didn't, their uniforms are totally wrong. Dull earth tones? What is that about? Are they trying to become trees or something? I get the whole green thing." She threw up finger quotes to emphasize the word. "But too far is too far. That's what my mom always says. At least that's what she would say if she had any sense."
The girl punched Link playfully on the arm. "You know how moms are, right? Am I right?" She stopped nodding and rolled her eyes. "What am I saying? Of course you do. I mean, you have a mom."
"No," Link said.
"No, you don't know how moms are...or no you don't have a mom? Because that's a pretty major difference." She didn't wait for an answer. She thrust the box of cookies into his hands. Then, without a word, she turned and ran. Only after jumping a three-foot picket fence did she call back, "Good luck with the NGP!"
The NG what? Link watched the girl fade into the distance. When she was gone, he flipped the small box of cookies over and found a yellow sticky note attached to the bottom. It read:
In case I forget to tell you, my name is Celia. If you have any questions about the neighborhood, call me at 555-6767. Toodles.
Toodles? Link shook his head. Who in their right mind used the word toodles? He wasn't sure how long he stood there. Too many thoughts flooded his mind for him to make sense of any of them. Finally, he muttered, "Whatever." And he shut the door.
"What did you say?" Mr. Hartkins asked from the kitchen. Link's dad was a tall man, thin and well groomed, but the way he currently hunched over Ayden, attempting to thread his belt through the loops, made him look awkward and out of place.
"Nothing," Link groaned, "just talking to myself."
"I wish you'd stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Talking to yourself. It's very confusing. How am I supposed to know if you want me to answer?" his dad said as he draped the damp towel on the back of a nearby chair.
Link shrugged. "Please don't invite any more kids over, Dad. I can make friends on my own."
Mr. Hartkins looked up. "What are you talking about? I've got no idea who that girl was. Cute though. She certainly was bouncy."
Link knew his dad meant well. But fourteen-year-olds didn't need their fathers making play dates for them. He turned to leave.
"Forgetting something?" his dad said before he could go.
Link had forgotten about his promise to watch Ayden for the afternoon, but he wasn't about to admit this to his father. He beckoned Ayden to follow. "Let's go, Bug. I'll find something for you to watch downstairs."
Ayden plunged both hands into the front pocket of his oversized green hoodie. His chaotically tousled hair stuck up at random angles, and he smiled one of his goofy, lopsided grins. What Ayden lacked in words, he more than made up for in cheerful enthusiasm.
Before following Link to his room, Ayden looked up and whimpered, "Milty?"
Mr. Hartkins opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish. He clearly wanted to respond, but for the moment, he said nothing. Instead, he squinted and appeared to be scanning his mental archives for anything that matched the word 'milty.' Finally, he said, "Minty to you, too, son," and smiled.
Ayden's lower lip jutted in protest. "Milty, me said. No minty."
Link shook his head. Despite his brother's difficulty speaking, Link had almost always been able to understand him. He patiently retrieved a sippy-cup helping of milk and placed it into the eager hands of his four-year-old brother. "Let's go, kiddo."
"Milty!" Ayden squealed in triumph. Milk in hand, they both moved toward the basement.
"Milty means milk?" Mr. Hartkins said, shaking his head. "I never would've gotten that."
"Dad," Link called once the pair of brothers had reached the bottom of the basement stairs, "stop talking to yourself."
2
Shadows Don't Tear, They Blend
"Lincoln? Are you up yet?" his dad called from the door at the top of the basement steps. "Don't forget that school starts today. I need to get Ayden to daycare. Then I have a meeting with a client at the Windsor House. Do you have my new cell number?" The knocks on the door felt like the punctuation to his questions. "Lincoln?"
The question alone said it all. Of course Link was up. He'd already gone running and had taken a shower. He'd even talked to his father briefly while they'd been eating breakfast at the dining room table. Link ran his fingers through his hair. Then he began tying his shoes.
"Lincoln?"
Link exhaled quietly.
"Lincoln? You know I can't leave until I hear your voice."
"Got it," he said at last.
"Well," his father called, "have a wonderful day, son! And don't worry. I'm sure this school is going to be even better than Shady Elm Academy. Oh, and Ayden says goodbye, too. Or something about fly goo. I'm not totally sure. Anyways, just remember to have fun! And learn, learn, learn."
Link listened as the subtle squeaks of his father's rubber-soled shoes retreated overhead. 'Have fun.' Like that was going to happen. His smiley-faced father might have managed to block out the last year and a half to better fit his "life is what you make it" mantra, but Link hadn't. He clenched his fists without realizing it. Then again, how could things possibly get any worse here than they had been at his last school?
As if in answer to this question, he heard the muted ping of the doorbell upstairs. "What the?? Seriously?" Link muttered.
By the time Link reached the door, he was prepared to give this early morning solicitor a piece of his mind. The front door was paneled with two matching panes of frosted glass surrounded by scroll work. Sunburst cross patterns etched inside the glass allowed a filtered glimpse to the outside. It wasn't much, but it was all he needed to recognize his visitor. Standing on his front porch with a broad smile across her face and a furry backpack in the shape of stuffed bear slung over her shoulder was Celia, the girl from the previous night. He opened the door.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" she said with an impossible glee.
"What are you doing here?" Link asked.
"Standing." Celia pulled her book bag higher onto her shoulder.
"But..."
"I'm only kidding. I know what you meant, silly. I was trying to get you to smile. You do know it takes more muscles to frown, right?" Her smile grew even larger in an obvious attempt to prove her point.
Link stared at her. Was this girl for real? If he was being honest with himself, he had already harbored a sneaking suspicion that he was living someone else's twisted bedtime story. The weirder things got, the more crazy people like Celia that he met, the more convinced he became that his suspicion was true.
"Anyway...Shady Oaks Academy won't wait forever," Celia continued. "I mean it will...probably. Not forever, of course. But a long time. Buildings don't actually travel that much unless there is a flood. But we still need to get going, or we'll be late."
Shady Oaks Academy? His new school was called Shady Oaks Academy? Unbelievable. The only thing that had changed was the type of tree his new school was named after. Link felt a lump rise in the back of his throat. There it was. More proof that this was all some kind of bad joke. He looked up at the sky and shook his head. "Typical."
Celia followed his gaze. "Typical? How do you mean? You don't think it'll rain, do you? If so, we really need to hurry. I positively refuse to go sloshing about in wet clothes on the first day of the new school year. What sort of impression do you think that would make? Hmmm? Anyway, I didn't even bring my?"
"Not what are you doing here," Link said, interrupting her barrage of words and going back to his original question. "I meant, what are you doing here at my house?"
"That's the spirit. Diagramming sentences already. Good for you! Personally, I think grammar is a total snooza-palooza, but I figured someone had to like it. So it is totally wonderful that you do. Besides, it was?"
Link held up his hand to cut her off again. He closed his eyes and rubbed the side of his head. This time he used sharp, biting words punctuated with a dramatic pause between e
ach. "Why-are-you-here?"
"Oh, you mean me personally. Last night at the NGP meeting, your dad told my mom that you'd probably be late to school this morning. Something about you not liking school." She sighed and casually tossed her head back. "But that can't be true. Who doesn't like school? Right? Anyway, I live five blocks over that way," she said, quickly pointing over her shoulder, "so we're basically neighbors. And I figured I'd walk my brand new neighbor to school."
"The NGP?"
"The what now?"
"The NGP. You just said my dad attended a meeting there last night. What is it?"
Celia leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "It's not a place. It's a group. Technically it's the Neighborhood Housing Committee, but I call them the NGP. It's short for Neighborhood Gossip Patrol. The letters don't match, but believe me when I say that it's a far better description. So...are you coming to school or not? I really don't want to get stuck out here if you're expecting rain."
Celia's cheerfulness was exhausting, but Link found he was too tired to argue. Without saying a word, he grabbed his school bag from the closet. Then he closed the door behind him. "Do you always talk this much?"
Celia smiled wide. Her eyes twinkled with pleasure. "That depends. Do you always talk this little?"
Link placed a hand over his stomach when he saw the colonial style schoolhouse. The building stood ominously behind a six-foot cast iron fence that stretched the entire perimeter of the school grounds. As Link scanned his new home, he felt the urge to