Amanda hit the alarm clock harder than was necessary and stumbled up out of her tiny single bed. She stretched, being careful not to bump her head on the steep dormer ceiling of her bedroom. Her back ached. I am an old woman, she thought with a scowl. An old woman of sixteen. She glared down at the too-soft mattress that she blamed for her aching back.

I will get used to it. She would too. This happened every spring and every fall. Amanda Burnson spent most of the summer traveling with her Uncle Darren, going to every Renaissance faire, pagan festival, and craft show in the upper Midwest. She and her younger brother Hunter would bunk up in the back of Uncle Darren's truck or pitch a tent. The first week of sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag would make her back ache, and then she would adjust.

In the fall they came home to Dubuque, Iowa, and to the little cabin on the edge of town that Uncle Darren owned. The first few nights on a soft bed would be almost as hard on her back as the ground had been. Then she would adjust.

She stumbled out of her bedroom and started down the narrow stairway, nearly slipping. She braced herself against the wall to keep from falling and found her footing again. Navigating stairs while half awake was just another adjustment she would have to make.

Downstairs she let herself into their tiny bathroom and pulled the hook-and-eye lock together. She pulled the faded nightgown over her head and opened her eyes long enough to inspect herself in the mirror. She was greeted by a mass of curly, black hair and a pale round face. It frowned at her.

She squinted at the upper left corner of her mouth. Was there a dark hair sprouting there? Gods, that's supposed to be old women! Sixteen-year-old girls don't sprout mustache hair. She found a pair of tweezers in the medicine cabinet and savagely plucked the offending hair. The stinging pain shot through her lip and woke her up. She glared at the reflection. It serves you right, she told her body. You sprout more hair and I will do it again.

A sports bra and a pair of white cotton granny panties joined the nightgown on the floor of the bathroom. She had sexier underwear, but wearing anything much fancier seemed a pointless gesture with her excess body weight. Maybe after she lost . . . oh, forty pounds or so. That might be possible now, she encouraged herself. The summer faire lifestyle featured way too many turkey legs and too much fried foods to think she would be able to lose any weight. But now that they were home and school was starting, she could watch what she ate, and she could lose the weight.

She carefully removed her leather necklace and hung it on a hook next to the towel. Dangling from the end of the necklace was an oval of elk horn bearing a crudely carved rune. It was a protective sign carved by her father and enchanted by her mother. It hadn't protected either of her parents, but then again, it wasn't meant for them. Amanda and Hunter had escaped the house fire. Her parents died in it. Maybe they should have made runes for each other instead.

The shower ran cold, but it was August, and in Iowa this time of year, it was already hot and sticky even this early in the morning. She quickly washed her hair, trying to bring some semblance of order to the thick, black mass. She wasn't sure if she was succeeding.

She got out of the shower and started drying off with a ragged old towel. When she was reasonably dry, she dug through the medicine cabinet again, looking for the new deodorant she had bought yesterday. She sniffed the top of the stick and then her underarm. She caught an acrid smell and scowled. She looked at the shower. Did she have time to get back in? She didn't know. She found a washcloth, ran the tap, and scrubbed both pits with soap and water. When she was done, she raised her right arm and sniffed again. Better. She scowled at the thick, black hair under her armpits. She would have to shave her underarms again soon, but not this morning. She smeared the deodorant under her arms and hoped it would last the day. So far she had yet to find a brand that completely cut through the odor her body insisted on producing, along with the copious amounts of hair it seemed to want to grow everywhere.

She found her brush, wrapped her towel around herself, and left the bathroom. "Hunter!" she yelled up the staircase, "time to get up!"

Hunter didn't respond, but Uncle Darren groaned in the downstairs bedroom. "Some parents get up and see their kids off to school you know," she shouted in at him.

"Yeah, yeah," he responded grumpily. "Your point is?" Despite the grumpy voice she heard the floorboards creak under his weight and his bedroom door open. He padded across the living /dining room and came into view.

Darren Burnson was six foot five inches tall. His blond hair was laced with gray. The hair on his head reached halfway down his back, and his beard reached to his hairy chest. He wore nothing but a pair of boxers. He regarded her sleepily.

"You look like a Wookie," she told him.

He threw his head back and began to make Wookie noises while tossing his hands about.

"Dork," she said and went up the stairs. She banged on the closed door beside hers and yelled at Hunter again.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, echoing his uncle. "I'm awake."

She went into her room and shut the door. She brushed her hair until she had most of the tangles out and then, worrying about the time, quickly got dressed in jeans and a faded t-shirt.

When she went back downstairs, Hunter was just coming out of the bathroom. "You can't wear chainmail to school," said their uncle in a serious tone. Uncle Darren had a barter arrangement with several Renaissance outfitters and the chainmail shirt had been Hunter's end-of-summer gift. He had worn it for three straight days.

"Aww, why not?" Hunter said. He turned and started up the stairs.

"No Ren clothes period," Amanda called after him. "Regular clothes only." The last thing she needed was for him to show up to his first day of middle school in some Renaissance costume and get pegged a weirdo. Hunter had no clue how cruel middle school kids could be, and Amanda did not want to spend the next three years constantly defending her kid brother from bullies. I do enough of that for Jay, she thought.

Hunter stomped up the stairs to his room, and Amanda went into the dining room. To her right she could hear Uncle Darren shuffling around the tiny kitchen at the back of the house. She looked in as he set a cast-iron skillet on the stove and fired it up. "Bacon and eggs," he said cheerfully. "Breakfast of champions." About half a package of bacon went into the skillet. Amanda rolled her eyes. She would start her new diet at school, she decided.

She sat at the dining room table and pulled the brush through her hair again, trying to get the last of the tangles out. Her uncle came in with a cutting board laden with whole-wheat bread that he had baked in the mud oven in front of their house. He sat the loaf and a mason jar filled with honey in front of her and went back into the kitchen.

By the time Hunter was dressed and back, Uncle Darren had bacon and fried eggs on the table. Hunter found his seat and started shoveling bacon on his plate greedily. "Save some for your sister," Uncle Darren told him.

How does he eat so much and stay so thin? Amanda groused to herself. Hunter was a short, scrawny kid, but he shared Amanda's bushy, dark hair and round face. She knew how he stayed so thin, she thought while watching him eat: he was constantly active. He loved anything to do with the outdoors and rarely sat still for more than a few minutes. In fact, his foot quickly started banging out a rhythm against the table leg as he stuffed bacon into his mouth.

"Slow down. You are going to choke," she warned him.

"You don't have to baby me," he grumbled.

"Yeah I do," she said and ruffled his hair. They shared a look, but neither spoke for some time. When they had both eaten she said, "Anyway we need to get going. The middle school isn't too far out of my way. I will walk you there before heading to the high school."

Hunter dutifully crammed one last bite of fried egg into his mouth and followed her into the living room. She stepped out on their front porch and looked around. Home for the Burnsons was a century-old farmhouse that had once been in the country outside of Dubuque, but the city had grown to their doorstep. Only a steep bluff behind the house prevented the city from completely encompassing them. It left their house wedged in behind the town. The street leading to their house ended at a T with the last crossroad. Access to the Burnson's house was via an access road that led to a narrow alleyway behind the final set of houses. Many people didn't even realize it was there.

From the porch, they could look out and see the tops of houses and city buildings farther down toward the Mississippi River. Behind the house was nothing but deep woods. She could see the stack of firewood just to the side of the porch and a hint of the earthen stove beyond that. The house itself looked much as it had a century ago when it had been built.

"C'mon squirt," she said to Hunter and held her hand out for him. He took it, and they went down into the city of Dubuque.

A few blocks from home, she saw a man coming toward them down the street. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties with a stooped posture. He was dressed in tan dress slacks and a green paisley button-down shirt that looked like it came off the very back of the rack at the cheapest thrift store in town. He was carrying some sort of case, and his eyes shifted back and forth from house to house as he shuffled down the street.

Amanda felt a nervous pit open in her stomach as the man got closer. He gave off a sleazy sort of impression. Is he some sort of door-to-door salesman? Do they still have those?

His eyes slid over her, and she shivered. She gripped Hunter's hand tighter and moved slightly to the side as they passed. She wished she could have crossed the street, but that would have been rude. Besides, it was broad daylight. What could happen?

After they'd passed each other, she heard him sniff the air loudly. Stopping and turning, she discovered he had stopped and turned as well. Their eyes met for a split second, and then she turned away quickly. She gripped Hunter's hand even tighter and hurried on.

Amanda had managed to shake off the bad vibe by the time they got to the middle school. She gave Hunter one last admonishment to behave and asked if he remembered where his home room was.

"Of course," he assured her and made for the middle school building without a backward glance.

"Amanda!" a voice called out in a high sing-song pitch. She looked back to see Jay Toumi approaching. He was about her height but scrawny. He had bright-blond hair that he wore shaggy. He was wearing skin-tight blue jeans and a black-and-white t-shirt that flared slightly at the bottom.

He was coming toward her skipping, hand in hand with someone Amanda had never seen before. She remembered now that Jay had mentioned that he had met a new friend over the summer.

The friend-Amanda couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl yet, and she couldn't remember from what Jay had told her-was about Jay's height with hair cropped short and dyed bright purple. The friend was wearing overalls and a faded t-shirt. Boy? Girl? Amanda scrunched up her face, trying to guess.

In a moment Jay was there. He dropped his friend's hand and wrapped his arms around Amanda. "Amanda," he said again, "my bestie!"

She returned the hug and said quietly in his ear, "I think that's a girl's t-shirt."

"I can wear whatever I want," Jay replied primly.

"Of course you can," she replied with a smile. And I will spend half the year arguing with every bully in the school on your behalf, again. Still Jay couldn't help who he was, and they had been best friends for many years. "And who is this?" she said out loud.

The other person held out a hand and said something quickly and in a strange accent that Amanda couldn't quite follow. "Umm, was that Courtney or Corey?" she asked as she returned the handshake.

"Yes," the friend replied brightly.

"Oh, you are awful," Jay said with a laugh. "It's Corey."

Amanda looked Corey over. Close up, she could tell that Corey had sizable breasts, but she kept that observation to herself. After all, she knew Jay had been talking to transgender people online and was considering coming out as such himself. She assumed Corey must be a female-to-male transgender. It seemed odd that Jay had found another trans person in Dubuque, though. It was a small, fairly conservative city. Besides she thought she knew every kid their age by sight at least.

"Now of course Corey is genderqueer," Jay went on, "so if Corey is wearing girl's clothes then he's Courtney."

"And she?" Amanda said.

"Yeah, Courtney's genderqueer too," Corey said with a mischievous grin.

"Are you from around here?" Amanda asked.

Jay answered for Corey. "That's the best part yet," he said happily. "Corey's parents just moved down from northern Michigan. Mom and Dad are letting them build a cabin on our property so they can get settled." Jay's parents were neo-pagans and organic farmers that had acreage on the edge of town.

Now I will have two people to defend from the bullies, Amanda thought as she looked at Corey. But as Jay's hand slid into Corey's again and a sly smile played across his face, she couldn't help but think that it was worth it to see her best friend finally have someone else who understood him. As the three of them turned to walk to school, a pang of jealousy shot through her. Even Jay had managed to find someone. Where did that leave Amanda? The loveless wonder, the ultimate outsider. She scowled and pushed the thought down.

Hempstead High School was just a few blocks away. As they approached, a school bus slid by them, kids yelling out the window at them. Amanda and Jay both lived far enough from the school to qualify to ride the bus, barely. Looking at the yellow prison of screaming kids, she shuddered. No thank you.

They stopped about a block away and looked at the school. It was nearly time, and they couldn't pause for long.

"Hempstead High, home of the Mustangs," Jay said. His face was looking pale now, fear showing briefly in his eyes. He swallowed and said with bravado, "Go Hoof Prints!"

"Let's hope there aren't too many on our backs when it's over," Amanda grumbled.

"Is it that bad?" Corey asked.

Jay just shrugged. "Naw," he said, "I mean there are a lot of rednecks. They say stuff about people like me, but it usually doesn't go beyond talk." He leaned in and whispered, loud enough for Amanda to hear. "If it does, Amanda beats them up." He gave an impish smile and giggled.

She hit him on the shoulder, not hard. "Shut up," she said. It was true. She always seemed to be the one who had to stand up for Jay. In elementary school, she had faced down and beat up the bullies more than once.

It was one more strike on a long list of things that made her undateable. If it wasn't bad enough that she was overweight, hairy, and had a pungent sweat that no deodorant could contain, who wanted to date the girl that routinely threw you into a mud puddle in elementary school?

"It will be better this year," Jay said suddenly.

"You think?" Amanda replied sarcastically.

"I am here," Corey said, taking his hand.

It might be different for you, Amanda thought sourly, but I think it will be twice the trouble for me.

Jay looked at her and, as if guessing her thoughts, blushed and looked away. "Well, let's go."

As they mounted the stairs, a boy ran by and said to Jay, "Why don't you go home and cry, little emo boy?"

Jay put his hands up to the side of his eyes and made an exaggerated crying gesture. "Oh wah, I have to be myself in a school full of posers and fakes, wah, wah." He mock-cried and then stuck his tongue out at the retreating back. Corey chuckled. A few onlookers chuckled as well, and a few scowled.

The morning went well enough. Most of it was taken up with an assembly. Principal Higgs droned on for over forty-five minutes about the importance of school and treating each other with respect. As if a lecture will help, Amanda thought.

She felt someone bump her on the back and turned to see Jenny Davidson leaning forward conspiratorially between her and Jay. Jenny was dressed in a black cami with far too much cleavage. About a half dozen silver pendants hung at her neck, and she wore several bracelets.

Jenny had a book in her hand and was extending it discreetly to Amanda. The book was A Green Witch's Guide to Wicca. Amanda exchanged a look with Jay that said poser. He snorted. Moments later, her phone vibrated.

Goth girl takes up witchcraft. Jay had texted to Amanda. That will shock everyone, I am sure.

"I just thought you might find it interesting, since you are pagan and all," Jenny said to Amanda.

"Umm, yeah, it looks cool." Amanda said, not wanting to be rude. She wished she hadn't been so open about her family's beliefs before. Not that she had much choice. She had gotten into a near-screaming match with her PE teacher last year over the runic necklace she wore. He thought it was a symbol of evil or something, and before she knew it she was angrily lecturing him about earth-based religions, land spirits, and the old faith. That time, it was Jay who had saved her.

"It's the only thing she has left from her parents," he had said quietly to the teacher. "Don't make her take it off."

The teacher dropped the subject, but she caught him scowling in her direction for the rest of the year. He went to some real conservative church, she later found out, and he believed her parents were into some sort of dark, Satan-worship cult or something.

Amanda knew many people who described themselves as witches. They worshipped the old gods in private and took the Craft, as they called it, every bit as serious as Christians took their religion. They were good people, ethical people who would never break the 'rede': as long as it harm none.

And she knew plenty of young people like Jenny. Girls who thought it was neat and rebellious to call themselves witches. They played at doing spells and wishing for things.

But for Amanda, being pagan mostly meant traveling a lot. It also meant you celebrated the solstices and the changing of the seasons instead of traditional holidays. Christmas for them was Yule for her. But mostly it was travel. "Summer Solstice is at Jacob's farm this year," Darren would say, and they would pile in the truck for a three-hour drive. "Fall equinox is at the Gaea Retreat Center in Kansas." A six-hour drive with two stops along the way to visit organic farms, herb shops, or some other pagan shop along the way.

Being pagan meant you had more friends at the Minnesota Renaissance Faire than you had at school. It meant that while the other kids were at home getting to know each other, you were at some campground miles away. It meant that when you needed your "clique" the most, they were hundreds of miles away at another school.

Except Jay, she reminded herself looking over at him. Jay's mom was one of those people who took the Craft very seriously. She taught classes for those interested and had a coven to which she belonged. When they couldn't travel for one reason or another, the Burnson clan would often join the Toumi's on their land for celebrations.

"Your mom have this one?" Amanda asked Jay, handing the book over. Let him answer a million questions from the wannabe witch.Amanda had a life to live.

"Your mom?" Jenny said in an awed voice. "She's a . . .?"

"Yeah, for years," Jay said.

"That's so cool," Jenny gushed. "My mom would kill me if she knew."

The sound of hundreds of students rising and moving toward the exit interrupted their conversation. Amanda wondered briefly what had been said in the last half of the assembly. Jay passed the book back with a promise to talk to Jenny some more later.

Corey was in the same first period algebra as Amanda. He nearly had a fight with the teacher over his name. First it was his last name. The teacher stumbled over it several times, "Kalli . . . Kalli-o-o . . ."

"Kalliokoski," Corey interrupted. "It's Finnish."

"Oh, I see Miss Courtney."

"Corey," he corrected.

"What?" the teacher asked.

"Corey, I go by Corey."

The teacher checked her list again. "It says Courtney here."

"I know, that's my given name, but I go by Corey."

"It says Courtney here," the teacher insisted again.

Corey shrugged. "Other people have nicknames," he replied.

"Gender-appropriate nicknames," the teacher qualified.

Corey plucked one of the straps on his overalls. "Corey is appropriate to the gender I am currently presenting in."

A nervous laugh rippled through the class.

"Be that as it may," the teacher said icily, "it says Courtney here." She tapped the sheet. "If you want to talk to the office about your name at some later time, that's your choice." She read the next name on the list, ignoring Corey.

Amanda, whose assigned seat placed her near the front, looked back at Corey. Corey's face was red and his lips tight. Amanda gave him a sympathetic shrug, as if to say, "What can you do?"

All of the morning classes had been shortened to accommodate the assembly, and the next two classes passed in a vague blur. Coming out of third-period social studies class, Amanda slammed into another student and went down in a flurry of books and notebooks.

"Oh, I am sorry. I wasn't paying attention," he said quickly and stooped to help her up. "You okay?"

She looked up into a dark, intent face, and her heart stopped. He blushed and looked away. He began to gather her books. His face was angular and lean, having lost any trace of baby fat. His body was lean too, but with broad shoulders and a muscular look.

She recognized him instantly, and yet there was something so different about him. "Connor?" she muttered.

He turned back to her, holding out a stack of papers. "Yeah," he said, and a smile played across his face. She just stared at him in shock. Was Connor Leidulf smiling at her? Did he recognize her? Surely he must.

Another boy strolled by and said, "Connor, you coming?"

"Yeah. Sorry, Amanda. I gotta go." He rose and followed the other boy down the hallway.

Amanda looked at the stack of notebooks and papers in her hands then down the hall at his retreating back. What had happened to Connor? All throughout middle school-heck even the last couple of years-he had been known as Spaz Boy. His face seemed to be forever lined with a sarcastic sneer, and he always seemed on the verge of anger. The smallest of snide comments would send him into a rage. She had never seen him smile before, not at her or anyone for that matter.

Jay and Corey were in her lunch period. They had brought their own lunches. Actually Jay had made lunch for both of them. "There's enough for three," he said. "If you want."

She eyed the lunch line and asked, "What is it?"

"Whole-grain sushi with millet and sunflower seeds," he replied cheerfully.

"You really were raised by hippies, weren't you?" she said, laughing.

"And you were raised by the mountain man," he replied without rancor. "Don't let her fool you," he said to Corey, "the only reason she doesn't brown-bag it is because her uncle would probably pack her a slab of elk meat and call it lunch."

"Uncle?" Corey asked.

"Yeah," Jay said. "Amanda's parents died when she was young."

"I am sorry," Corey said.

"It's okay. Fine, let's get a seat," she said, deciding she didn't want to brave the lunch line on the first day and whatever whole wheat sushi Jay had made would at least be healthy food. "And let's not bring up elementary school please."

"What about elementary school?" Corey asked.

"Third-grade field trip," Jay explained, ignoring her request. "It was her first year in Dubuque. Uncle Darren's idea of a bag lunch was four strips of bison jerky and a loaf of bread big enough to feed the whole class." He hugged Amanda's arm affectionately. "That's how we met, remember?"

"A couple of bullies stole your lunch," she said.

"And you shared your bread with me," he said. "Besides those kids were just a couple of loners with poor social skills."

She shook her head. Leave it to Jay, the ultimate optimist. Amanda remembered him getting pushed down and his lunch taken; he remembered how it led to meeting a new friend.

Thinking of loners, she saw Connor walk past with a lunch tray. He was talking to the same sandy-haired kid who had called to him in the hallway. She had always thought of Connor as a loner. Apparently he had found a friend over the summer too, and it seemed to have changed his attitude, for the better. The two sat down at a table next to a girl. She was stunning, tall with long, blond hair held up in a ponytail. She was lean and athletic with a gorgeous face to boot. She looked up at the boys and smiled broadly. Friends, Connor had made friends. Amanda wondered what had happened to change him so much in one summer?

Amanda made it through the rest of the day almost entirely without incident. There was one muttered comment that sounded like "smelly" but otherwise nothing. She considered that a rousing success. Neither Jay or Corey had done so well. Words like "freak" and "fag" followed them out the building and down the street as the three of them walked home. Jay seemed uncharacteristically unfazed by the comments, and Corey took them as a badge of honor. He proudly told Amanda each name he had been called and how he had responded.

The two parted ways with Amanda just after they passed the middle school. She had momentarily considered checking on Hunter to see if he was still at school, but middle school classes let out almost ten minutes earlier than high school, and he was no doubt home already by now. Indeed, as she came in the front door, he was already in the living room playing on his Nintendo DS. He barely spared her a second glance.

A pile of packages wrapped in butcher paper sat on the kitchen table. An E was crudely drawn in grease pen across each of them. She thought of Jay's comment at lunch. Figures, elk steak for supper. She went into the kitchen and pulled out a package of frozen corn. She found a notepad they used for grocery lists and wrote on it: "Parents make their kids eat veggies." She put that and the corn on the table next to the thawing steaks.

She went up to her room and lay on her bed. She thought about how her first day of school had gone. It would take the bullies and losers a few days to get bored with the school routine and really start their taunting, but today hadn't been half bad. A few muttered comments she could live with.

On the plus side, a sort-of-cute boy had smiled at her. On the negative-or at least perplexing-side, that cute boy had been Connor. Maybe by tomorrow, he will back to his usual self, all sneers and cutting remarks. He can't possibly have changed for good in just a few months.

Also on the negative, everyone seemed to have found new friends except her. Even Jay had found someone. More than just a friend too, she had discovered on the way home. They were boyfriend and girlfriend. Or boyfriend and boyfriend, or maybe Jay was the girlfriend. Genderqueer and gender variant . . . trying to wrap her head around it gave her a migraine. Oh well, they seemed happy, and Corey seemed like a nice kid.

Lots of new faces this year-typical urban shake up. A lot of the parents rented, and they moved every few years. Enrico in her first period was familiar from elementary school, but for most of middle school, his parents had been living closer to the river, so he had been going to Dubuque Senior instead.

Some of the kids were really new. In last period, she met a girl named Erica, tall with short dark hair and an athletic build. From somewhere in Northern Minnesota-and vague about why she had moved-she was laid back and seemed friendly enough.

Then there was the blond that Connor had sat with. Amanda was pretty sure she had never seen her before. A girl that beautiful could not have gone to their school for more than a day without everyone knowing who she was. In fact, she'd heard some boys in fourth period asking about "the hot blond."

She shrugged the thought off and dug into her bag for The Great Gatsby. It was assigned reading. Mrs. Horner apparently thought that since there was a movie out, it would attract students' interest. Amanda wasn't so sure, and she was less sure about having homework assigned the very first day.

After forcing her way through the first two chapters of The Greats Gatsby, Amanda put the book away and went back downstairs. The elk steaks had been unwrapped and were now soaking in a marinade. The note and the package of frozen corn had disappeared and been replaced by a colander brimming with leaves. The back door hung ajar, and she could hear Uncle Darren out there.

She stepped out and leaned against the door jamb. He was bent over the grill, checking the coals by placing one hand close to them. He was wearing a faded green t-shirt and a kilt. His feet were bare. He glanced up at her and said, "Eat your vegetables."

She snorted. "Weeds, you mean."

"Weeds are vegetables," he said with a dismissive shrug, "and we don't eat the frozen veggies while we have a full crop growing in our backyard. Can you grab the steaks? I think these coals are hot enough."

Amanda went back and brought out the bowl. Darren pulled the steaks out with a long fork and laid them across the grill. "How was school?" he asked.

Amanda found an old wooden chair on the back porch and sat. "It was okay."

"Just okay?"

She shrugged. "Not as bad as I feared, how's that?"

"I didn't know you were afraid of school," he said.

"I am not; it's just I don't care for the people who go there," Amanda said, adding, "and they don't care for me either."

"What makes you think that?"

"They say so."

He gave her a concerned look.

"It's just teasing," she said, not wanting to have him decide to take too personal of interest in her school life. Uncle Darren showing up there would not help her reputation at all, she was sure. "Anyway it wasn't so bad today, and maybe it won't be so bad this year either. Hey, Jay has a new friend."

"Friend?" he asked, putting a special emphasis on the word.

"I think so," she said.

He paused and then said, "And what gender would this friend be?"

"Umm," she hesitated, "I am not really sure how to answer that."

Her uncle raised an eyebrow.

"Corey is kind of like Jay, but the other way around." Amanda explained.

"Other way around?"

"Yeah, his real name is Courtney."

"Hmm," Uncle Darren said, and then he shrugged. "Oh well, whatever makes them happy."

He brushed past her and went into the house. He came back a few minutes later carrying a cast-iron skillet and the colander of leaves. They were now damp from washing. He found a place next to the steaks to put the skillet and handed the colander to Amanda to hold.

"So how was your day?" Amanda asked, mostly to make conversation.

"Spent most of the day hauling buckets of fish to Jeremy Harmenson's farm to stock his pond. Catfish, sunfish and smallmouth bass," he replied.

"Wow, exciting," she said sarcastically. "You know some people have jobs, like regular jobs they go to every day, same time, same place."

"Psht," he said. "Lazy bastards. I have," he made a face as he counted and then shrugged, "at least a dozen jobs. I've got a couple more ponds to stock tomorrow. Next week I have to help Jacob take some cattle to the slaughterhouse."

"And these jobs pay?" she groused.

"After I pay the fisheries and gas," he said, "my take will be just over a hundred twenty. Not bad for two days' work. Besides, Jeremy's pond is up by the old woodlot on County Road 54. I picked up more than a dozen good quality sticks while I was up there. I can sand and finish them over the winter and next summer sell them at the craft fair for a decent price as well. Jacob is paying too and giving me the hides for leather working." He paused and looked up at the house. "I keep a roof over our heads, don't I?"

Amanda nodded but didn't answer. She was grateful for all the work Uncle Darren put in to keep the roof over their heads and food in their bellies. But sometimes she wished she lived in a regular household, with two parents who had steady jobs, cable TV, and high-speed internet.

When the steaks were nearly done and the skillet hot, he took the colander from Amanda and dumped the still wet greens into it. They sizzled slightly. He threw a lid over the mass. He handed her an old kitchen towel and said, "Can you take that in? I will bring the steaks."

Using the towel as a makeshift potholder, she lifted the skillet and took it inside. She snagged a trivet and sat it on the table. He followed her in with the plate of elk. "Dinner!" he yelled into the living room at Hunter.

Hunter came skipping in and threw himself into a seat as Uncle Darren handed out plates for the three of them. Hunter peeled the lid off the skillet and squealed, "Cooked greens, my favorite." He grabbed for a fork.

"Huh-uh," Uncle Darren said sternly. He reached both arms across the table, taking Hunter's hand in his right and Amanda's in his left. "Grace," he said firmly.

Hunter dutifully closed his eyes and said, "Bless be the mother, giving that which grows on her own body that we might live. Blessed be the," he opened one eye and inspected the steaks, "elk, that gave his life that we might live. So mote it be."

"Her life actually," Uncle Darren said as he let go and picked up a steak with a fork. "This is from the doe I bagged last year with Carl when we went to Alberta."