Ben had been awake for a few hours but was too nervous to knock on Sara's door. It was only four in the morning, and he wouldn't wake her up needlessly. He would just have to spend some time on his own. There had been a time when Ben would have delighted in that. But a lot had changed since his dad died.
Ben just felt alone, even with Sara. Things had never been easy in their house, but they had been stable. He knew where he was and had some idea of what was to come. But now he felt like a castaway left adrift in the world's smallest lifeboat. He had no idea where he would end up, but wherever it was, it wasn't home.
At Least Sara was in that lifeboat with him. She had no more power to help their situation than he had, but a problem shared was a problem halved as someone somewhere had said. Ben wasn't sure if he could have coped without her.
Their dad's death must have been as much a surprise for him as it was for them because he had never created a formal will. This had left Ben and Sara in legal limbo for over a month, where no one was quite sure what to do with them. There was their mum, but no one seemed to know where she was. Ben had entertained a fantasy of her rushing into the care home shouting their names. They would rush down, and they would hug, and she would be crying and saying how sorry she was for leaving, but she would stay this time. She would promise, and she would keep it.
If their mum had ever heard the news, then she had never called. Ben had thought they would just have to stay in the care home forever or wait until a stranger took pity on them. Sara had been upset when she had heard about Tia Maggie trying to get custody of them, but Ben was overjoyed.
True Tia Maggie was as good as a stranger to them, but she was family. There was something there to take hold of. It was alright for Sara to say she would rather stay in care. She would be free to leave when she turned sixteen in the summer. Ben would be stuck there for at least another five years and worse if Sara left, he would have no one.
True their dad hadn't liked Tia Maggie, but then he hadn't really liked anyone in the end. She was trying, and Ben liked that. It had been a long time since Ben had felt wanted.
He had to admit though that now he was here he felt a little weird. He had never been particularly close to his dad. Sara would talk about times when he had taken her places like the Deep, the cinema or even, once, Pleasure Island. The man Sara described had never been Ben's dad. Ben's dad had never really been there. He was always just somewhere else. He would say words in Ben's general direction, and Ben would reply, but no talking ever took place. It was like the two were separated by stained glass. All Ben ever saw was a static image with vague shadows of something real beneath.
It was strange then to be sat in his dad's old bedroom. He looked at the walls and saw posters of bands and films that his dad must have loved at some point. He saw the books still in the bookcase. Had his dad ever liked any of these or had they just been bad Christmas gifts?
There were aircraft models strung up on the ceiling. Spitfires and hurricanes suspended in imagined flight. Ben tried to picture a young boy spending his Saturday meticulously glueing them together piece by piece and the pride he must have felt when he finally held the complete model in his hands.
As Ben sat pondering all that surrounded him, he began to hear sounds coming from the living room. These were only slight sounds of moving chairs and shuffling feet, and their origin was no great mystery.
Sara hadn't left her room and, whilst Ben hadn't heard Tia Maggie leave hers, who else could it have been? Ben probably spent a good half hour debating whether or not he should go downstairs.
Would Tia Maggie be annoyed that he wasn't asleep? Mum had always hated it when she found Ben wandering the flat in the dark and even after she had left, Ben felt a residual fear of disapproval whenever he struggled to sleep.
But the longer he stayed in his dad's old room, the more uncomfortable he became. With a bit of hesitation, Ben crept out into the corridor and began to sneak downstairs.
It was still dark outside, and Ben slipped out of his room plunging into the inky darkness of the late autumn morning. For a second Ben felt the darkness wrap around him like a net sprung from the ceiling. It was fortunately short-lived, as Ben quickly found the light of the living room shining bright in the darkness.
The closer he got to the harsh glow of the living room lights, he found himself flinching away from the jagged dance of his Tia's shadow that dogged his steps down the stairs.
Ben had become well-practised at sneaking his way through their old darkened flat and these skills were put to good use. He was down the stairwell and sneaking around the living room door without so much as a squeak.
It hadn't really been his intention to sneak up on his Tia. Ben had fully intended to make his presence known with a knock on the door or a clearing of his throat. When he slipped into the room, however, uncertainty took him, and he refused to let go. Tia Maggie was sitting in her chair with a laptop open bathing her in pale blue light. Whatever it was she was working on it was clearly important because her fingers never left the keys.
Was she working this early? Ben wasn't fully sure what Tia Maggie's job was, but it would have to be something she could do from inside. That probably meant it had to be on a computer and surely nothing else would take this much of her concentration. She probably shouldn't be disturbed. She might get angry. Maybe he could sneak up the stairs back to his room. But what if she heard him leave? Then she would think he had been spying on her. Was he spying on her? He was just standing in the doorway looking at her. But that wasn't spying because he intended to make himself known. Unless he decided not to of course but then....
"Ay Dios." Tia Maggie said with a start.
The laptop nearly slipped to the floor as Tia Maggie recovered from the shock of suddenly seeing her nephew standing silently in her doorway.
"Ben, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that," said Tia Maggie. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
With the suddenness of getting caught, Ben found himself unable to straighten his mind into creating coherent sentences. Any attempt for words to leave his mouth simply sputtered out into silent stammers.
Tia Maggie's initial shock softened on her face as she lowered her laptop screen.
"Lo Siento Ben," she said. "I startle easy. I know you didn't mean to scare me."
A smile spread across Tia Maggie's face, but it wasn't without concern.
"I'm guessing you couldn't sleep?" asked Tia Maggie.
Ben wanted to say something, but he couldn't quite raise a voice. He settled for nodding. That was enough for Tia Maggie who patted the sofa cushion closest to her.
"Come on," she said, "the more flour, the more dough."
Ben hesitated for a moment until he caught the concerned glint in his Tia's eye. She might actually want Ben to sit with her. What an odd thought.
Ben crept up to the sofa and pulled himself up onto the cushion. Tia Maggie smiled at him, and he smiled back.
"I can put the TV on if you'd like?" she asked. "I'm not sure what I'd have that's appropriate, most of the kids' stuff we have here is in Spanish, maybe I could take a look in the cupboard. I think there was some more in there, but I haven't really looked in..."
"I'm okay," said Ben.
"Are you sure?" said Tia Maggie. "You don't have to sit quietly because of me. I'm not doing anything important."
"Are you sure?" asked Ben.
Tia Maggie looked at her laptop with a sheepish smile.
"Yeah, I'm sure," said Tia Maggie. "I was just...."
She met Ben's gaze and seemed to take a moment to weigh him up.
"I was actually just doing some writing," she said, "Some stories."
"You're a writer," said Ben.
His sudden enthusiasm must have been clearly visible as he saw it briefly reflected in the face of his Tia before it once again fell to embarrassment.
"No, I wish," she said. "I actually work for a bank handling fraud cases. It's not even the exciting criminal stuff just reading and responding to customer complaints before sending them off to the people who actually do something. It's boring enough for me so I won't make you suffer with the details. Writing's just sort of a hobby."
Ben was aware that Tia Maggie was desperately trying to move away from the subject, but he just couldn't let go. Books meant a lot to Ben. They were one of the few things that let him be with himself but not himself. He had never really thought much about writing himself; he struggled to come up with things that hadn't or couldn't really happen, but it was probably one of the things he thought most highly of. For his own Tia to be a secret writer was possibly the greatest discovery he had ever made.
"What sort of stuff do you write?" asked Ben.
Tia Maggie reddened.
"You know just stories," she said, "sort of horror stories."
Well, that was the ticket. It would surprise most people, if they ever bothered to ask, that there was nothing Ben loved more than horror stories. Well, love might be the wrong word. Ben couldn't come close to counting the sleepless nights spent in vigilance against some imagined terror he had read about in one of his books. He always hated that feeling of anxious dread he would get as he stared into the pages of some truly twisted tale, but it never stopped him. He would tell himself that he should never pick up one of those books again or research them online when he was on the computers at school. No, he should leave well enough alone and be happier for it. He could never listen to himself though. It would only take a day if that, before the siren's call of scary stories would lull him back to some horror.
"What kind of horror stories?" asked Ben.
It was Ben's turn to go crimson as Tia Maggie eyed him curiously. Ben's immediate thought was that she was annoyed at his constant questioning, but as the look settled, Ben began to suspect that there was a little excitement mixed in with it.
"Ghost stories," said Tia Maggie, "mostly anyway. I did do a couple of vampire ones, and there was this one werewolf one, but that didn't quite work out."
"Cool," said Ben.
Tia Maggie smiled.
"Like I said it's just a hobby," she said. "It's probably a little weird, but I just find it... relaxing. I don't know. I guess I just always have all this horrible stuff in my head. It just feels good to get it out."
Tia Maggie suddenly glanced back at her nephew and shifted in her seat.
"Sorry Ben," she said. "That might have been a bit of oversharing. I don't talk to many people about... well I don't talk to many people, so I guess I've become a little weird."
"I don't think you're weird," said Ben.
Tia Maggie laughed at that, but the smile that followed was at least sincere.
"Gracias, Mi Amor," she said.
There was a moment of silence as Ben watched Maggie look back to her screen and begin typing out a few more sentences.
"Could I read some?" asked Ben.
"No!" said Tia Maggie. "Lo Siento, no. I don't... I've never had anyone read anything I've written, and it would be... you wouldn't like it."
There may have been more that could have been said, but Ben was already pushing his social limits, and it was very early. Ben and his Tia allowed themselves to move with fleeting awkwardness to a comfortable silence.
Breakfast was already on the table when Sara thundered her way downstairs.
Morning Aunt Maggie," said Sara groggily. "Bloody hell that's a lot of food."
"It is, isn't it," said Tia Maggie, "I usually just cook for myself. I may have overdone it. Still a lot of fuel for your big day."
It was quite obvious that Tia Maggie was not used to cooking. Everything was burned with the exception of the baked beans which were still cold. Ben ate up as much as he could stomach though for fear of hurting her feelings. Sara seemed less concerned about this but didn't say anything which Ben appreciated.
Overall breakfast was a much quieter affair than last night had been. Tia Maggie was clearly too tired to force conversation, and the others weren't going to provide it. They sat and ate as much as they could before the time came for them to leave for school.
Sara remained in her pyjamas until the last minute when she went up to get changed. Ben then had to spend a few agonising moments as their initial start time was delayed by fifteen whole minutes before she came back down again.
Ben could see why. Sara had done her face up with a thick layer of foundation. Ben was sympathetic to her sister's preference for makeup, but he would have preferred if she had factored that in when planning out the morning.
As soon as Sara was down the stairs, Ben hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and nearly fell flat on his face from the weight. Sara had to get him up and help him balance until he looked like a small tortoise waddling out of the house.
They were delayed once again when Tia Maggie rushed over to give them packed lunches. With her breakfast efforts still churning in their stomachs, it was difficult for either Ben or Sara to have much enthusiasm for this, but Ben was just happy that he would definitely have lunch.
"Adios," Tia Maggie called from a foot behind the doorway.
"Adios, Tia Maggie," Ben Replied
Sara just gave a wave with an accompanying grunt.
Ben had been quietly anxious about finding the school. Tia Maggie had given them directions, but she could have walked them through on a scale model, and it wouldn't have assuaged Ben's fears. As usual though Ben found them to be unfounded. Once they had taken five steps down the street, the school was actually visible on the crest of a small incline.
"Why do you call her that?" Sara asked.
"What?" asked Ben.
"Why do you call Aunt Maggie, Tia?" said Sara.
"Because that's the Spanish word for Aunt," said Ben.
"I know that," said Sara, "but why don't you just call her aunt?"
"Because she speaks Spanish," said Ben.
"You don't," said Sara.
"No," admitted Ben, "but I've been trying to learn. You know I thought it'd be nice for Tia Maggie. Plus, it's, you know, part of our heritage and stuff."
"Please," said Sara, "if it was so important Dad would have taught us."
Ben didn't push back on that. He did not need any arguments right now.
The two of them were about halfway to the school and yet Tia Maggie's house was still only a stone's throw away. Sara was looking back at it as they walked.
"What do you think she even does all day," Sara asked.
"She said last night that she worked in fraud," said Ben.
"Oh, she's a fraudster," said Sara.
"No, I think she works in prevention," said Ben.
Sara laughed.
"I was joking Ben," she said, giving him a small punch on the arm.
Ben laughed awkwardly. He had a bad habit of taking people too seriously.
Normally, he might have dwelt on this faux par for the next hour at least but something suddenly took his whole attention. The quiet of the village street was suddenly broken by thunderous barking. Ben shot back as the chain fence behind him rattled outward.
He was only moderately relieved when he saw what was causing all the commotion. Behind the fence was a dog that must have taken insult at their walking past its territory. It was not a large dog, in fact, it was a particularly small Jack Russell, but it was barking up a storm as it pawed at the thin mesh that kept it from its prey.
Ben was tensed, but he realised that the dog was not looking at him. Its eyes were affixed to the other side of the road where Sara was now standing, backing as far away as she possibly could.
"Jackson," a voice called out, "Jackson, down."
Ben looked to see a kindly old lady walking out of the door.
"It's all right," she shouted across the street. "He's not going to hurt you."
Ben gave a weak smile, but the woman didn't seem to notice him. She instead shooed her dog back into the house. The dog had ceased barking, but Ben got the distinct impression that it was giving Sara a warning glance as it disappeared.
"I haven't seen you around before," said the lady. "Are you one of the Sanchez's."
Sara didn't say anything. Ben sensed her anxiety from the dog was turning and felt he had to step in quickly before Sara went off the handle.
"Yes, we are," he said, "we've only just moved in yesterday."
The woman half jumped out of her skin when Ben spoke. She turned back and for the first time actually took note of him.
"God, I nearly didn't see you there lad," she said. "They should put a bell round your neck."
Ben smiled shyly.
"How are you holding up by the way?" asked the lady, "I've heard it was a nasty business with your father."
Had she now? Ben was suddenly much less charitable to this woman. He had not anticipated anyone knowing about their dad let alone random women on the street. Did everybody know? Would everyone at school be teasing them about it? Would teachers call it out? How would they treat them? Would nobody want to be the friend of the sad little boy whose dad had Just...
"You better get going sweetheart," the old lady said, "it looks like your sister is already halfway there."
Ben turned to see that Sara was a good mile down the street. He made a string of words intended to be a polite goodbye and then dashed off after her.
Sara was almost at the school gates by the time Ben caught up.
"Stupid old bat," Sara said, "should keep her bloody dog inside if they're going to act like that."
Ben gave a small noise of agreement and grabbed Sara's hand. She shook him off.
"Ben, come on," said Sara, "you're in big school now; you can't go around holding my hand."
Ben put his hand back on his bag strap and looked at his shoes. He wasn't a kid anymore, that's what everyone kept telling him, he had to learn to take care of himself. It didn't seem anyone else was going to do it.
Ben felt the familiar thump of Sara's fist on his arm. When he looked up, she was giving him a soft smile. Ben returned it as best he could.
"Come on," she said, "I think we have to go to the reception first."
It was strange to Ben how much the reception looked almost identical to the one at his old school. The walls were painted the same bland cream white, the floor was covered in the same dark carpet with patterns made to perfectly suggest being interesting without going so far as to be it.
Sara and Ben had spoken to one of the ladies who was working in the reception, and she had smiled and told them to sit in the plush chairs. Chairs that Ben was almost certain were from his last school. Their blue fabric coverings even seemed to be broken in the same places, revealing the same bare yellowed sponge.
From then on, they waited. The clock on the wall slowly made its way from ten to nine, to nine, to quarter past nine and then all the way to half past nine.
Ben spent much of this time growing steadily more anxious. He tried to tell himself that he couldn't get in trouble for being late. How could they? After all, they had done what they were supposed to do. They had been told to come to school and visit the reception. Had they been told that? Or had Sara just thought that? What if they were actually supposed to go to their lesson? How would they know what that was though without being told? What if they had been told and he just couldn't remember? He didn't usually forget these things, but then it had been quite a stressful few months, and things were liable to happen. The receptionist would have told them. Or would she? Maybe she didn't know. Were they even at the right school? What if they went to the wrong one? They would ring Aunt Maggie, and she would think they skipped school. What would she say then? What if she thought they were too much trouble? What if she...
"I think this is Aunt Maggie's fault," said Sara.
Ben shrugged, still very much in his thought spiral.
"How much longer do you think they'll make us wait?" asked Sara.
Ben shrugged again.
"Are you not talking to me now," said Sara, "is that it?"
"No," said Ben.
"No, you're not talking to me," said Sara, "or no you are,"
"No, I am," said Ben.
Sara gave him a smile.
"Good," said Sara, "because if you can't talk to me, how are you going to talk to anyone else?"
Ben had been worried about that more than anything. He had never been the most social even back at his old school. Then, at least it had been easy to make friends. You could call anyone your friend if you were just in their orbit. In secondary it was harder, he assumed anyway, that seemed to be what all the books and TV shows told him. Ben didn't mind being alone in practice, but there was a world of difference between choosing to be alone and being alone through other people's choice. Ben was sure he wouldn't find any friends. How could he? No one seemed to want him around.
It was a quarter to ten when a small, stocky man finally made his way through to the reception. It was the head teacher. Ben could tell straight away. The head teacher always had a way about them that made it easy to tell who they were. They were often one of the few teachers wearing a suit, and they carried themselves with a pronounced authority. It must be quite important. Running a school must be a bit like being a lion tamer. You had to make your charges believe that you had power over them even though they could so easily rip you apart.
The man walked up to the reception and asked if the Sanchez's had arrived. The receptionist pointed to the only two other people in the room sitting just behind the Head.
"Ahh," he said, in a nasally north Yorkshire accent, "I'm Mr Briggs the head teacher here at Manor Road."
Ben silently congratulated himself.
"Sorry about the delay," said Mr Briggs, "there was a minor issue with some paperwork, but we're all sorted now."
Sara gave Ben a knowing look.
"If you would just like to come with me," said Mr Briggs, "I'll take you to my office where we'll get you sorted with school jumpers and your timetables."
He looked anxiously at the clock on the wall.
"You are a bit late for first period so we might wait until break to set you loose. It'll be a nice little half day to ease you in."
Mr Briggs led them on an annoyingly short journey to his office. It was almost identical to the reception area with the same walls, chairs, and carpet. The only distinguishing feature was a desk with two chairs placed before it. Mr Briggs motioned for Sara and Ben to take a seat as he fitted himself behind the desk.
Mr Briggs pulled two nearly identical packages out from under the desk and placed them in front of Ben and Sara. At his insisting nod they opened the packages to find their navy school jumpers within.
"Not the most stylish of things," he said, "but it will make you feel a part of our school community."
Ben smiled shyly, and Sara smiled in a way that was dangerously close to openly contemptuous. If Mr Briggs noticed, he chose to ignore it.
The Jumpers were actually a bit big on both Ben and Sara, but that was better than the alternative. It was actually a little distressing to Ben how similar these too were to his old uniform. Were all places and times just a series of minor variations on one another? Did it really matter if he lived in Winters Green, Hull or anywhere else if the only differences were minor aesthetics?
Mr Briggs was muttering a few pleasantries seemingly to fill time as he struggled to get his computer to print their timetables. Why he hadn't done this before they had arrived was anyone's guess. Eventually, he gave a successful laugh as he hit print and stared expectantly at the printer on his desk. The printer on a table on the other side of the room whirred to life, and Mr Briggs muttered something shockingly close to an obscenity as he got up to retrieve it.
He placed before them a sheet which held two alternate weeks of classes. Ben internally winced as he saw the frequency of PE lessons.
"We are currently on week two," said Mr Briggs," so those will be the lessons you have today. Now we're a way into the first term so you will be a little behind on work. I wouldn't worry too much at the moment, though. Just let your teachers know if you're struggling and take these next two weeks as a time to settle into your new school."
He looked up at the clock.
"It's still ten minutes to break, but since we kept you waiting so long this morning, I'll let you go out a little early," he said. "Just remember to make your way to your classes once the bell goes."
Initially, it seemed that Mr Briggs was letting them go and accordingly Ben and Sara began to get up from their seats.
"Oh, one quick thing, misses Sanchez," Mr Briggs said suddenly.
Ben saw Sara's face tighten. The issue was obvious.
"I'm not sure about your last school, but we have very strict rules about makeup," he said. "It's not a problem you weren't to know that so I will, of course, let you off. You can use my washroom to clean it off and we'll say no more about it".
If the condescension had not been lost on Ben, it would certainly not be for Sara, and he was a little worried as he watched her sit tensed in her seat. Eventually, however, Sara got up without a word and made her way out in a steady, if not calm, manner.
Ben spent what seemed an agonizingly long time alone with Mr Briggs as they both waited for her to return. Not knowing how long she would take neither seemed to want to start even the smallest of talk and so beyond the odd glance and awkward smile the two did not interact.
When Sara finally emerged from the washroom, it provided little relief. What was visible of her face was clearly without makeup, but there had been a lot of effort made to cover as much as possible with her hair.
"There," said Mr Briggs, "you really do have a lovely face. You don't need to cover it up with makeup."
With the look Sara gave the Head, Ben was convinced he would have to step in. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary as it was right then that the bell went.
"Ah," said Mr Briggs, "there's the bell for break, excellent timing; go and enjoy the fifteen minutes, but be sure to get to your next lesson. I'm certain you'll find it quite pleasant here at Manor Road."
Sara didn't need much coaxing. She was already halfway to the door before Mr Briggs had finished Speaking. Ben felt he should make some kind of goodbye but wasn't sure what so he ended up just awkwardly bowing before running off after her.
It was at least easy to know where they were going. The hallways were now flooded with pupils all making their way out into the courtyard. Ben found himself drowning in a sea of large teenagers as he tried desperately to stay close to his sister. Sara seemed preoccupied with just getting somewhere alone and so was less attentive to her brother's struggles. Once they had been washed out into the open, the crowd dispersed, and it became possible to move around. Ben followed Sara until she found a quiet corner of the yard. She sat down heavily on the lip of the school field and gave an angry groan.
Ben felt a bit useless in situations like this. He felt he should do something but was never confident in what. He could say something but everything he thought of felt hollow and patronising. He could ask her what was wrong, but he knew exactly what was wrong and was fairly sure Sara wouldn't want to talk about it. In the end, he decided the best thing to do would be to sit down next to Sara and not say anything at all.
"This place sucks," Sara said finally.
Ben shrugged.
"Maybe it'll be alright," he said.
Ben didn't quite believe that. He wanted to though and maybe if he kept saying it, he would be convinced.
"I doubt it," said Sara, "especially today. Look at this: I have PE, where I can't do anything without a kit, then French and then to top it all off Geography. What have you got?"
"Maths," said Ben, "then English and IT."
"Might be worse than mine," said Sara.
"I like Maths," said Ben.
Sara laughed.
"You would," she said.
Ben let that one go since it had caused Sara to smile.
"We should do something tonight," Sara said suddenly.
"What do you mean?" asked Ben.
"You know," she said, "go out on the town and see what there is to see."
"We already saw most of it on the taxi ride." said Ben, "and anyway you know Tia Maggie probably wouldn't want us going out after dark."
"So, what," said Sara, "we'll tell her we're at an after-school club. You know, Chess Club or something."
"You're going to tell her you're at Chess Club?" said Ben.
"Okay maybe not Chess Club," said Sara, "I'll think of something better. Are you in?"
"I don't know...," said Ben.
"Come on," said Sara, "Like you said we've already seen most of the village. I bet we'll be back before six."
Ben sighed; he could see how this would play out. He would keep saying no, and Sara wouldn't listen. In the end, she would do what she wanted to do and expect Ben just to follow along. Worst of all in the end he would.
The sound of the school bell could be heard ringing in the distance.
"Alright," said Sara, "I guess we better get to our lessons."
She started off, and Ben got up and followed.
"I think yours is down that way Ben," she said pointing in the opposite direction.
Ben stood there for a moment. He knew he had to leave Sara at some point, but he was never going to be ready for it. He looked off in the direction she was pointing, and it seemed to stretch on forever. He would be lost instantly.
"Oh Ben," said Sara, "Look it's only for an hour, and then we have lunch. We'll meet back here okay."
Ben nodded but found it no easier to move. He could feel the tears start to well in his eyes. He tried to fight them back, but this only caused a few gasping sobs.
Sara looked around and then, seeing the coast was clear, gave him a quick hug.
"You got this," she said, "and remember the song I taught you if you get scared."
Ben took a breath and started to sing the song under his breath.
"Cottleston, cottleston, cottleston pie," he sang, "a fly can't bird, but a bird can fly. Ask me a riddle, and I reply, cottleston, cottleston, cottleston pie."
"There you go," said Sara, "knock 'em dead kid."
She gave Ben a parting jab to the shoulder and then, with one last look, walked off around the corner. Ben stood there for a few more minutes waiting for some kind of magical strength that never came. He would have to go on without it.
As he found his way to the main courtyard, he was distressed to see that the crowd of pupils had mostly vanished. They had all flown off to their places with a clockwork finesse that Ben could not be a part of. Instead, he was left to try and figure out these mad mechanisms without even a guidebook.
Ben was alone.