Her Father's guest seemed nice enough, the old guy - well, that applied to anyone over thirty. Doyle...somebody, Meggie didn't catch his sirname -

not that she particularly cared.  The two men were in the livingroom, discussing something.  While eavesdropping - let alone, interrupting was ... well, that just wasn't done.  Meggie, returning from the kitchen with a cake pan filled with 'getti and lots of meatballs, heard her Father say something about "...had to be legal, or no deal!"  She went back into the kitchen for the small bowl of "rabbit food."  That was, basically, a ... she paused, trying to recall a word she'd heard in global lit class.  Pa, a pejorative.  In her other hand, was serving trench, filled with warm garlic bread.  Another phrase, coming from the living room, had something to do with "insurance."

The gears in her brain began turning.  Doyle, whomever, was some guy who knew about vehicle insurance - made sense, since there has to be changes, when ya turn eighteen.  Well, she concluded, with that out of the way, she had more important things to ponder about.  Problem #6...yikes, and there were some ten, or was it twelve? more.  Either way, they had to be worked out in time for tomorrow's math class - sheesh, Tritch sure ran roughshod over us kids.

As the two men made their way to the table, Meggie felt, once again, something wasn't adding up.  Normally, Father didn't much bother to introduce/acknowledge Meggie's being at the same table.  This time, was different.  She shook the old guy's hand; he had kind eyes - that said alot.  That meant, the policy would be for real, not one of those...cheesy-cheesy, cheap ones - the kind, that if you cause the other driver, so much as a nick, you get bent over - ugh!  During the meal, they talked about ... oh, here's no surprise, politics, what the pres-elect was planning to do.  No-surprise, number two: both men had voted for him.  Doyle then, went on to describe an incident during one of the local riots.  

Great, her headspace grumbled, now Father would definitely NOT let her get that saturday job, over at ... well, it didn't really matter.   Seriously, Meggie's mind ruminated, when would Father finally let up?  When she hit FORTY??  "HERE, sign this!"  Meggie's Father inched a form in her direction.  She inched her chair forward, to look at the document, mostly covered by, not only, another page - with had some kind of company logo running along the top - but part of the doc had found it's way underneath the bread trench.

With pen in hand, she paused, a moment - always read, before you sign anything, that's what her consumer ed teacher stressed in class.

"THA-WONK!"  Oh, what the heck was that?  It came from the kitchen.  As if Meggie didn't have enough on her plate.  While, when making suppers, for Father and her - and whomever else, might show up - she kept ahead with the dirty dishes.  Tonight, with three people, there'd be more - and she had those math problems.

She quickly, but neatly, signed the document, then, just as quick, went into the kitchen.  Whatever the source of that loud noise,  she hadn't a clue.  The men returned to the livingroom, and spoke awhile longer.  Meggie cleared the table and began washing and stacking the dishes.  The kitchen, being rather crampy, counterspace was wanting.  So, as soon as the smallish rack was full - which didn't take too ling - she began drying, and putting away.  

From the other room, Doyle was getting ready to head out.  She heard both make some sort of plans, for 3 pm sunday.  It was after nine, when she put away the last dish.  Ascending the steps, where the math assignment awaited her wavering attention span, a thought pin-pricked her tiring mind.  Something...eh, a bit on the sly about that document she'd put her sig to.  Oh well, too late now!  Also, the two men had discussed ... some sort of price.  Well, whatever the amount both had agreed, seemed rather high for driver's insurance - wasn't like she'd been in any accidents, or got any tickets...have to be allowed to go places, for that.  Anyway, you don't ask questions, it's not done.

It was going on midnight, before Meggie had completed most the problems.  Frankly, she was bushed.  Meggie went to sleep, totally clueless, concerning what sunday would bring.