy dog eyes again until he does. But, in the meantime-
"Uh, daddy? The waffles are smoking."
“Trucy’s a delight to have in class, but I did want to talk to you about one thing, Mr. Wright.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nothing serious!”
Trucy listens from outside the classroom as Mr. Alec Chur talks with her dad, arms crossed and pouting.
Her teacher continues. “Today in class, Trucy pulled out a… life-sized puppet.” His name’s Mr. Hat , Trucy mutters to herself, quietly enough that her dad and teacher can’t hear her despite the classroom door being open. “It distracted the kids and one of them was completely terrified by it. I know she likes magic tricks, but, um, I believe it would be better for her to leave the puppet at home.”
They talk for a few more minutes, Trucy’s pout growing deeper. She hadn’t meant to scare the kid - she’d even made up for it during recess by pulling a coin from behind his ear - and all the other kids had loved Mr. Hat.
Her daddy walks out of the classroom, immediately extending a hand to her. “Ready to go home, Trucy?” She nods and grabs his hand, though the pout doesn’t leave her face. They leave the school and start on the way home, quiet falling over them for the first few minutes. It’d be a comfortable silence if Trucy wasn’t wondering about her daddy’s conversation with her teacher. Does he agree with her teacher? Is she not going to be allowed to bring Mr. Hat with her anymore?
“Trucy? You heard me talking with Mr. Chur, right?” her daddy asks, looking down at her.
“I didn’t do anything! Simon wasn’t even that scared of Mr. Hat!”
“I know, I know! You’re not in trouble and Mr. Chur isn’t angry. He just… thinks Mr. Hat shouldn’t be in class.”
“That’s not fair!” She’d always been allowed to bring Mr. Hat at her old school. “He’s my best trick and part of my troupe! He’s supposed to go everywhere I do!” What type of magician would she be without her #1 trick?
Her daddy looks down at her, and she thinks he looks like he’s realized something, but she has no idea what. And she doesn’t really care, upset as she is about Mr. Hat being banned from school. “I know you like having Mr. Hat with you, Trucy, but-” He rubs at the stubble on his chin. “-You know, it’s pretty quiet at home while you’re at school. Maybe Mr. Hat can keep me company? He could tell me all his knock-knock jokes!”
She frowns, thinking it over. Mr. Hat won’t be able to tell him any jokes without her around, and she’s sure her daddy knows that, but… if he wouldn’t feel as alone while she’s gone, then she supposes it’s an okay compromise. “Okay! Mr. Hat will stay with you!”
Her daddy smiles at her. “Thanks, Trucy. And Mr. Chur said you can still bring your other tricks, just don’t show them off during class.”
“Good! Because I promised I’d do a magic show during recess and I can’t do that if I don’t have anything. Too bad Mr. Hat will miss it.” Trucy talks about her plans for the little magic show for the rest of the walk home.
Trucy sits down at the kitchen table, across from her daddy. She has to sit on her knees to actually look over the table, otherwise she’d be eye level with the underside of the table.
Her daddy had called her over and for a moment she wonders if she’s in trouble, but she can’t think of anything that he could be upset about. And he certainly doesn’t look upset, the smile he gives her setting her at ease.
“We have to talk about the house rules” Oh. Well, that’s not fun. She’d been hoping for a poker game or a magic trick or something. “We probably should have talked about them a while ago.” He crosses his arms on the table and looks her in the eye, something she appreciates. A lot of adults just talk down to her. Her daddy doesn’t. “There has to be rules, but I know this is really different from how it was with the troupe. So I was thinking that we could come up with the rules together.”
She blinks at her daddy, tilting her head to the side. She gets a say in the rules? “So we’re haggling about the rules?”
“Um, I guess. That’s one way to describe it.” An idea comes to mind and Trucy smiles, moving to speak, but her daddy cuts her off, pointing a finger at her. “Except the knife rule! You can use knives in your tricks when you’re fifteen.”
“Ten.”
“Fourteen.”
“Eleven.”
“Twelve, and that’s my final offer.”
Trucy looks off to the side, thinking about it for a second before nodding. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Wright,” she says, trying to sound like some serious business woman. She doesn’t think she succeeds, given how her daddy is obviously biting back laughter. “But okay, daddy! Deal!” She holds her hand out, and now he actually is chuckling, but he still shakes her hand.
“Alright. One rule down. Now, about your bedtime-”