Chapter 5

  As October passed, that conversation stuck in my head. The days were getting shorter, and the mornings were growing colder and darker. But the runs kept us warm, and we only skipped when the weather was truly horrible. One thing that helped was Taylor’s progress. Our pace was increasing day by day, and we had to slow down later and later in the run.

  And, according to Jared, that damn pregnancy rumor was slowly dying out.

  Sometimes, after school, we would go to the public library and work on homework when the assignments grew lengthier. I always insisted on walking Taylor home afterwards. She didn’t seem to mind, and I was reluctant to return to the Landry’s house.

  And that damn conversation with her father kept popping up in my thoughts.

  As I was walking home one evening near Halloween, I realized how unbalanced my emotions were. I could easily see my feelings for Taylor develop into something more than friendship. Something like what Karen and I had been fumbling toward before we were both killed.

  But there was a hell of a lot of things that needed to be resolved first. I hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about my past, and I acknowledged that I had some large Karen-shaped baggage to unpack.

  No, that wasn’t fair to Karen. She was more than just baggage. I had some regrets that ate at me but also taught me some valuable lessons. At the same time, Taylor deserved to know everything going in or it wasn’t fair to her. Any relationship built on lies, even simple lies of omission, was ultimately doomed.

  On the other hand, my story was weird enough to be unbelievable. Dimensional travel was a serious crime on Earth-Aleph, no matter that I had no idea how I’d managed it. Let alone the change I went through fighting Sen Arashi. If I could still do that. And if I could, would I be able to change back?

  Assuming, of course, that she was even interested in anything more than simple friendship with me. I also needed to make sure that she understood that I wouldn’t abandon her if she turned me down.

  Maybe it would just be better to keep my damn mouth shut.

  Unsurprisingly, I was in a pretty foul mood by the time I arrived home. Too many questions, not enough answers.

  O*O*O

  The next day, Taylor of course picked up on my tension. To her credit, she didn’t say anything during our morning run, nor did she ask while her dad was around. In the relative anonymity of the city bus heading for Winslow, she quietly leaned in toward me and whispered, “Is everything okay?”

  I turned to look at her. Behind the glasses, her brown eyes looked concerned and a little worried. “Yeah,” I said after a moment. “Just thinking about some things that are bothering me.”

  She nodded silently.

  “Nothing you’ve done,” I quickly reassured her. “You’re about the only person that never annoys me,” I joked. I reached over and patted her forearm in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. I could feel the heat of her skin through the jacket sleeve. It took me a moment to pull my hand back.

  “By the way,” I asked, trying to distract myself, “when is your birthday?”

  “June twelfth,” she replied. “When is yours?”

  “Guess I missed your birthday this year,” I said. “I think mine is sometime in the summer. Maybe we should count the day I washed up in the bay?”

  Taylor frowned a little but nodded. “What brought up birthdays?”

  I shrugged. “Looking for an excuse to get you a prepaid phone, you know, for emergencies and such – so we aren’t dependent on landlines.”

  By the way Taylor went pale, you would think I’d proposed selling her to Lung. “We don’t do cellphones,” she said quietly.

  “Okay. I’m thinking there is a story there. You don’t have to share it unless or until you are ready,” I murmured back. “But if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

  Taylor nodded, squeezing her eyes together. I put my hand over hers and gave it a deliberate squeeze.

  We were quiet all the way to Winslow.

  All day at school, Taylor seemed quiet and preoccupied. I stepped up my wariness to compensate and we avoided the normal hazards. When I walked her home, she surprised me by asking me to come inside. While I wasn’t necessarily forbidden to be alone with her in the house, I knew her father wouldn’t be too cool with it. But her quiet had unsettled me all day, so I wasn’t about to stop her if she wanted to talk it out now.

  Taylor sat me down on the living room couch and told me about her mother, Annette Hebert.

  Annette was a college English professor and, by all accounts, the glue that held the family together. In a way, it was hard for me to relate. My pseudo-mother, Elise, took off when I was five years old. When I told her I loved her and begged her to stay, she simply told me she didn’t love me. That was the last time I spoke those words to anyone. So, Taylor’s descriptions of growing up with a loving mother were something I couldn’t really relate to.

  But it still hurt, deep inside.

  Annette being the glue that held the family together was no more apparent than in how things fell apart after she was gone. She died in a car accident, one apparently caused by her being distracted by her cell phone.

  The light finally dawned.

  I wrapped an arm around Taylor’s shoulders as her voice trailed off. “Now I understand why this would be a touchy subject,” I murmured. “I’d like you to have one for emergencies or 911 calls, but I can understand why your father forbids them.”

  I just hoped this never came back and bit us on the ass.

  O*O*O

  As October came to a close, I wondered about Halloween. The PRT made bank on costumes for children, but no one really marketed the outfits for teenagers or older, even the Protectorate or The Guild. Maybe they were worried about civilians being mistaken for heroes? That could potentially get very ugly if there was an incident, I suppose.

  And while Brockton Bay was rough overall, it never developed any nasty traditions around the holiday like Devil’s Night in Detroit.

  To my surprise, my foster family, the Landrys, voluntold Jared and I to hand out candy the night of Halloween to any trick or treaters that came by. Given how, ah, frugal they were with their money, I was a bit surprised. But then I realized that a lot of their neighbors had children, so it was probably a status thing. The fact that they purchased basic costumes for the two youngest and were taking them around the neighborhood only confirmed this.

  Jared and I switched off getting up and answering the door that night for a couple of hours until they returned. It was pretty boring, especially when it grew longer and longer between knocks, so we talked amongst ourselves.

  “So, how are you and your girlfriend doing?” he asked near the end of the night.

  I frowned. “Taylor’s just my friend,” I replied.

  “Hey,” he said, spreading his hands placatingly, “I only told you that rumor, so you’d know. Not that I believed you knocked her up. But seriously, you aren’t even dating? No one believes that bro.”

  “And why not?” I asked.

  “Everyone’s heard about the way you are protecting her, man. If you were white-knighting her any harder, you’d have to bleach your hair.”

  “What I saw going on was disgusting. I’d have an issue with people harassing anyone like that; it’s screwed up,” I said scowling. “We’ve gotten to be friends now, turns out she’s pretty cool, and wicked smart.”

  “All that and you are just friends?” Jared asked.

  “Yes. We are just friends.”

  “For now?” Jared asked, this time with a smirk.

  I started to deny out of reflex and paused.

  “Okay, I get it,” Jared said with a teasing smile. “You are still working on it. What’s the hold up?”

  I took a deep breath to organize my thoughts. “Okay, we got the whole amnesia thing with me. No idea where I came from or how I ended up in the bay.”

  Jared sobered. “I guess that would be an issue,” he allowed.

  “I also really don’t want to screw this up by rushing,” I admitted.

  “Ah, slow and steady wins the race, then. I get it. Don’t worry, I don’t talk crap about other people’s business.”

  “Then why all the curiosity?”

  “There’s a small betting pool. I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss out on picking ‘He’s actually in the closet’.”

  “Seniors are assholes,” I snarked back.

  “You just now figuring that out?” Jared asked with a laugh.

  O*O*O

  The weather turned bitter as November rolled around. The cold didn’t really bother me much, but Taylor had to add more layers to stay warm during our morning runs. I brought up running after school, but Taylor demurred. I guess she liked the quiet early in the morning. But I made a point of keeping an eye on her when we ran through the dark and chilly air. Hypothermia and frostbite are no joke. We started going inside for our cool-downs to the relatively warm living room.

  One morning while Taylor was showering, Mr. Hebert went into the closet and dug out an old green parka and presented it to me. “You aren’t wearing enough for this cold,” he said.

  I blinked in surprise. “Uh, thank you, I appreciate it. But I’m okay as long as I keep moving.”

  He frowned at me, then quirked up an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

  I nodded. “I have a metabolism like a blast furnace; I don’t get cold easily.”

  “The buses are only going to get colder,” he advised. “The heaters can’t keep up. And Taylor worries about you.”

  “Ah,” I said. Knowing Taylor, she would indeed worry about me getting sick. “Then all I can say is thank you.” I added, accepting the bundle. While worn, it would definitely be warmer than my hoodie. I tried it on for a moment, feeling a little awkward. It was clearly one of Mr. Hebert’s – tall as he was, we had similar builds and it fit comfortably.

  “So,” he said conversationally as he began cooking breakfast. “Your foster parents must have fun keeping that furnace stoked.”

  “Not so much,” I said as I set the table. “Dollar store mac and cheese is my friend.”

  Mr. Hebert turned to look at me, still mixing the eggs in a bowl with a splash of milk.

  “They’d be operating at a loss if they tried to fully feed me, so I use some money from my job to stash some cheap pasta boxes in my room,” I explained. I was probably giving too much detail, but I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. He was important to Taylor, and he’d been pretty generous with me.

  “Job?” he asked curiously. “Where do you work?”

  “I worked full time over the summer for the public library,” I said. “I may cover some holiday shifts for the regulars over the winter break.”

  “But you don’t work during the school year?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t know how well I’d be able to balance my time, and I wanted to make sure I did well. I don’t really have any safety net, so failure isn’t an option.”

  Danny Hebert peered at me for a moment, then nodded. Did I just pass a test of some sort?

  Anyways, we ate in silence and then Taylor came down to let me know the shower was free. I washed my dishes and the hot pan and then headed up.

  Later, as we prepared to leave, she noticed me slipping on the parka and beamed at her father. I gave him a nod as well as we all left the house for work and school.

  The parka was, in fact, a lot warmer.

  I made sure to thank Taylor once we were on the bus; she blushed even as she smiled.

  It was a good look for her.

  O*O*O

  As November wore on, I became more and more grateful for the gifted parka. It steadily got colder and colder each morning and while my exposed skin wasn’t particularly bothered, I realized exactly how much I would stand out without it. Don’t get me wrong, I was aware it was bitterly cold, but after a certain point awareness never graduated into actual pain or cramping. My blood always seemed sufficient to keep me warm.

  But I was also clearly in the minority. Even the few joggers we saw on our return legs in the mornings first bundled up and then disappeared. Maybe they had access to an indoor track. Maybe they decided to give up running until it got warmer – or at least not running that early.

  Taylor just kept adding layers and slowly sped up. I was very impressed. She wasn’t a freak of nature like me, so it had to be uncomfortable with all those layers. She took to wearing a balaclava underneath her glasses, with the arms connected behind her head with a stretchy strap, like goggles.

  Taylor also wore her balaclava into the bathroom for her shower. She categorically refused to let me see her hair after it had been trapped under it for any period of time.

  I smiled to realize that she had one physical feature she was proud of. I generally understood that a lot of women were overly critical of their own appearances. However, from comments she has made, I think Taylor took it to a whole new level. The bullying primates probably didn’t help at all.

  Of course, I thought it was all hogwash – I hadn’t lied to her dad, I really do think she is beautiful. But as I researched on the computers in the library, I also came to realize that my opinion doesn’t really count if she has self-esteem issues. It wasn’t like I could convince her otherwise. She would likely think I was just being kind or some crap like that.

  I was also grateful that the internet in 2010 was a lot more developed than it was in 90’s Glenridge – especially when it came to researching the weather patterns on Planet Girl.

  O*O*O

  Danny Hebert stood at the counter, peeling carrots into the sink. The rhythmic scrape of the peeler was the only sound in the kitchen, save for the occasional creak of the house settling.

  Taylor hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed tightly across her stomach and eyes fixed on the floor.

  “Need something, kiddo?” Danny asked without looking up, his tone easy.

  Taylor shifted her weight, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the tile. “Uh, yeah. Sort of.”

  Danny turned, setting the peeler down and leaning against the counter. “What’s on your mind?”

  Taylor hesitated, biting her lip. “So... Thanksgiving’s coming up, and I was thinking...” She trailed off, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

  Danny set down the peeler, turning to face her fully. “You were thinking…?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

  Taylor took a deep breath, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I was wondering if maybe it’d be okay to invite Rhiyen. To Thanksgiving, I mean. His foster family’s... well, they’re not really… and I thought—” she took a breath, “I thought maybe... maybe he could come here? If that’s okay?”

  “Of course,” Danny interrupted, his tone warm and certain.

  Taylor blinked, caught off guard. “Really? You’re sure?”

  Danny smiled, leaning against the counter. “Sure, kiddo. Thanksgiving’s better with more people. If Rhiyen needs a place to be, he’s welcome here.”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Relief flooded Taylor’s face, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thanks, Dad. I... I think it’ll mean a lot to him.”

  Danny picked up the peeler again, his movements steady. “We’ll set another place at the table. No big deal. Now, how about giving me a hand with these carrots? The sooner we get through them, the sooner we can start planning what to feed him.”

  Taylor grinned, grabbing another peeler from the drawer. Her heart felt lighter as she joined him at the sink. She could already picture the surprise on Rhiyen’s face when she told him the news.

  O*O*O

  A few days later, Taylor looked thoughtful as we settled down on the bus heading to Winslow. She bit her lower lip once, so I knew she was about to speak about something she’d rehearsed in her head a few times.

  “Rhiyen,” she began. “I spoke to my Dad. Would you like to come over for Thanksgiving?”

  I blinked. Harry the Hippy, my adopted father, never celebrated Thanksgiving out of respect for the Native American Genocide, but I’d always been kind of curious. “I’d love to,” I said. “I don’t think the Landrys have anything big going on, so I don’t think they’ll mind.”

  Taylor practically beamed at me.

  That evening, I made sure I beat the Landrys home from work so I could ask. They seemed a little surprised someone wanted to host me, but after I promised to make myself presentable for photos that morning, I could go over to the Hebert’s. That sounded reasonable to me, so we were set.

  When we finished running the day before Thanksgiving, Mr. Hebert asked if I had any requests for food. I looked up from my eggs. “I don’t actually remember ever eating a Thanksgiving dinner, so whatever you all have is fine. I’d like to help with the cooking if I can.”

  He nodded. “How are you at mashing potatoes?” he asked.

  “Untrained but enthusiastic,” I replied, which earned me a smile. “Barring unforeseen complications, I can be here any time after eleven.”

  “Noon should be fine,” he said as Taylor arrived. “We normally eat around five, so there will be plenty of time for prep work.”

  “The potatoes won’t know what hit them,” I replied. “Seriously, thank you for having me.”

  Danny just laughed as Taylor let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I’m off potato duty this year? Thank you! No matter how much I worked on them they always came out lumpy.”

  “Well, I’m more than happy to fill in,” I said as I finished my eggs and hashbrowns. As I headed upstairs to shower, I heard Taylor and her father confirming they had everything they needed for the meal.

  On the bus to Winslow, Taylor was practically bubbling about tomorrow, making me especially glad I’d accepted her invitation. Not that I was likely to turn down a free meal but having me over for Thanksgiving seemed to be setting some kind of seal of approval. I didn’t really want to pry – if she was happy, I was happy.

  It was a little sobering to realize how much my happiness had come to depend on her happiness. I wasn’t sure what to think about that. I knew we needed to have a long talk, and soon.

  O*O*O

  Taylor stood in front of the mirror; her mother’s light blue dress draped carefully over the back of her chair. Her palms felt clammy, and she took a steadying breath, willing herself to move.

  The dress was beautiful, simple but elegant, with a soft shimmer under the dim light of her desk lamp. She’d spent most of the week debating whether she should wear it. Now, staring at it, she wasn’t sure anymore.

  “I’m just overthinking,” she muttered to herself, reaching for the dress. The fabric felt heavier than she remembered, its weight somehow comforting. She carefully slipped it over her head, adjusting the fit until it settled on her lanky frame.

  Turning back to the mirror, Taylor examined her reflection. The dress hugged her shoulders and flowed to her knees, modest but flattering. Still, the thought of wearing it in front of anyone—let alone Rhiyen—made her stomach twist.

  She opened a small makeup kit on her desk, the one she rarely used. Picking up a brush, she applied a light dusting of blush, careful not to overdo it. A tube of pale pink lip gloss followed, its glossy sheen catching the light as she pressed her lips together.

  Her eyes drifted to her hair, a cascade of dark curls tumbling down her back. She grabbed her brush and began working through the tangles, wincing as she hit a few stubborn knots. By the time she was done, her curls looked fuller and more defined, framing her face in a way that felt... nice.

  Taylor stepped back, taking in the full picture. Her reflection stared back, unfamiliar yet familiar all at once. She smoothed the dress nervously, her fingers raising the faint floral scent of her mom’s perfume that still clung to the fabric.

  The thought of her mom filled her with a bittersweet ache, but she smiled softly. “You’d probably say I look fine,” she whispered.

  With one last glance in the mirror, she straightened her posture and turned toward the door. Thanksgiving wasn’t just about dinner this year. It was about making new memories—and sharing a piece of her mom with the people who mattered most.

  O*O*O

  The morning of Thanksgiving, I was up early and showered with actual hot water on a weekday for once. The novelty was nice. As requested, I made sure to look as presentable as possible when Mr. and Mrs. Landry assembled all the fosters for a holiday photo spread. Jared said they did this for their social media and Christmas cards each year. He was evidently an old hand at this, so I followed his lead as we were put in the back of the crowd as the tallest. Jared’s amused tolerance gave way to a sincere smile as the camera came up. I followed suit.

  Although their mercenary nature was evident to my cynical mind, I had to admit that having more involved foster parents would have complicated things for me a lot. I chose to be grateful for a warm place to sleep and the limited food they provided. My unnatural appetite was no one else’s responsibility. So what if I got tired of mac and cheese?

  With the pictures over, I got permission to leave and donned my parka. The buses were running a reduced schedule on the holiday, but I had plenty of time, so I walked it. Or rather, jogged it to stay warm.

  When I knocked on the Hebert’s door, it was opened by Taylor wearing a light blue knee-length dress that looked stunning on her. Her hair was a loose mane of gentle waves that washed over her shoulders, and I think she was wearing a little blush on her cheeks. I stood stock-still as my brain re-booted.

  “Rhiyen?” she asked hesitantly. “Would you like to come inside?”

  “Oh. Uh. Yeah. I… I would,” I said, sounding like a complete imbecile.

  She smiled a little and swept back, stepping aside from the entryway. It took a moment for me to realize that I needed to now walk forward. When I finally did, she shut the door behind me. “You look, uh, really amazing,” I finally said.

  Taylor blushed even harder. “This dress was my mom’s,” she quietly said, looking down.

  “You do her proud,” I finally said. “Seriously.”

  She smiled at me. “Since we were just staying home today, I thought I would get this out.”

  “Oh yeah,” I agreed. “This is way too nice for Winslow. Even if it would totally put some people in their place.”

  “I thought I felt a draft,” Mr. Hebert said as he walked in from the kitchen.

  “I was just saying how nice Taylor looks,” I said as I took off the parka and hung it in the closet. I was acutely aware that I was just wearing my normal school clothes, albeit one of the nicer button-up shirts.

  “I agree,” he said, ignoring Taylor’s continuing flush. He paused, looking at her. “Annette wore that dress in college when we started dating.”

  Taylor was quiet, looking at her father.

  “I still have a lot of things to be grateful for this year,” he continued, smiling at Taylor. “She’d have loved to see you in that dress, Little Owl.”

  That seemed to have released some of the tension in the room. I went to the kitchen to wash my hands and get to work. I was already beginning to smell good tidings from the oven wherein I was pretty sure a turkey was roasting.

  Mr. Hebert had been up early, preparing the turkey and what I was informed was chestnut stuffing. So, he was relaxing in the living room in front of the television while Taylor and I occupied the kitchen. She was working on a couple of side dishes involving green beans and pearl onions, while I was washing and peeling some russet potatoes. I was glad I’d done a little surreptitious research online in Mrs. Knott’s class.

  Once that was done, I cubed them up and started them boiling in a pot of slightly 56salted water. While that was heating, I leaned against the counter and watched Taylor working in an apron with her hair tied back. She paused every so often to glance at me.

  “Rhiyen,” she asked after a moment. “What are you doing? And why are you smiling?”

  “You look nice,” I said. “And I’m happy to be here. Seeing you like this was worth the jog all by itself.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, pausing to turn toward me. “And didn’t you take the bus?”

  “Holiday schedule. I’d rather run than wait for a bus that may or may not arrive. You look happy. And nice. I wished I’d had a chance to know your mother and see what bits of her live on in you.”

  Taylor put down her paring knife, stepped up to me and wrapped me up in a hug, resting her head against my chest.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” I murmured as I hugged her back.

  We stayed like that for a while.

  O*O*O

  Unfortunately, boiling potatoes and slicing shallots waits for no man. As Taylor worked on her green beans almondine, the potato cubes became fork tender and I drained the whole pot into a colander. It wasn’t until I was done that I noticed that the pot handles were not insulated. They’d felt warm, but not unbearably hot to the fingers wrapped around them. If Taylor noticed the lack of dish towels or oven mitts, she didn’t say anything.

  That done, I put the cubes back into the drained pot, picked up the potato masher, and went to town on my starchy prey. I picked up the warm pot under one arm and rotated it bit by bit as I worked the masher up and down with my other hand. Every three strokes, I’d shake the masher to clear it of spuds. I kind of zoned out as I worked, until after a while Taylor nudged my elbow.

  “Be careful you don’t over work them,” she cautioned.

  I nodded, not sure exactly what she meant. “How is that possible?”

  “I’m not sure, it’s something my mom said once.”

  “Good enough for me,” I agreed.

  I got out a big pan and heated a mixture of butter and cream until it was melted and hot. Then I worked the mashed potatoes into it, folding and then whisking the final result. It needed a little salt, which I added, but the texture seemed to be silky smooth.

  Around this time, Taylor was putting a mixture of pearl onions, heavy cream, and spices into the oven to warm as the turkey finished roasting. Then we retired to the living room.

  “I checked the turkey,” she announced as she flopped down on the couch. “It’ll be about half an hour more, according to the thermometer.”

  Mr. Hebert nodded, looking up from a college football game. “Smells about right. Everything okay with the sides?”

  “It all came out well,” she said as I sat next to her on the couch. “If Rhiyen left a single lump alive, I’ll eat my pillow.”

  I snorted. “I just followed the instructions I looked up.”

  “If everyone I worked with ‘just followed the instructions’ my life would be so much easier,” Mr. Hebert groused with a smile.

  Soon enough, the bird was ready, and we all gathered around a well-laden table.

  “Before we eat,” Mr. Hebert said in a solemn voice. “We have a tradition of each person saying what they are thankful for that year. I’ll start off. I’m grateful for my health and thankful that Taylor and I are communicating better. It’s been a hard couple of years since...” his voice trailed off and he swallowed. “But now I feel we are closer than ever.”

  Taylor took up the reins next. “I’m grateful for my health as well. I’m glad the running is helping me get in shape. And I’m thankful that things are going better at school.” She swallowed and turned toward me. “I’m also thankful to have you as a friend, Rhiyen.”

  I took a deep breath. I wished she’d warned me about this ahead of time. Did everyone do this around Thanksgiving? “I’m very grateful for my health,” I agreed, “and particularly thankful for Steve the night watchman who helped me out of the bay.” I added with a shaky laugh. “I’m thankful to be here with you all today, and I’m thankful I got to know you, Taylor.”

  Her smile was like the sun coming up. My mouth felt a little dry and I had to take a drink of water.

  Mr. Hebert carved the turkey, and we dug into the food. It was really/ good, and the company made it better.

  O*O*O

  When we finished eating, put away the leftovers, and cleaned the dishes, it was well past dark. Taylor spoke to her father as I rinsed the last fork and insisted that they were going to drive me home.

  “It’s not really necessary,” I said.

  “Rhiyen,” she began patiently, “I remember what you said about the buses, and I don’t want you walking home alone.”

  I fought down a surge of irritation. She was just concerned. “I was able to walk here no problem,” I began reasonably.

  “But it’s dark now, and you just had a big meal,” she countered.

  At that point, I surrendered to the inevitable. I didn’t want her to worry, and she didn’t know she really didn’t need to worry about me. It was getting complicated, and I felt a little like a fraud. Maybe we’d have time to talk during the winter break.

  Taylor and Danny, as he insisted that I now call him, drove me home to the Landry’s house. I sat in the front seat to navigate the way, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. I had the feeling he wanted to meet my foster-parents, and I had no idea how that would go.

  To my surprise, Mr. Landry met us at the door after Danny pulled into the driveway. Charles Landry was a large, florid man with a neatly trimmed beard who worked as an accountant for a firm downtown. He stayed on the porch.

  “You must be Mr. Hebert,” he said, looking down at us as we got out of the car.

  “Danny Hebert,” he said, introducing himself. “And this is my daughter Taylor.”

  Taylor gave a little curtsey. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Charles Landry,” my foster parent replied. “Good of you to host young Ryan.”

  “It was no trouble,” Danny assured him.

  “I see,” Landry said. “I would invite you in, but my wife is suffering from a headache and retired early. I’m sure you understand.”

  “We understand,” Danny replied, clearly reading the dismissal for what it was.

  I turned toward them. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “It’s no problem,” Danny said.

  Taylor gave me a quick hug, as she was shivering. “Want to go to the library tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Yeah, we still have that paper for Gladly,” I answered as I squeezed her back. They got back in their car as I walked up the porch steps and followed Mr. Landry into the house. In the living room, his wife, Dolores, didn’t spare a glance away from the television show she was engrossed in. I turned to look at her husband, who was gazing at me, waiting for me to call him out for his obvious lie.

  I turned and walked to my room and shut the door.

  O*O*O

  December was more of the same routine, with some differences. Several times our morning running plans were aborted in favor of shoveling snow together, starting with Danny’s driveway. If the snow forecast was heavy enough to chance the buses not running, I just woke up a little earlier and made like a snow-rabbit. Clearing snow was a good upper-body and back workout, but one I adapted to a lot easier than Taylor. I was glad to take on more of the labor and we usually had enough time to clear the paths for some of their neighbors that had trouble doing it themselves.

  Unfortunately, Taylor ended up sore the first time we did this, and we got grilled by Danny a bit. After that, despite her insistence that she was fine, I made sure she didn’t overdo it. And we did much more extensive upper body cooldown exercises afterward.

  After I made an offhand comment about following her into the shower with a jar of liniment if she didn’t take better care of herself, she calmed down a bit. I wonder why?

  Of course, the Landrys soon noted that I was the first one awake most weekday mornings, so clearing their driveway was added to my daily chores list. I had to set my alarm another fifteen minutes earlier. After Thanksgiving, I tried to avoid them as much as possible.

  Schoolwork became more hectic as the end of semester exams approached. The teachers made it very clear that our finals would be a large part of our grades and that we needed to be prepared. It became clear that it was also affecting more than just us. The bullying attempts from the Witches Three and their minions started to trail off and became nonexistent. It was a little odd, but apparently even they needed to buckle down if they wanted to pass their classes.

  We didn’t have a chance to study together after school at the library. The weather was uncertain enough to discourage staying out too long as evening approached. So, I started seeing very little of Taylor outside of school and exercising, which bothered me a little. Finally, I asked her on the bus, where I had little expectation of being overheard, if she had plans for the Christmas break.

  “Not really,” she replied, huddling down in her coat. Danny was right about the bus heaters struggling with the winter air.

  “Would it be possible to meet up?” I asked. “Maybe try to get ahead on next semester?”

  “I’d like to,” she agreed. “But I’m kind of tired of freezing walking to and from the library. I’ll ask Dad if we can just study at home.”

  My eyebrows raised a little at this. No unsupervised home visits were an unspoken boundary Danny seemed to prefer. We’d only really pushed it once when Taylor told me about her mom – she’d also shown me some pictures and keepsakes of Annette Hebert.

  Taylor seemed to notice my expression. “I’ll talk to Dad; I don’t think he’ll mind. You really made a good impression on him on Thanksgiving.” She paused, her teeth worrying at her lower lip for a moment. “I think he might have glanced in the kitchen a few times. You know, when you said you wished you’d had a chance to meet Mom.”

  “I see,” I said, swallowing. Taylor hugged me after that, and I’d returned the embrace. It wasn’t a quick one either. At least he hadn’t turfed me out of the house on the spot. “If he’s okay with it, it would be nice to get a chance to talk as well.” I tried to give an encouraging smile as I said that. I knew enough about how Taylor’s mind worked that saying we needed to have a serious talk would make her crazy anxious, thinking she’d done something wrong, and that I wanted to disassociate myself from her. Her self-esteem was still fragile, damn those stinking primates to hell.

  In fact, my mind was pretty much made up. I liked what I’d seen so far, and I was interested in getting to know her better – and maybe pursuing a relationship. The real question was whether she’d feel the same after all my cards were on the table.

  O*O*O

  Taylor sat cross-legged on the couch; her math textbook balanced on her lap. The soft hum of the evening news played in the background, blending with the quiet rustle of her dad sipping coffee in his armchair. She flipped a page, the words blurring slightly as her mind drifted. She glanced up at her dad, who seemed relaxed, and content with the moment. Now was probably the best time to ask.

  “Hey, Dad?” she said, trying to sound casual.

  “Hm?” he replied, not looking up from his mug.

  Taylor fiddled with the corner of her book. “I was thinking... maybe over winter break, Rhiyen and I could study together? You know, catch up on school stuff, maybe get ahead for next semester?” Her voice was steady, but she could feel her heartbeat quicken.

  Danny finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Study, huh?”

  Taylor nodded quickly. “Yeah. He’s good at math, and I can help him with World Affairs. It’s getting too cold to ride the bus to the library to study together.”

  Her dad’s lips curled into a small smirk, which was the first sign of trouble. He put his coffee down. “Sure, makes sense. Just promise me one thing, kiddo—don’t make me a grandfather while you’re ‘studying.’” His fingers made quotation marks to emphasize the point.

  Taylor’s face instantly went hot. She dropped her book onto the cushion beside her and groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Daaaad! Seriously?”

  He chuckled a deep, amused sound that made her simultaneously want to laugh and sink into the floor. “What? I’m just being a responsible parent.”

  Peeking through her fingers, Taylor shot him a glare, though the heat in her cheeks refused to subside. “We’re not like that! It’s just school stuff!”

  Danny grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Uh-huh. I’m just saying, I was your age once too, you know.”

  Taylor groaned again, louder this time, but a reluctant smile crept onto her face. “You’re impossible.”

  “And you’re fun to tease,” he shot back, picking up his mug again. “If you want to study with Rhiyen, it’s fine by me. Just keep it PG.”

  “Daaaaaad,” Taylor whined, but the playful edge in her voice gave her away.

  Danny chuckled again, the sound filling the room. Taylor couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she picked up her textbook. When her dad headed into the kitchen to do the dishes, she started pacing around the room in unexpected agitation. She noticed the clutter on the coffee table.

  She straightened things in the living room, stacking some novels on the end table next to the couch. While she was gathering papers from the coffee table, her mind kept circling back to the idea of having Rhiyen here—alone. The thought made her stomach flip in a way she wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret.

  Her dad had given permission, teasing her in that embarrassing way he always did, and she’d convinced herself it was just for school. But now the reality was sinking in. The thought of Rhiyen sitting next to her, his quiet confidence and warmth filling the space, made her chest feel tight and her hands a little shaky. Would he notice how awkward she was? Would he feel out of place? Her cheeks burned as she tried to shove the thoughts aside, smoothing a wrinkle from the couch cushion. She tried to ignore the flutter of nerves and focus on making the room look inviting.

  O*O*O

  The end of term exams went a little easier than expected. Removing the distractions from constant bullying attempts improved our grades – who would have thunk it? Sarcasm aside, I was grateful for the reprieve, especially for Taylor. Conflict, especially the constant low-level provocations, seemed to bother her more than me.

  Sometimes I wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with me, given how much I enjoyed fighting. Was it nature, given my unusual birth, or nurture, growing up with an absent mother and laissez-faire father like Harry? I liked to think that it was all right if I confined it to people that had done something to deserve it.

  Another thing to talk about with Taylor. The thought of opening myself up like this made me nervous, but I had a sense that there was a narrowing window where I could come clean about things before she would feel deceived.

  Of course, Taylor noticed how broody I was being, and asked about it on the bus ride home after the last day of classes.

  “Rhiyen, are you all right?” she asked in a low tone. The ambient noise level on the old city bus was enough to guarantee a modicum of privacy along with the occasional headache.

  “I’m okay,” I tried to reassure her. “Just have a lot on my mind.” That last bit was the wrong thing to say, however, because I could see the worry line appear between her eyebrows. “I’m looking forward to next week.”

  She nodded slowly and relaxed a little. “I talked to Dad, he’s fine if you stay over after running,” she said. By the way she swallowed and blushed a little, I suspected he talked to her about more than that. “We’re meeting up with Kurt and Lacey, they’re with the Dockworker’s Union, this weekend to set things up for the big Christmas party.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I said.

  “It really is,” she said. “Money’s tight this year, but they are still getting everyone together for a toy drive and a big potluck dinner.” She paused. “I’d ask if you wanted to come, but it’s for union members and dependents only.”

  “It’s all right,” I said quickly. “You and Danny would be the only people there that I knew. And inviting me to Thanksgiving was more than enough holiday cheer.” Without quite realizing what I was doing, I wrapped my fingers around her slightly chilly hand.

  Taylor’s expression went from anxious to startled. She closed her fingers around mine.

  Something about seeing her in distress seemed to override my normal desire to not make a fool of myself.

  “Your hand’s cold,” I said. Twice dammit! What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Your hand’s really warm,” she said back. Okay, at least I wasn’t the only one indulging in braindead commentary.

  An older Hispanic lady across the aisle was now watching us with a big grin on her face. I hoped she was enjoying the show.

  Our stop could not come soon enough.