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I find the second note in my locker.

Really? I groan internally. Someone must be having a lot of time on their hands.

On it was one lousy sentence about how Christian wasn't all he seemed to be and how he couldn't be trusted yada yada the implication was clear. Bootless fen-sucked scullion. Why couldn't she— or he— come up to my face instead?

Vexed, I crumple up the note and shove it deep into my jean pocket. Slamming the door to my locker shut, I head off for Connextion's first meeting and thanksgiving party that was happening on the lower floor.

"Welcome, welcome!" Peter greets me at the door and holds it open for me to enter.

"You're such a dork," I roll my eyes, but can't help smiling after a glance at his outfit..

"C'mon," he grins cockily and lifts his shoulders, "at least I'm an adorable dork."

He looks positively strapping in his thanksgiving "pioneer" outfit. A small plastic bowler hat is clipped to his hair, and he's wearing a pressed white shirt tucked into black shorts, complete with black suspenders. And crocs. He was wearing black crocs.

"Are those... turkey feathers?" I ask incredulously, gesturing at the feathers that stick out of his back pocket.

Peter pulls one out of his shorts and puts it to his lips as if shushing me. "They're Crystal's. Don't tell her I took 'em."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I assure him. "I make a great  innocent face. What feathers?"

"Excellent."

"Egg-cellent?" I correct.

"Come on in," he laughs and ruffles my hair, pushing me into the room. "If you're here, start working."

"Yoo-hoo! Long time no see!" a hearty voice from the back calls out to me, and I turn my head eagerly.

"Willow!" I rush over and bend down to wrap my arms around the elderly woman. "I've missed you so, so much! It's been too long."

She smells like croissants and raspberry, just like she always does. Willow is one of the more mentally stable and aware seniors at the home, and she just happens to always be there to listen whenever I have problems. She'd been physically healthy too, up until February of last year when she fell down the stairs, rendering both her legs weaker than before.

Willow reciprocates my embrace and rubs the small of my back gently. "I've missed you too, dear."

"You got a new wheelchair?" I ask, rubbing the shiny, black metal. "Looks good."

She smiles. "Avery decorated the back," she says, gesturing, and I notice the colorful paper cut outs stuck to the back of the seat.

"It's very nice," I say as I wheel her to a stop at the table. Connextions was hosting a thanksgiving arts-and-crafts feast. "So... what shall we make today?"

Willow pretends to think for a second, but I already know what she's going to say.

"Cats!"

I meow and cup my hands as 'cat ears' on the top of my head. "Sounds great to me-ow!"

Willow snorts. "Oh, how I've missed you and your stupid puns."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, now, would we?" Peter strides over. "How are you, Willow?"

"Go away," I tell him profusely, "you're interrupting our reunion after months apart."

He chuckles, gives a shake of his head and saunters back off.

Willow eyes me playfully. "He's a kind fellow, Elliot. You should be nicer to him."

I groan and hand her several pieces of colored paper. "I have no intention of ever dating Peter Bailey, Willow. You of all people should know that."

"Well, why not?" she asks.

"No," I say firmly. "We are working friends, colleagues, to be clear, only. Now, would you like the cat stickers and scissors?"

"Yes, please," she rolls her eyes. "I should have remembered, no one could ever love you more than that sweet buffoon."

"Who, Frank?"

"Frank. He's a lovely boy. Very funny and patient with the young and old," Willow continues without giving me a chance to interrupt. "If you ever get tired of him, though, I have a very attractive grandson."

"No more, please," I sigh. "Can we move on?"

Willow sniffs. "If you must."

I roll my eyes and begin cutting a piece of paper in half, one side for each of us. "Here you go. A black cat."

"More like, a black sheet of paper."

"Be creative," I tell her.

The weight of the scissors and paper is familiar in my hand, and I snip corners and round edges, mercilessly transforming it into a small kitten that should fit in the center of Willow's wheelchair wheel. "How about this?"

She glances at it and grins, "perfect."

"So what have you been up to this summer?" I ask as I get down on one knee to glue my masterpiece onto the wheelchair.

"Oh, it was a good break," Willow closes her eyes and sighs. "My grandson came in to visit almost every day, and he brought me out sometimes to the park to soak up the sun."

"Wasn't that kind of him."

"Indeed, 'twas," she waves a hand in the air. "But never mind me and my lonely old stories. How was your summer, Elliot?"

I shrug, reaching for the tape which Willow passes me dutifully. "It wasn't very special, but it wasn't completely dull either."

She nods. "We need one of those, once in a while."

"I'm sorry for not coming in more often to visit you over the break," I apologize. I had only gone to the senior home twice over the summer holiday, and even those visits had been brief. "I would've if I could, but I was just so busy with everything going around in the neighborhood and family."

Willow holds up a hand to shush me. "It's quite alright, I understand completely. I was also quite a wild and lively girl in my youth. Do tell me, how is Ms. Gartener by the way? As well as Ms. Pettington? It's about time they joined me here in the ol' home."

Relieved, I dive into retelling the story of Mr. Pettington's foolish endeavors and Ms. Gartener's iron fist on the neighborhood rules. When I finish, Willow chuckles and slaps the side bar of her wheelchair. "How I've missed that woman, it seems like she's not quite ready to join me just yet."

I nod. "She's still on top of everything; the neighborhood gatherings, festivities, all of it."

Willow snorts. "Sounds like my old best friend."

"It always makes me happy to hear that you two are still best friends, even after so long." I go back to my seat and sit next to her, softly rubbing her fingers.

"What can I say? I mean, we grew up together, girl," Willow says, and then her eyes gloss over and I know she's about to burst into lesson.

"Lindsay was always there for me when we were younger— mind you, she still is now but things are different," she shakes her head and gestures at her legs before continuing. "Anyhow, remember when I told you about how I ran away from home because my parents insisted I marry the rich man next door?"

I nod.

"Lindsay took me in like a true best friend, and took care of me. In fact, I met John at her house one day when he came to fix up her kitchen." Willow smiles wickedly and I see a flash of her younger spirit still in her, and then it quickly disappears again.

"It was very nice of Ms. Gartener to do so," I say.

"Wasn't it?" Willow beams. "And she still visits me at least once every week, that dutiful stump. I always tell her that I'm not that lonely but she insists."

"I wish I had a Ms. Gartener in my life," I put an elbow on the table and press my cheek into my palm.

"You do, don't you? Nicole, the Leighs, Amery, Peter, all of your friends from school," Willow looks at me incredulously. "Don't take all of your friendships for granted, Elliot. Someday, they'll be the reason you look forward to the next day. Trust this old lady, won't you?" she grabs my right hand and clasps it with both hands.

"I always trust you, Willow."

She nods in approval and releases me, looking around the room. "Where is that old buffoon of yours today, though?"

"Frank?" I raise a brow. "I don't actually know."

Willow sees the uncomfortable look on my face and tucks in a piece of stray hair behind me ear, patting me on the shoulder. "Don't worry about him ever leaving you. He's a true friend."

I look up at her, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. "I kind of rejected him when he asked me to the Fall Ball."

She snorts. "Frank can take it. I'm more interested in why you said no though."

"Peter asked me first," I say.

"Oh," she looks bewildered, and then amused. "Well, I hope you two have fun then."

I glance over to where Peter is entertaining some of the other seniors with a turkey-in-overalls dance. He looks ridiculous, but strangely charming.

I turn back to Willow, who is smiling smugly at me.

"I guess we will," I cock my head. Once we're finished cutting our decorations, I wheel her to the turkey dance corner and we watch, laughing, for the rest of the night.