Alright. I admit, my morning that day could have gone worse. Maybe, just maybe, I was pulling out my hair for reasons beyond my range of control. Maybe. Although, I'm pretty sure being kidnapped from school and adopted into a new family of child mutants was a pretty decent reason to stress. Then again, considering I am also an alleged child mutant, do I really have the right to complain? Whatever. Besides the point.

I had spent breakfast sitting around a wide wooden table with its fair share of sharpie doodles, and sharing a bowl of cereal with Selena and Jonathan. They had both readily filled any lingering awkward silence with, what I assumed to be casual, conversation. (Ex. "Hey, Johnny, pass me the salt." "Why?" "I'm gonna put whatever's left in the milk for Luca." "Oh. Okay.")

Once breakfast had ended, Selena had shamelessly left me and Jonathan to clean up and suffer through an old, rugged game of Parcheesi. Thus, between passionate arguments and accusations of misconduct, I found that the first hour had somehow passed with a surprising ease. Although, I think Johnathan may have gotten bored with my company, seeing as though it only took a measly half an hour before he packed his belongings and moved on to better, more interesting things, leaving me to awkwardly fumble with one lonely die and count little black dots until my heart finally couldn't take anymore.

This emotional agony was only heightened by the fact that I had lost my phone just a week before my kidnapping. Of course, lost being a subjective word. Michael was quick to destroy it the moment he caught sight of the thing, mentioning something about hackers or being tracked down. I found the entire ordeal to be quite dramatic, but I found it simpler to just follow along. I conceded without much of a fight on the condition that I added a few emergency contacts on Michael's old burner phone for, well, emergencies. Not that I necessarily expected to use them, but it sounded smart at the time.

Just as I was about to snap in what certainly would have been a blatant demonstration of mania, Jaz had reluctantly trudged through the kitchen, still clad with a raging case of bedhead despite being up for however long. I never expected to feel so much relief towards a near stranger.

She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, with far more vigor than I had yet to see someone handling water have, and padded over to the couch for what I only assumed to be her daily, and most definitely nightly, routine of reading until she dropped from crippling exhaustion. She didn't bother with even a pity glance in my direction before becoming one with the couch and picking up wherever she left off in her reading.

Eventually, seeing no other future opportunity to form a sort of bond with the teen, I courageously braved the walk from the table to her side, and carefully positioned myself on the dark green couch about a foot away. I mustered as much strength as I could, and eventually asked, "Can I see what you're reading?"

In all honesty, I almost regretted the question right after I had asked it, suddenly recalling my fervent disdain for books. It's just... seeing the rare, small smile that had immediately resulted somehow made the emotional torment worth it. So, I suffered through the long, excited synopsis about dystopian societies and unsurpassable romance, and forced myself to be engaged despite how badly my mind desired to drift. This conversation lasted until finally, finally, I was saved by the sound of the front door opening.

I turned just in time to see Michael, Maya, and Blaise step inside adorning plastic grocery bags within their grips.

"Hey, Jaz," Michael said, sounding surprised, and she had finally halted her enthusiastic summarizing. My desperate need for release must have been obvious, because it only took one glance at my face for Michael to say, "Why don't you go round up everyone else? Tell them I brought food. Don't mention anything about putting away groceries, or they'll never get off their lazy asses."

The girl smiled innocently, spared me a rushed goodbye and sped away towards the bedrooms.

"I take it she's not coming back," I said, visibly wincing at how relieved I sounded.

Michael didn't seem to take offense, though, as he led his trio towards the kitchen. "Not if her life depends on it."

I watched in silence as they swiftly put away the groceries, looking unified and practiced. Even though the amount of food didn't seem like enough for everyone, they looked unconcerned as they finished up and each moved on to their own thing. Maya and Blaise had retreated towards their shared bedroom, with promises of hanging around later, and Michael had taken a seat across from me.

"So," he teased, leaning forward with a small, knowing smirk, "how'd it go, you know, all alone with the rabid beasts. I bet they did all sorts of horrors to you. Nothing short of cutting out your tongue, I'm sure. How you're still alive is beyond me."

My face scrunched up, and I made my disagreement very clear with one succinct flash of a particularly infamous finger.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "but seriously? Was it everything you wished and more?"

I rolled my eyes, despite him being sort of really on point. My whole life I had wanted a family, and I was really beginning to believe that maybe I could find one here, amongst these child mutants. Though, perhaps that wasn't the most appropriate mental nickname. I'm, like, almost sure they would take offense. Then again, as long as it stays mental, it should be safe... is what the average person would think; however, I know better than anyone than to believe such madness. The truth is, nothing is ever safe. Once it's thought, it exists somewhere in the cosmos for curious mind readers to exploit. The whole thinking thing is quite risky business. "It could've gone worse."

"I knew it," Michael said, standing up and pulling me to my feet, "You love it here."

"Shut it," I grumbled, smiling despite the smart aleck commentary. I wasn't worried when he began leading me outside the room, but asked nonetheless. "Why are you always dragging me off to distant places? Why not just ask like a normal person?"

"We're far from normal, El," Michael pointed out, unapologetically proceeding to drag me into a hallway across from the bedrooms.

"Doesn't mean we can't pretend for a bit," I smiled, taking note of the new scenery.

Michael had pulled me into a room with light blue walls, empty besides a couple sprawled out plastic chairs. He looked oddly proud of the room. Considering the subpar paint job, it wasn't much of a leap to assume Michael had decorated it himself. "Sit down," he said, pulling up one of the chairs and taking a seat himself.

I was skeptical, but eventually sat across from him at his subsequent insistence. He gave me an odd look, and scooted his chair closer. I resisted the reflex to back up when he managed to get close enough for his leg to position between mine. Our knees clashed together awkwardly. "Um."

"Nervous?" He grinned shameless, and went as far as a wink until I slapped his arm. "I know, this seems weird, but I promise there's a point. Trust me?"

I bit at my lip, failing to suppress the nervous (not that I would admit that aloud) laugh. "Okay, yeah, fine. I trust you."

He beamed. "Great. Take my hands."

"Forward much?" I asked, mainly to cover my tension. I did as instructed, focusing on not looking too weirded out to distract from the butterflies in my stomach. I never would have expected something as simple as hand holding, the measly brush of palms and interlocked fingers, could set aflame to every drop of blood beneath my skin.

"Like you wouldn't believe," he said, and tightened his hold around my fingers. "Alright. Try not to read my mind."

I groaned. "I already told you it doesn't work like that."

"I believe you," he said unconvincingly, and smiled at my cynicism. "Try. For me."

"It's not going to work," I said one last time, but eventually conceded, stared into his eyes and failed at not reading his mind.

If you can hear this, you suck.

C'mon, you can do it. Just channel your focus elsewhere.

You still suck.

You can think about how charming I am, if it's any help.

I practically heard the grin in that last one. When I pulled myself away from his thoughts, I noticed the methodical pressure of his thumb dancing across my palm. I was surprised to see that he wasn't meeting my eyes any longer, but was instead studying our conjoined hands. His brow had furrowed amidst his concentration and there was a gleam in his eyes.

He looked up suddenly, a smile in his eyes, and began mouthing the words, "I won."

Then I remembered that I wasn't supposed to be able to hear mouthed words under normal conditions, and realized that was the sound of Michael's voice in my mind which I was merely hearing it again for the first time in a while. Michael had won. Which was unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated.

"Don't feel too bad," he said. "You're like Jaz- big powers and small attention spans. That same kind of distraction tends to take her out of her mind too. It used to help with the whole spasms and nightmares duo."

For whatever reason, I felt as though I were imposing just by actively listening. Despite this churning feeling in my stomach, I couldn't tune him out. It was intriguing to hear of the experiences from someone who gets what it's like to lack such a fundamental concept as control over something that sounds so simple.

"I can help you," he stressed, and glanced down at our joined hands. "Just give me the chance."

I swallowed the lump in my throat before attempting to speak again. "What's in it for you?"

His eyes seemed to twinkle. "Answers, I guess. For starters, I'd like to know why I heard your prayers. I think the answer to that is teaching you control. Once you get a better grip on it, we can explore how you put your thoughts in my mind, and why."

I forced our conversation from my mind and decided to save that avenue of thought for another day with considerable amounts of blankets and comfort food. We had moved from what Michael called the Training Room (ever creative) and made our way down to the makeshift living area.

It seemed that the others had diffused inside once the coast was clear for any potential mandatory demonstrations of responsibility. Maya and Blaise were just walking in, joined hand-in-hand in the hallway parallel from us. Lucas and Selena were having a screaming match from opposite couches- Lucas in the green one and Selena in a loveseat she had dragged in from who-knows-where. Jonathan was sprawled out on the floor playing with Jenga Blocks, incorrectly might I add. I made the mental note to teach him later. Lastly, Jaz was curled up on the remainder of the couch besides Lucas. She had a book across her lap (astonishing, I know).

One glance out the window had Michael clasping his hands together and entering what I was now deeming to be his leadership skin.

"Alright," Michael said, efficiently scooping Jonathan into his arms. The younger boy only struggled for a few seconds before accepting this fate, although he kept his small, childish pout firmly in place. "You are way passed curfew, and I refuse to let anyone else under my care become as spoiled as Luca."

"-Hey!"

"So, it's off to bed. No exceptions," Michael finished strictly, ignoring the boy's fruitless attempts of bargaining as he was carried towards the bedrooms. The remainder of us eyed one another warily.

Maya and Blaise moved to the space on the floor, now abandoned by Jonathan. They shooed away the blocks, both looking equally confused at the purpose of seemingly random pieces of wood.

"Does anyone fancy a game?" Lucas finally said, breaking any tension, and simultaneously patting his free side on the seat in offering. As I sat down, Jaz looked as though she would shift away, but eventually resigned to simply making a displeased face instead. Which is progress in itself, I suppose.

"Do you fancy losing a game?" Came Selena's immediate response as she curled up in her small, torn loveseat, tucking her knees to her chest.

"In your sick, twisted dreams, darling," Lucas said.

As Selena moved to respond, Jaz suddenly stood up and moved to slip out of the room. "Oi!" Selena called, her eyebrows pulling together. "Where do you think you're going?"

"My room," Jaz said slowly, as if in question, hugging her book to her chest possessively.

"You're not staying to play?" Selena asked. At Jaz's obvious revulsion, she bit her lip. She looked almost concerned, but I quickly wrote that off as my imagination. I refuse to accept any humanity from Selena- which, yes, I understand is chaotically stubborn (and, no, I will not better myself, thanks). "Well, if you really want. You're welcome to come back up any time. We'd appreciate someone around here with actual brains to help keep the boys in check."

"-Hey!" Lucas called out for the second time already.

"Call it intuition, but I find that a bit hard to believe," she tapped her head knowingly, turned on her toes and briskly shuffled outside the room. Before leaving, she called out a small, "The effort is appreciated, though. 'Night!"

"'Night, darling," we heard Michael say, just before seeing him. As Jaz disappeared down the hallway, he emerged in her place. He looked confused as he watched her leave, whatever parental instincts he had clearly flaring up in red flags. "Where is she going?"

"Damn it," Selena said softly, not bothering to answer. Her disappointment only lasted a few moments, though, and soon she was clapping her hands together and throwing around suggestions, if somewhat less enthusiastic than before. "Truth or Dare? Spin the Bottle? Never Have I Ever?"

"Never Have I- what now?" Lucas laughed, cocking an eyebrow and taking up the new space on Jaz's abandoned side of the sofa.

"I forget way too often that you were raised by Michael. The sick bastard never taught you anything useful," Selena grumbled to herself.

Michael snorted, shoving Lucas over and making a seat for himself under the length of his brother's legs. Lucas propped his head on my lap, seemingly already comfortable enough that he felt no apparent need to ask. Not that I would deny, per say.

"Yep," Michael agreed. "Except boring things like survival and, I don't know, how to read. Like you said, nothing useful."

"Yeah, whatever," Selena said, clearly uninterested and waved her hand in dismissal. "Well, it's supposed to be a drinking game, but Mr. Stickler there would probably rather die than consciously give us shots."

"As if you guys don't act dumb enough as it is," Mr. Stickler himself retorted. "I can do Apple Juice or Soda. Take it or leave it."

"Wow, soda passed midnight," Lucas marveled. "We're getting wild tonight, kids."

"Stop harassing your brother," Maya chastised, effortlessly maintaining the peace. She had a small smile on her face when she added, "and do remember some of us here grew up in a lab, or with Michael, and were thus deprived of fun. Some explanation would be appreciated."

Michael chose to let this one slide, and instead opted to go to the kitchen and retrieve previously mentioned soda and cups.

He made it back in time to hear Selena explain the game. "Basically, we each go around the circle and name something we've done. Anyone in the circle who has also done it takes a shot, or in this case, a sip from their cup, I guess. The objective is to embarrass everyone else without revealing anything you otherwise wouldn't. If only one person from the group drinks, besides the asker, of course, they have to offer an explanation. Should be interesting since we've all experienced quite a bit, I can imagine. We can even check to make sure no one lies by omission." She gave Lucas and I very pointed, very expectant looks.

Lucas let out a cackle, nothing short of devious and sat properly to accept his drink. Blaise had ended up pouring one for himself and Maya. Maya appeared concerned, but kept any reservations to herself. Her thoughts were running frantically, but I tried to concentrate on other things to give her at least a semblance of privacy. It was still odd to think I was actually capable of that. I never really considered the possibility before. I refocused on the group.

"I'll start," Selena offered amiably, cradling her plastic cup in both hands. She was wearing an oversized sweater with sleeves that went passed her fingertips. "We'll start out easy. Never Have I Ever been homeless."

Several annoyed groans followed, and everyone besides Selena and myself drank. Michael took a suspiciously large gulp, and shot me a toothy smile when he caught my gaze. I flushed and trained my eyes back to the circle.

"So, I go now?" Maya asked. At Selena's affirmation, she smiled to herself and said, "Never Have I Ever... I don't know, spasmed?"

At that, everyone tipped back their cups. Except myself, of course, characteristically lost. "Spasmed?" I asked, feeling out of place.

"You know," Lucas said, "like when your powers take a momentary shit-"

"Language," Michael interjected.

"- and you get this crazy power surge, but completely lose control. It happens around here to one of us at the very least, like, every month or two. More often, usually. They're pretty much always triggered by something, like-"

"No need to get dorky on us," Selena interrupted, rolling her eyes.

"Piss off," Lucas muttered, but continued deviously. "For example, last month Selena got pissed and ripped a door from a car."

Selena flipped the bird at him. "Wonder who pissed me off, asshole."

I digested this new information, and, seeing no other option, tipped back my drink, managing a few sympathetic chuckles from the little group, and a small cheer from Lucas. "I didn't think that was a normal thing."

"Well, they are. Or as normal as we can get," Michael said. "And when they do happen, we all try to pitch in to help diffuse the situation. Since they're usually triggered, the protocol is to first identify what's causing distress and work to alleviate it. If you can't, either find help or restrain the person until they exhaust themselves."

"Of course, you turn it into a teaching moment," Lucas snorted, earning a prompt whack upside the head.

"Never Have I Ever," Blaise began, interrupting the almost fight from reaching any real heat, "killed a person."

Silence ensued. Tense, shocked, and torturous silence. Of course, on my end, I also had the accompaniment of tense, shocked, and torturous thoughts riddling the drums of my ears and the space behind my eyes.

"Way to get to the point," Selena said, exhaling softly. She drank slowly, fidgeting in her seat. Maya and Lucas followed shortly after. My breath caught in my throat as Selena spoke. "No way. Out of all people, it's you two who have a body count?"

Lucas inhaled deeply, "Shit happens." Michael clasped his shoulder with a sympathetic grimace.

Maya, observing the tension, carefully explained. "It wasn't on purpose, of course. When Blaise and I escaped and were living on our own- Oh! We were test tube babies," she explained to me on the side, "Well, I experienced my first spasm outside of a controlled environment. One thing lead to another, and... well, I had formed this tropical storm thing."

Blaise pulled her towards his side, and leveled his eyes to the remainder of us- silently daring anyone to comment.

"Well," Selena said, whistling lowly, "mine wasn't a mistake." She didn't offer any further elaboration.

I decided to continue, finding it a better option to move on before someone tried to irritate the situation further. "Never Have I Ever been high."

Selena smiled at me, and I was taken aback by the sudden friendliness. The words don't get used to it jumped out at me and I returned the look with an awkward nod. Seemingly accepting this, Selena took a swing from her drink.

To everyone's apparent surprise, so did Michael.

"Spill!" I demanded.

Michael only gave me a sly smile and dragged his finger along the rim of his cup. "I'm afraid those aren't the rules," he said pleasantly. Lucas looked as though he was about to protest, until, "Never Have I Ever been to jail."

"Who even are you?" Lucas demanded, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. "What have you done with my brother? More importantly, where have you been all my life? Most importantly, where was I when this happened? I'm literally always around you. How did you manage to get in jail without me noticing?"

"Jail?" Maya suggested, her striking blue eyes shining mischievously. "Shouldn't you explain since you're the only person?"

"I didn't drink," he pointed out, and positively beamed at his spluttering brother.

Lucas finally mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like stupid, lying, criminal brothers before announcing, "Fine, two can play at that game. Never Have I Ever gotten a tattoo."

Michael jerked to face his brother, eyes wide and incredulous. "You're joking."

Scenes from a town fair and a faint feeling of anxious rebelliousness floated around my mind. "He isn't," I chirped unhelpfully, though I was half sure no one was paying much attention.

"How did you manage a fucking tattoo?" Michael demanded, grabbing Lucas' arm. He looked as though he was about to lift the sleeve and perform a thorough search and seize, but visibly decided against it.

"You're not the only one with secrets, I guess," Lucas said proudly, yanking his arm back. "Remember that one carnival you said I couldn't go to?"

"You're one stupid son of a-"

"Language," Lucas chastised, jumping off the couch and away just fast enough to avoid Michael's shameless attack.

"As fun as it is to watch you two play tag, I'd prefer a big boy fight." She paused, watching them with a trained eye. "No? Great. Can we continue?" Selena asked impatiently.

"Yeah, can we continue?" Lucas piggy-backed, perching himself of the armrest of Selena's loveseat. "I'm not moving from here, though. I value my life, damnit."

Michael looked contemplative. "Fine. Don't think you're anywhere near off the hook. I'll hunt you in your sleep, kid."

"Alright," Selena said loudly. "Let's make this interesting. Never Have I Ever had a parent that hated me."

"Jesus, Lena," Michael said, sinking into his spot beside me. "You're such an instigator. You know that, right?"

"Like I know the sky is blue, dearest," Selena said, looking fairly proud of herself. "Bottoms up."

Everyone drank, to her satisfaction.

"Let's share horror stories for the new girl," Selena offered, her escapade clearly only beginning. Choruses of groans ensued, which she clearly reveled in. "I'll start, seeing as it was my idea. What do you want to know?" She didn't give me a chance to answer. "Oh, I'll tell you everything about my relationship with Lucas. How does that sound?"

I felt Michael shift beside me, rubbing his temples and exhaling deeply. "Is that really necessary?"

"Probably not," she said. "Though, I'd still like to make things clear. Listen up, new girl. Lucas is heads over heels for me. Always has been, always will be. I see the way you look at him. It's cute and all, but I'd appreciate it if you learned your place sooner rather than later."

Here's the thing about mortification which never really get covered in the movies. When something like this happens, there really is nothing to think. No commentary that could ever encompass the searing hot humiliation of existing.

"Alright, Selena, you made your point," Maya said, looking unimpressed.

"Just one more thing," Selena said, turning her attention to Lucas. "If I could notice how she feels without your snazzy abilities, then there is absolutely no excuse for you not to have told her something. Especially after that scene in the woods."

Lucas snorted, sitting up straight enough that he could level his gaze with hers. "First of all, you, my dear, are bluffing. There is no way you heard or saw anything outside, no matter how exceptional your hearing or sight are. There's a reason I set camp out there, right? Secondly, here's my take on things. If you don't want me to be with other girls, then you should stop chickening out of a relationship. If you don't like the repercussions of an off-and-on deal, then stop ending things when you get scared."

"Maybe I keep ending things because I know I'll never mean enough for you to stop messing around with other girls the second I turn away," Selena snapped back immediately. "It's nothing about fear, you jackass. It's about common sense. If you really loved me, you would come back when I left."

Lucas shifted in his seat to grant me his undivided attention. I momentarily hated him for dragging me back in the discussion. Here I was, naively thinking I finally lost the unwanted spotlight. "Don't take what Selena says personally. She has abandonment issues because she believes that since her parents and brother left her behind, she can't trust anyone. She thinks it's not a fear thing, but I know she's lying. You see, later on tonight, she'll sneak out of her room, find me, and apologize. We'll get back together, because I am helplessly in love with her, and end things again the second I get too close. And that is how we will continue for the rest of time, because I am absolutely devoted to her and she refuses to grow up." I mentally added the mic drop, because wow.

Michael glanced up at Selena, fixing his hair. "Anything to add?"

She pursed her lips. "Not really, no." She flashed Lucas a smile, one that looked too human for her features, "I'll see you later on tonight, babe."

He settled more comfortably in the sofa, looking thoroughly pleased with the series of events. "Never would have guessed."

I leaned closer to Michael. "Is it always like this here?" I whispered, dreading the answer.

"Only always," he whispered back, visibly forcing the smile from his face. "You get used to it. Apparently putting a bunch of teens in an exceptionally small house to live together is a recipe for constant disaster. Who would have thought?"

"Certainly not me," I said.

Michael smiled, lifting his head to glance around the room. "Maya, love of my life, why don't you fill in some of the blanks for Ella?" With that, he stood up and retreated to the kitchen, red solo cup in clutch.

Selena patiently waited for him to be out of earshot before regarding the rest in the room carefully. "He's not drinking again, is he?"

Lucas's head shot up at that. "What? No way."

"Yes way," she said, chewing on her lip. "He reeks of booze, and why would he take his cup to the kitchen if he left all the soda here?"

I wondered how well her smelling could possibly be for her to smell alcohol from across the room that I couldn't detect from a few inches away.

"I don't know," Lucas muttered. "Maybe he was getting water, or something."

"If he's drinking water, then he's doing it to sober up," Selena said, shooting her boyfriend(?) a pointed look. "Mikey has the self-preservation instincts of a toddler. When was the last time he remembered to actually drink water?"

"Regardless," Maya said loudly, "it's none of your business. He's old enough to know what he's doing. Besides, most teenagers drink around his age anyways. Its legal in most countries, too."

"Did he tell you that?" Lucas asked, an eyebrow raised. "You guys literally go to the market with him to steer him away from the drinks. You realize he's playing you, right?"

"We're handling it, Lucas," Maya said, her voice soothing despite the challenge in her words. There was also an edge to the way she spoke, betraying her insecurities.

I chewed on the edge of my nail. "Weren't you supposed to be filling me in on things, Maya?"

She smiled at my gratefully, and Selena tilted her head back in annoyance. "What is it you want to know?"

"How did you meet Michael?" I asked, "And Lucas."

"Wow," he winced, clutching his chest. "That was painful, not gonna lie."

"Cut it out with the theatrics," Maya said, rolling her eyes fondly. "Remember how Blaise and I were test tube babies?"

I wasn't sure how I would ever be able to forget, but I'm pretty sure that would be rude to vocalize, so I settled for nodding along.

"Well, we were made by The Order. We lived there until we were twelve," Maya said.

"It sucked," Blaise chimed in, smiling ruefully. "Maya is too sweet to say it. She doesn't like pity, so take my word for it. It was constant observation, and needles, and prodding to see how much we could take before Spasming."

Maya was silent for a moment, her eyes looked on the ground. "Well, he's not wrong."

Drowning. They were drowning. I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I didn't-

"Don't give me that look," Maya chastised gently. It took me a bit longer than normal to realize her words were directed in my direction. "Everyone has their demons."

The water is filling to the brim. The door is locked- why won't the door open- I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to-

"One day," Blaise continued, his voice somber, "they prodded a bit too hard. Maya spasmed particularly bad. One thing lead to another, and she managed to swipe a security card that controlled the doors. She found me, and we left. I burnt their research to ashes."

If I get the keycard I can open the door, and let the water out. He's purple- they aren't supposed to be purple- please stop fighting me- keycard! Why isn't he waking up. Wake up. Wake up!

Selena was curled in her chair, looking impossibly small and watching with an intense attentiveness. I wondered how often they talked about their past.

"We ran," Maya said, "like fugitives." Blaise drew his arm around her, and she settled more comfortably in his hold. "And we weren't the only ones." She shot Lucas a knowing look.

"Michael and I were on the run, too," he said, wringing his hands together. "It was all a thing of freak coincidence. Mikey and I ran away, and I persuaded anyone who recognized us to look the other way. We got some elderly woman to take us in for a bit. She was never completely there, so when she mistook us for her grandchildren, we sort of just went along with it."

"Worked out fairly well," Michael said. When I turned to the sound of his voice, I found Selena was already staring at his form, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed tight over his chest, her eyebrows furrowed and her nose wrinkled. "We ended up stealing her car, the one I drove you here in, Ella, and Lucas just did his voodoo to make any cops lose the will to call social services at the sight of a twelve-year-old swerving on the expressway. We ended up parking the car off the side of the road at night and drove during the day, and eventually we found the Shack. We ran into Maya and Blaise when they almost started a forest fire across the creak a couple of yards south."

"Then, Michael got super protective and never let me leave again," Lucas muttered. "You know, except for when they wanted me to rob people blind."

"His puppy dog eyes are especially effective," Michael said. "It's remarkable what making a couple grown men feel guilty for our homeless youth will do to you. You know, that and an extra push from our resident touchy-feely guy."

"Yeah," Selena said, her voice teetering on a dangerous edge with reminiscing on one drop and malice on the other. I wondered which way she'd fall. "Then, Jonathan and I came along, you got depressed, and started drinking yourself silly when you thought we were asleep." Malice it is.

Michael stiffened, his forceful casualness easing off into clear and utter discomfort. I could make out the small spark in his eyes, the threat of a blaze just moments away. His expression was hard. "I'm not going to apologize," he finally managed, his voice sounding strained.

"I didn't ask you to," she responded.

"I won't explain myself either," he persisted, pushing himself off the wall and hovering uncomfortably in the doorway.

"It's not like I want to hear any of your excuses anyways," Selena said. "Nothing I haven't heard before. Now that I think about it, it was probably messed up of me to put you on a pedestal in the first place; to genuinely believe you would be different from all the others that let me down." She unraveled herself, looking all parts threatening and graceful as she moved across the room to face him down. "I don't want to hear what you have to say for yourself, but I do want to listen." She shoved him with enough force to send him stumbling back into the wall. His head remained high. "You can call yourself a dad all you want. You can tuck Jonathan in at night, and call Jaz darling until your heart contents. You can pretend you're all high and mighty, but as long as begin putting yourself first, then you're just like their old parents: selfish and shitty."

He didn't answer. He couldn't bring himself to speak, because he had no defense besides it's not fair. I didn't sign up to be a dad. I didn't ask for this. "Get out of my head," he said, averting his attention to where I sat.

"Get out of your own head," Selena drawled, with an air of finality. She jabbed a finger into his chest one last time before turning on her heels and leaving the rooms.

The room with terse with an impossibly thick tension. Michael was still glaring holes into my head, but I understood that it was a projection of anger.

"Well," Lucas said, his voice sounding out of place in the silence, "someone had to say it."

"I will punch you," Michael retorted, with no real heat. It sounded more like an automatic reaction, an instinctual response.

"You okay, Mikey?" Maya asked, her voice regarding him with delicacy.

"Is that-" his voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair- "am I really that bad?"

"You're doing a great job raising Jonathan," Maya assured, "if that's what you're asking. Selena is just angry. You know how she feels about drugs and drinking. I'll talk to her in a bit about it, if you want."

"I only had a couple drinks," he continued. "I'm not even drunk, or anything. Just buzzed. People my age do it all the time. It's not like I'm an alcoholic."

"You're not most people, though, are you?" Lucas chimed in, his skin looking pale. His head was bowed, and his hair framed his face. "Both mom and dad were addicts, and you did go through that," he struggled for a word, "slump. It's not too far too think you're drinking again."

"Fuck you," Michael said, shaking his head. "I'm not dad, and that was manipulative."

"You may not be him, but you still have his genes," Lucas said, unfazed. "That includes his addictive personality."

Michael blew a strand of hair from his eyes. "Forget it, just- stop comparing me to our parents, alright? I'm gonna talk to Selena and call it a night." He paused, and a bitter smile twisted his lips. "Welcome to the Shack, Ella."

I snorted. "Take a mint before you talk to her," I suggested. At his confusion, I elaborated, "She doesn't like the smell of booze."

He slowly nodded, murmuring his thanks before disappearing back into the hallway.

Lucas turned back to me, his smile conspiring. "At least we now know he keeps the dancing juice in the kitchen, eh?"

Maya scoffed, standing up and cracking her back. "I swear it's usually not this bad. It's just... this time of year is never great for Selena, so she acts out. She thinks if she causes enough drama, then she can ignore her own pain."

"Not that she was really wrong, though," Lucas said. "Michael needed to hear that."

Maya raised her eyebrows. "He needed to hear Selena bash everything he's ever done for her, for us? He needed to hear her shatter his entire sense of self? He needed to hear his brother accuse him of being as bad as his abusive father?"

"Watch what you call my dad," Lucas warned. I startled to hear him sound so far from his normal, teasing self. "He never laid a hand on us."

I'm sorry, Luca. You don't understand the whole story. She didn't verbalize this doubt, however. "You're right. I'll watch what I say if you do, too. Deal?"

Lucas seemed to deflate, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, you're right. Point taken. Sorry about that, Maya."

She smiled, stepping forward to ruffle his hair and drop a kiss to the crown of his hand. Blaise took that as his cue to stand up. "We're gonna call it a night, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"And every day after that," Lucas agreed, smiling cheekily.

She snorted, and pulling Blaise from the room with a final wave and wishing the both of us a goodnight.

Now that we were alone, Lucas looked to be growing exponentially uncomfortable. I didn't necessarily need, nor really want, to him to speak it to existence.

"I get it," I said. "I hope things work out between you and her. Besides, I think I really just need a friend through all this."

"Yeah," he breathed, sounding relieved. He stuck out his fist, which I promptly bumped my own against. "Friends."

Thanks for reading! Be sure to leave a comment and vote if you enjoyed to help others find this story as well :)

- eli