On the way out, Evan calls up the hospital again, and is informed that her dad’s still asleep, and so is her mom, who’s gotten out of surgery herself sometime in the last couple of hours - or however long it’s been since we left for Elena’s house. That changes by the time we reach the hospital - the male nurse tells us that Mrs. Michaelsen is awake now, and the girls (except Michelle, of course) go see her immediately. This leaves the rest of us hanging around awkwardly for a while, before Evan returns and says that her mom’s fine, except for the fact that both her arms have been broken.
“You guys don’t need to stay here anymore,” she says. “Thanks for the support, but I think I got it from here.”
“You sure?” I ask. “I dunno ‘bout the others, but I got nothin’ else to do. I can stay here with you if-”
“No, really, it’s okay,” Evan says. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
“We don’t have to go straight home,” Harris says. “There’s a Chipotle down the street. I’m kinda starving right now.”
“I second that,” Michelle says.
“Me too,” I say.
We look at Kevin, but he shrugs and mutters something about having to go back to work.
“It’s okay,” Harris says. “We get it.”
“Can I come with you guys?” Rachel asks, poking her head around Evan with a sad look on her face.
“She needs fuel, desperately,” Evan says. “Something a bit more substantial than vending-machine sweets.”
“I guess that makes four of us,” I say. “If that’s okay with your babysitter, that is.”
“Of course,” Evan says. “I trust you to feed her right now, ‘cause I’m not capable of doing so myself at the moment.”
I smile lightly, then the smile slides away as I give Evan a hug. “I hope your ‘rents get out soon,” I say.
Evan’s hands press against my shoulders and her thumb brushes the back of my neck, sending tiny pinpricks of energy into my skin. “Me too, Jason. Me too.”
The others say their own goodbyes, and then we head out, Kevin going down the street back towards the Spellman Center, while Harris, Rachel, Michelle and I make tracks for the nearby Chipotle. We all get roughly the same burrito - just with steak for me, chicken for Rachel and Michelle, and braised carnitas for Harris. Everyone pays for their own, even Rachel, who insists on doing so herself despite the fact that she barely has enough money.
“Well, isn’t this an odd setup,” Harris says when we find ourselves a table. “Two North Spellman boys, two South Spellman girls.”
Michelle looks at Harris. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re a couple of odd couples, any way you slice it,” Harris says.
Rachel unwraps her burrito with shaking hands, then tears into it, making a huge mess as rice and chunks of chicken fly all around her, getting into Harris’s space as well because she’s sitting directly across the table from him.
“Sorry,” she says, grinning sheepishly - except I’m pretty sure sheep never have pieces of burrito stuck in their teeth.
“Relax,” I say, passing Rachel a napkin. “You’re among friends.”
She gathers up the fallen crumbs and scarfs those down too. “Thanks.”
Michelle rolls her eyes, then starts eating her own burrito as daintily and politely as possible. Finally, she gives up trying to feign her cultured air when Harris and I start chuckling.
“I’d like to see you boys try this,” Michelle grumbles. “It’s a pain, table manners. Something you’re lucky to not need.” She proceeds to take a huge bite of her burrito the way Rachel did, but somehow makes much less mess.
“Why the hell would you need to show good table manners in front of us stupid smelly boys?” I ask.
“Blame it on my upbringing,” Michelle says. “Livin’ with rich parents kinda does that to a girl. My mom’s always sayin’ I might as well have been a boy, with all my interests the way they are.”
“Like Fire arrows?”
“Yeah. Among other things.” Michelle frowns deeply. “What I don’t understand is why my parents insist that I act like a princess. I swear, next thing you know, they’re gonna try arrangin’ marriages to three different guys, none of whom I’d even like.”
“That would really suck,” Harris says. “You really think they’d do that?”
“Who the hell knows?”
Rachel plays with her burrito a bit. “At least your parents would try to help you get a guy. I wanted to get a boyfriend this year, ‘cause Adele and I agreed we’d both have one before we left junior high, but Galadriel wouldn’t let me.”
“Who’s Galadriel?” I ask.
“My foster mother,” Rachel says sadly. “Who’s away on business right now, like she usually is when I might actually need her. That is, if she’s tellin’ the truth.”
I chew on a bit of steak, processing what Rachel has just said. “If she’s always leavin’ you alone, then how come you can’t get a boyfriend? I mean, it’s not like she’s gonna be there to find out, right?”
“That’s the thing,” Rachel says. “She did. It was like, she wasn’t supposed to come back till the day before Halloween, so I brought a boy home with me on the 28th, and the next day she came back and reamed me a new one. I think she’s got hidden cameras in the house or something.” She sighs and puts down her burrito. “Heck, if she knew I was here right now, she’d throw a fit. She doesn’t want me leaving the house unless I’m with Evan and Adele.”
“Do the words ‘psychotic controlling bitch’ mean anything to you?” I ask Harris.
He nods sagely. “Yup. What about the name ‘Norma Bates?’”
“Oh come on,” Michelle says. “I’m sure this Gadreel lady’s not that bad.”
“I blame her for my weirdness,” Rachel says, not even bothering to correct Michelle’s mangling of her foster mother’s name. “If I’d been put with a more motherly mother - like Aunt Irene, say - I probably wouldn’t have the social difficulties I do. Or the personality problems. A typical little girl I’m not.”
As if to emphasize that point, she tears another huge chunk off her burrito, again forcing us to take a bunch of napkins to her section of the table.
“How often do you get to get out of the house, then?” Harris asks after handing Rachel an extra napkin to take care of her face.
“Not much,” she says. “Last time I was out of the house more than one day in a row was, I dunno, Adele’s eleventh birthday? Uncle Aidan and Aunt Irene took me to dinner with Adele and Evan that Friday, and then the next day we went to the movies with some of Adele’s friends, saw Wreck-It Ralph.”
“That’s cool,” I say. “Good movie. It’s my little brother’s favorite.”
“I need to meet your little brother, then,” Rachel says, chuckling slightly.
“You’ll like him,” I say. “He sure took a shine to Evan.”
“Oh, did he think she was your girlfriend too?”
“Can’t imagine what gives everyone that impression,” I say.
To my right, Harris snorts into his carnitas. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”
“Your chemistry is too obvious,” Michelle says. “A more flutter-hearted girl than I might say she was jealous of Evan.”
“Is that a roundabout way of sayin’ you want Jason?” Rachel asks.
“Yeah, didn’t you say you wanted a sensitive boy to balance you out?” Harris asks.
Michelle rolls her eyes. “One of these days, I might just put arrows in your kneecaps. All. Of. You.” She glares at each one of us in turn while she says those last words.
“So you’d be like an arrow-toting Mr. Reese, right?” I ask.
Harris raises his fist. “Good one, dude.”
I return the fist-bump. “Thanks.”
“Wait, there’s a Mr. Reese in Skyrim?” Michelle asks.
“It’s not a Skyrim joke,” I say. “That was done to death ages ago.”
“Well, then explain the reference so I know who I’d be emulating!”
I laugh, wagging my finger at Michelle. “Didn’t I say just yesterday it’s rude to make references those around you won’t understand?”
“Exactly! So explain it!” A manic grin spreads across Michelle’s face.
“Do you remember why I said that yesterday?”
Michelle’s grin expands. “Oh yeah. The Day of the Thousand Ice Flechettes.”
“Yeah,” I say, matching Michelle’s expression as best I can. “Kevin’s not here, and I’m pretty sure I’d be better off fearin’ you than him. So feel free to make him look as foolish as you can.”
“Oh, you bet I will,” Michelle says, clapping her hands. “Okay. So about a year ago, Kevin and I were practicing our powers out by Laguna Lisa. He froze the water and used that on me while I used Fire arrows on him.”
“What happened?”
“Most of the time, he just kept usin’ the Ice as a shield against my arrows. But then he broke up the Ice wall and turned into this big cloud of flechettes - you know, little needle things?”
“We know,” I say.
“I didn’t,” says Rachel.
“Yeah, those,” says Michelle. “Okay, so now I had to do a big wall of Fire to protect myself, and it was big! Kevin came this close” - she holds two fingers so closely, they might as well be together for the millimeter or so of space between them - “to pissing his pants. I’m reasonably sure he actually did, a bit.
“But the best part is, he actually jumped into the water to get away,” Michelle adds. “And did I mention it was the middle of January?”
“Even for an Ice, he must have been freezing his ass off,” Harris says, laughing as hard as I am. Has he not heard this story either? I think Rachel has - she’s not laughing as much. But then again, she didn’t know what flechettes were. She is entitled to not be in a humorous mood right now, though, so I’m not gonna press the issue with her.
“He survived, obviously,” Michelle says, “but his pride didn’t.”
“Too bad,” I say. “I so wanted to be afraid of him.”
“You can still be afraid of him, as long as you don’t tell him I told you.”
“What did you tell me again?”
Michelle smirks. “Exactly. Now, I feel a bit weird that Rachel and I are the only ones who talked about our issues. What about you boys?”
I look awkwardly at Harris. “Erm…”
“Well?” Michelle asks. “Don’t tell me you North Spellman Dark boys don’t have problems in your lives!”
“Who says we don’t?” Harris says.
“Maybe we’re just not as willing to talk about it,” I say.
“Well, that’s not fair,” Michelle laughs, putting down her burrito as well so she won’t make a mess either. “How would you ever be good boyfriends to any girl if you don’t open up?”
Rachel frowns down at her burrito. “I dunno. They listened to what we had to say. I’ve always heard that the best boyfriends are the ones who listen to your troubles.”
“An excellent point,” Harris says.
“But they should also give in addition to receiving,” Michelle points out.
“We did,” I say. “We heard your stories, and we gave you our undivided attention.”
“Another excellent point,” Harris says. “I do believe your argument is now invalid, Michelle.”
Michelle clenches her fists. “The Lord is testing me.”
“Didn’t know you believed in the Lord,” Harris jokes.
“I don’t trust anyone else to ensure my arrows fly the right way, do I?” Michelle says. “Well, obviously, I have to trust myself, but I don’t count.”
“Of course you don’t count,” I say. “‘Cause God knows if we counted ourselves for anything, the whole system would break!”
Rachel frowns, raising one eyebrow. “It wouldn’t really, would it?”
“No,” I say. “Don’t worry. The system isn’t that fragile.”
“But it is broken,” Harris says. “So be very careful.”
Rachel grumbles under her breath. “I’m so confused! And I’m feelin’ a lot less hungry now.” She slides her burrito down the table to Michelle, who finishes off the last inch and a half or so for her, then returns to her own burrito and consumes the rest of it.
I scarf down the last bits of mine as well. “Thanks for suggesting this, Harris. Good idea.”
Harris finishes his too. “Are you tryin’ to say you’ve never been here before?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Got a problem with that?”
“Not now that I’ve fixed that situation for you,” Harris says.
Michelle stands up and burps. “Whoops, sorry about that,” she says, laughing and barely even blushing.
“No worries,” Rachel says. “Adele is a hundred times worse than you.”
“I’ll take that challenge,” Michelle says. “Um, do you guys need a ride?”
“No thanks,” I say.
“Yeah, I’m good too,” Harris says.
“Okay,” says Michelle. “I’ll just walk Rachel back to her cousins, and then I’ll drive home. You absolutely sure about that?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I say.
Harris and I say goodbye to the girls, then we start walking. We end up going the same way most of the time, at least until I reach my turnoff - Harris keeps going further north on Spellman Boulevard.
While we walk, though, we talk about our split-power situations. “I honestly have no idea who in my family I could be inheriting Ice powers from,” I say. “And you know what else is funny? It seems like it only works if I’ve been touching Evan in some way.”
“That must be a weird coincidence,” Harris says. “Have you tried touching Kevin to see if it works the same way with him?” He asks this in the most deadpan voice imaginable.
“No.”
“Good,” Harris says. “Who knows where that guy’s been.”
“Haha. But seriously, isn’t it weird that this is happening when I get close to Evan?” I frown. “I mean, I feel like I’m usin’ her.”
“You sorta are-”
“Thanks for makin’ me feel better.”
“Let me finish,” Harris says, holding up his hand. “You sorta are usin’ her, but only if what you’re sayin’ is true. That you only get Ice powers from touchin’ her.”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I saw this thing online that said-”
“And just ‘cause it’s online doesn’t make it true,” Harris says. “Look, I dunno what to say here, ‘cept maybe this - I’ve never had to leach my Fire powers off anyone else, ever. They’ve just been there.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m sayin’ it might just be a coincidence,” Harris says. “Look, I have no idea if I’m just a fluke with my powers, or if you are, or what. But I have an idea that maybe you can do Ice powers without Evan’s help.”
“Really? How?”
Harris rubs his hands together to warm them up, creating a few small sparks. “I’ll show you after school tomorrow. I gotta get back to the shop, otherwise I’d take you back to my place and try it out right now.”
I laugh as I replay that sentence in my head. “If someone were to take that out of context, it might sound really dirty.”
“Anything can sound really dirty, no matter if it’s in or out of context,” Harris says. “We just all have major gutter minds.”
“True,” I say. “Well, here’s where I get off.”
“That sounds hella dirty too.”
“I know,” I say. “But it’s true. This is where I get off. This street.”
“Okay,” Harris says. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, see ya,” I say, making to shake Harris’s hand and ending up pulled into one of those half-handshake, half-hug gestures.
When I get home, Dad and Jeremy have just gotten back and are unloading the bags of things they’ve picked up during today’s shopping expedition. Food is in there, plus a few scattered items of clothing, presumably picked out by Jeremy for Christmas gifts - but I see at least one new black hoodie that looks just about my size. Jeremy catches my eye and surreptitiously hides this hoodie from view, whispering “Shhh!”
I nod to Jeremy, then keep walking.
“Jason? Could you give me a hand?” Dad asks. “I’ve still got all these bags in the car.”
“Sure.”
“That’s a nice jacket,” Dad says as I step past him and into the garage. “Where’d you get it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”
I trip a bit in my beflusterment. “Um...uh...it’s, uh, it’s Evan’s,” I say quickly, not looking at Dad as I grab a bag from the back of his truck.
“Really?” he asks. “She must be a tall girl if her jacket fits you so well.”
“Sort of,” I say.
“I mean, sure, it looks tight in the shoulder,” Dad says. “But isn’t that the fashion these days? Anything to enhance your sex appeal for this girl, right?”
I laugh loudly as I remember Harris saying something very similar about his new hoodie.
“I hope you at least lent her yours as well,” Dad adds. “A little give and take to start this relationship off right, yes?”
“Um...yeah. Yeah, I did.” I carry the bag inside, then leave the room as quickly as I can. I feel bad lying to Dad, but I also feel like it’s a necessary evil. I mean, I can’t exactly trust anyone with the information that I’ve been secretly drafted into a team of untrained teenage security guards, pretty much. Any reasonable parent, Dad included, would have a few choice cuss words to say about that.
“Is your girlfriend okay?” Jeremy asks me. I look up and notice him in my room for the first time.
“She’s not the one who got hurt,” I say.
“Oh yeah,” Jeremy says, shuffling his feet.
“Don’t do that,” I say.
“What? This?” Jeremy scuffs his shoes against my floor. “Dude, just ‘cause you don’t like shoes doesn’t mean you gotta crusade against it. Ruins the fun for the rest of us.”
“I don’t not like-”
“And one more thing,” Jeremy says. “I know you just lied your ass off to Dad.”
My blood freezes. “You...what?”
“Hey, he doesn’t know what Evan looks like,” Jeremy continues. “But I do. No way could that hoodie fit both her and you.”
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing,” Jeremy says. “I mean, unless you’re, like, stealing stuff or something…?”
I sigh heavily. I don’t know why I’m having less trouble telling Jeremy the truth. But maybe it’s because I always wanted to tell him first anyway.
“Okay,” I say. “But you gotta promise to keep it a secret.”
“I swear on my blood,” Jeremy says.
“No need to get that heavy, little dude,” I say, holding up one hand in a “metal horns” gesture. Dark power flows from my two upraised fingers, and Jeremy does the same thing. A spark of energy fires off as our powered hands touch, completing the Dark bond.
“Here’s my secret,” I say, using my left hand to create a small flurry of Ice in the middle of the room.
“Whoa,” Jeremy says, awestruck just like Harris was. “Why is that a secret, Jay?”
“‘Cause bad people might think I’m a freak,” I say.
“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m six,” Jeremy says. “But I get what you mean. I don’t think that’s freakish. It’s totally cool. Wish I could do that.” He waves his hands, trying to do the same thing, but only manages to coat my walls with a thin layer of Dark energy.
“You’re cleanin’ that, by the way,” I say. “And that’s also why I got this new hoodie. It’s specially enhanced to help me with my power.”
“Can I get one too?” Jeremy asks. “It really does look cool.”
“You have to have double powers first,” I say. “Maybe wait a couple years.”
Jeremy laughs, then looks up at me. “Dude, don’t worry. I really won’t tell anyone.”
“Between us?”
“Between us.” Jeremy hugs me, his arms barely able to wrap around my midsection. “I can tell it means a lot to you.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I say, ruffling his hair. “But I wasn’t kidding. You’re cleanin’ up that mess.”
“Not if you don’t catch me first!” Jeremy yells, breaking away and racing out of my room faster than I would have believed possible for a pint-sized little dude like himself.