Chapter Text
Someone was knocking at the front door. Ben ignored it. Someone else would answer them if it was important, or more likely, the prankster or gutsy journalist would give up and go away—it had nothing to do with him. He had one more chance to take his college entrance exams. His scores were just okay. Barely okay. He thought he was competent enough to squeak by in all the subjects—it was just that something about taking tests had always scrambled his mind and made him forget everything he’d ever known. If he could get his nerves under control, could move a little faster, so he had time to get to all of the questions, he just knew he could bump the score up. Even a modest improvement would help.
He just didn’t know what he’d do, if all his siblings got accepted and he didn’t. Klaus had barely studied and still scored higher than him, and he didn’t even seem particularly enthused about the idea of going to college at all. He’d just been curious how he would score. Ben didn’t begrudge his brother that ease—he just wished some of it would rub off on him.
Someone knocked on his door, and since it was cracked, it swung open. “Ben,” Klaus called, his voice loud and carrying down the whole hall. “There’s a girl here to see you.”
“What?” he said, looking up from his prep book, annoyed. “Klaus, I’m kind of busy.”
“Okay. I’ll tell her you’re too much of a nerd to be worth hanging out with.”
“What girl?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. I didn’t know you even knew anybody.”
“I don’t.”
He didn’t know anyone besides Allison’s friends, who’d never be here asking for him...except for Vanya and Diego’s friend. What was her name again? Jessie, Jackie, Jenny...
Jamie.
He got up and went downstairs, Klaus trailing behind him. He stared in surprise, stopping short when he saw her standing by the front door.
She grinned at him, a little shy but sincere, raising one hand in a slow wave. “Hey there.”
“Oh. Hi. Sorry, I think my brother got confused,” he said, shooting a glare at Klaus. “I’ll go get Vanya and Diego for you.”
“Oh. That’s okay, I mean, it’s not his fault, I asked if you were here—I mean, yeah, I’m here to hang with them, but I kind of thought I’d see how the kittens were doing first? If that’s okay?”
“Oh. Of course, sure. Of course that’s okay.
“You sure? Sorry, I guess I sort of barged in on you here,” she said, laughing. “If you’re busy I can always see the little guys another time. If that’s all right.”
“No, no, I’m not busy.”
“So who was that five seconds ago who told me you were too busy to answer the door?” said Klaus, grinning.
“Shut up,” he muttered. “Um...well, the kittens are up here.”
He led her up the stairs and into his room. He left the door open and could tell Klaus was lingering out there, spying. Not that Ben blamed him. He’d never exactly had a guest before.
He’d bought a playpen to house the kittens in, which took up most of the floorspace. He unzipped the side so the kittens could come toddling out. Jamie cooed and grinned, picking up one of the cat toys and trailing it along the floor, trying to entice them to play.
“Aw, hey little guys! It’s only been, what, a couple weeks? Look how big you’re getting! How’ve they been?”
“Good, I think,” he said, watching the kittens play with the same nervous tension he always did, like he expected them to break at any second. “I did need to use the eye-dropper to feed one of them for a while, but they all eat fine from the bottles now.”
“You can probably start mixing kitten food into their diet. But I guess you probably know that. Vanya says you’ve pretty much been taking care of them on your own.”
Vanya talked about him to this stranger? What else had she said?
Probably nothing important. It was fine. He trusted Vanya’s discretion. Why did he care what this person thought of him, anyway? She was Vanya and Diego’s friend, not his.
“Yeah...I just hope I’m doing everything right.”
“They seem healthy and happy to me. It’s a lot of work, taking care of four kittens. You must really like animals.”
He shrugged, helping one of the kittens trying to climb his leg, lifting her into his lap. “I guess.”
She laughed like she thought he was joking. He felt his face warm up. He didn’t know how to talk to her. He’d never had to talk to a stranger one on one before. He’d barely had to talk to one with all his siblings around, where he could fade into the background. What if he said something really weird? What if he already had?
At least he was well hidden in his baggy jeans and hoody. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for sending Vanya and Diego’s new friend running screaming out of the house because she’d caught a glimpse of the Horror, which was mercifully quiet and still. Now and then he felt it creeping along below the skin, but it wasn’t being too insistent about it. Still. He couldn’t let his guard down.
“So like, you know you’ll have to bring them to the vet and get their shots and get them fixed and all that?”
He nodded. “I actually took them last week, they got worm medicine and stuff.” Allison had done him a big favor by going to the vet’s with him, to...smooth things over.
“Of course, yeah, sorry.” She laughed. “Wow, I just come in here and like, take over.”
“No, no—I appreciate the help. I don’t really know what I’m doing, I just try and follow the directions you give me and what I read.”
“Well, it seems like you got this under control to me.”
He didn’t. At all. But it was nice that she thought so.
He hoped he could get Allison to do him one more favor when it was time to get them vaccinated. Somehow their father hadn’t found out about the kittens yet—or if he did know, he had chosen not to do anything about it. Yet. If Allison could just help him out with the vet, he thought he’d be about all clear and could start to relax a little bit. They’d make it after all.
“Seriously, thank you for all your help,” he said. “You, um...when you met me, that wasn’t exactly...the best night of my life. But you really helped. So, thanks.”
“We’ve all been there,” she said, with her earnest, sort of goofy grin, a little crooked, so sincere and disarming. No, he thought. No, we really haven’t all been there—but he found himself smiling back. “I’m just glad I could help, even if it was only a little. Do they have names yet?”
“No... I mean, they sort of have nicknames, just so I can call them something, but...not real names yet.”
He refused to name them Nine, Ten, Eleven, and Twelve. That may have been cute once, but they at least deserved original names.
“Well, if you want help coming up with names, hit me up. But I’m sure you’ll come up with good ones.”
“Maybe I should just let whoever adopts them name them.”
“They’re your babies though,” she said, lifting one of the kittens into her lap. “Are you going to give them all away?”
“I don’t know yet. I don’t think our dad would really want a cat...but maybe we’ll keep one, when we move out...”
“Maybe I could take care of one. We already have a cat at home, but I'll miss her when I leave.”
“Really? You’d take one?”
“Sure. You’ve already done all the hard work,” she said, grinning.
“Do you have a lot of pets? Besides the cat.”
“There’s the cat and then I also have a tarantula.”
“A...what?”
She laughed. “Uh, yeah. Her name’s Queen Mab, Mab for short—it's like a Shakespeare thing, ‘cause my stepdad’s a huge nerd. She’s really his pet more so than mine, but whatever.”
“You have a tarantula...as a pet?”
“You’ve never heard of that before?” she said, laughing, like he was the weird one.
“I mean, I guess I’ve heard of it, like on TV, but not in real life!”
“Well, she’s a Mexican redknee tarantula and Dad sort of rescued her. Apparently, this guy he knew way back when wanted an exotic pet but didn’t really get that a tarantula can be a twenty-year commitment.”
“Twenty years?”
“Yeah, crazy, right? Mab’s an old lady now, but she’s had a good long life.”
“What do you... do with a pet tarantula?”
“Well, they are venomous, and they can bite, so she’s not the kind of pet you cuddle. Not that she’d probably even want to cuddle. She’s really interesting to watch. I don’t know. You just appreciate that she’s there, doing her thing. We can’t really release her, so the best thing to do is just take good care of her.”
“That’s...um. Neat?” He tried to suppress a shudder, imagining cuddling a tarantula. Jamie looked at him, a faint smile on her face. “You don’t like spiders.”
He grimaced. “I’m not...crazy about them.”
There was really no other creature that triggered his gag reflex on sight. He had no idea why—it had just always been that way. He was embarrassed and ashamed of his reaction to them, and had tried to fight it down, had made himself watch them crawling up the sides of the bathtub, a sort of DIY exposure therapy, but looking at them, even thinking about them, still made something in his stomach clench and his skin prickle.
“Not too many people are,” she said. “But they’re actually really cool animals. Like, okay, tarantulas don’t make typical spiderwebs, but they do spin silk, and there’s this new research coming out that says a spider’s web is sort of like an extension of its brain? It’s called extended cognition, I think. Sort of like how if you write something down, that’s like a piece of your mind now on the paper.”
“That is interesting.”
And it was. Truly. He appreciated that information. It just didn’t erase the need to gag when he thought about a spider’s eight spindly legs crawling along his skin, it’s eyes, it’s mouth, the way they moved. It wasn’t a rational fear, it went beyond an aversion to something dangerous, it was involuntary and reflexive, like a leg jerking at the tap of a hammer just above the knee.
And the idea that this incurable, visceral, gut reaction of horror was what people felt when they looked at Them—
He tried not to think about it.
What if there was no getting around disgust? What if, for all the intellectual appreciation you could cultivate, all the empathy, the horror remained? What if sometimes it was no use, plumbing the depths of what it meant to be afraid, picking apart the whats and whys—what if the roots ran too deep, and the fear could not be rooted out and overcome? What if repulsion could not be reconciled or reckoned with? What if some things were felt so deeply within the body that it did not matter how sympathetic the heart or mind had become—the stomach still rebelled, rejected the object of horror?
Jamie laughed. “It’s okay. Lots of people don’t like spiders.”
“But I don’t want to not like spiders.”
Her head tilted as she studied him, a question in her eyes. Had he said something wrong? Or was it the way he’d said it—all too earnestly, like too much was at stake?
“What do you mean?”
“Well, just—I feel bad, you know? There’s no good reason to be so creeped out. I’d rather see them like you do.”
“Well. Maybe you can come meet Mab, and let her be your spider sponsor.”
He forced himself to smile, as if the idea didn’t make him want to be sick. “Sure.”
He didn’t even really register in the moment that he was being invited over to someone’s house.
Footsteps bound up the stairs, and then Vanya and Diego stood in the doorway.
“Hey. We didn’t know you were here,” Diego said.
“Just had to say hi to these guys first,” she said, lifting a kitten off her lap. “And you, I guess,” she said, grinning at Ben.
If he sort of trailed along behind the three of them all day, like the annoying little sibling who just wouldn’t go away, at least nobody had the heart to tell him to leave them alone.
Of course, Dad found out about the kittens.
It came up one morning at breakfast. Ben was reading and startled badly when out of nowhere their father said, “Number Six.”
His fork rattled against his plate and in his haste to sit up straight and shut his book, he nearly knocked Vanya’s glass of water over. “Yes?”
“I was waiting for you to address the animals you’ve been keeping in your room with me, but I’ve come to conclude that you have no intention of doing so. So this is me, addressing it.”
He flicked his eyes around the table, meeting a mixture of sympathetic and avoidant gazes. “They were all on their own,” he blurted. “They would’ve died if I hadn’t taken care of them.”
“Mm. Yes. I have no doubt they would have. Small animals tend to do that.”
“Well...so...that’s why I had to take them in.”
“How charitable. I’m sure they’re very grateful,” his father said, peering for a second over his paper at Ben, whose face burned under that piercing, knowing gaze.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask for permission,” he mumbled.
“How old are you now, Number Six?”
Ben blinked at the pages of the paper which had returned to obscure his father’s face. “Seventeen?”
“Speak up.”
“Seventeen.”
Hargreeves folded the paper and momentarily lowered it, looking around the table and addressing all of them. “Old enough, I would think, to understand the important distinction between obedience and dependency. Thoughtless rebellion and blind lackeyism are equal signs of a weak mind. I have sought to foster order and discipline in you children—never dependency. I find that the lowest form of parasitism, and I have no use for parasites.”
Ben flinched. He couldn’t help it. That word, out of his father’s mouth, directed even in the most sideways way at himself, felt damning.
But then Hargreeves went on. “You didn’t ask permission because you didn’t believe it would be forthcoming. You aren’t sorry for that action, so don’t make empty apologies. You took it upon yourself to make a decision, without first stopping to ask for the permission of everyone you could find. A first—I was beginning to doubt you had it in you. I trust you possess the discretion and good judgement to know when it is time to decide, and when it is time to obey. I’ve taught you well enough to trust in that, I should think. Any shortcomings from here on out I can only attribute to an unfortunate but irremediable lack of potential on your part.”
He still couldn’t tell if he was being scolded or...well, not praised, exactly, that would be going a step too far, but...acknowledged, maybe. At least it wasn’t an outright reprimand. There was never any doubt, when that was the case.
At times like these, he considered it best to remain silent. He’d only say something stupid and bring more unwanted attention on himself at this point.
And Hargreeves had unfolded his paper once more anyway, apparently done delivering roundabout lectures for the morning. He turned the page, eyes scanning swiftly left to right, and added, so offhandedly it seemed like an entirely unrelated point: “You understand this isn’t a shelter, and I can’t have strays running all over the place. So long as you continue to be as discrete as you’ve so far managed, the little beasts can stay until you find them proper lodgings, or get bored and turn them back out, I suppose. Clearly, you’ve taken more responsibility for them than I’d have imagined you capable of. See to it that remains the case, and that they don’t distract you from your studies, or I will have to intervene.”
It was an unexpected victory, of sorts. Or was it? Somehow, their transgressions felt more like victory when they were secret. Once accepted, with all the ensuing exceptions and ultimatums and commentary, they became just another task—another challenge, incorporated into training, because that’s what everything was, in some way, even the things that didn’t seem to be so, at first.
Of course, there was no victory here. Just a box full of helpless animals.
He was reading on his bed when Vanya came knocking.
“Hey,” she said. “Jamie’s asking for kitten pictures. Can I come in?”
“Oh. Yeah, of course.”
Vanya knelt by the kitten playpen. By blocking off the staircase, he’d started to be able to let them have free reign of the hall outside, and any bedrooms with open doors. He never could relax while they were exploring; he spent the whole time tense, distracted by constantly checking in on their heartbeats, making sure he could still feel them, that they weren’t going too fast or too slow or vanished altogether.
“How is she?” he asked, sliding off the bed to sit beside her, watching her take pictures.
“Good,” Vanya said. “She actually asked me to give you her number, so you could send the pictures yourself, but you know. Had to tell her you didn’t really text. Here, hold these guys,” she said, plopping two kittens into his lap. He gathered them in his arms on reflex and she snapped a picture, smiling at the screen of her phone. Her phone. Why did she look so natural typing on that phone when he had hardly touched his?
Then he remembered that he had no one to call. Anyone he could want to talk to was already here, in the house.
“What are you saying to her?” he said, leaning over to peer at the screen.
Vanya nudged him away. “Telling her the kittens are doing good with you totally spoiling them all the time.”
“Wait,” he said. “But I do have a phone.” It was the same one they’d all received when they were thirteen—for emergencies. (All of them, except for Vanya. Vanya, who, having never been in an emergency, had no need for one. She’d had to acquire her own, through no-doubt humiliating negotiations with Allison.) It was a sturdy, blocky thing of their father’s design that probably could survive being dropped out of a plane, it was so solid. It sat gathering dust on the topmost bookshelf.
Now he got it down and rejoined Vanya on the floor, looking at her expectantly.
“Really?” she said. “Are you serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t think you’d be into this kind of thing,” she said, taking his phone and navigating to the contacts. There were seven of them—his siblings and his father.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said.
She shrugged, handing him the phone back. The screen blinked at him on the new contact page. Jamie Morales, ten digits. He stared at it in fascination. This had never happened before. It felt like a lot of power, having that number. He could talk to someone outside the house.
“You’ve just never been big on meeting people, I guess,” she said.
That wasn’t fair. How was he supposed to meet people? He didn’t know the first thing about talking to other people. He got all of the social interaction he needed—sometimes more than he wanted, living with all of them. What more could he want from strangers who didn’t know the first thing about him?
“It’s not like I don’t want to meet people,” he mumbled. “I just don’t really...know how.”
“Well, Jamie’s really nice, so don’t be shy, if you want to talk to her.”
“Really? I can just do that?”
“Yeah, it was her idea,” Vanya said, shrugging. “Like I said, she’s nice, she’ll be anybody’s friend.”
She’d be anybody’s friend, meaning—even yours. He didn’t think Vanya had meant that to sound scathing. He was sure he was just being too sensitive. Still. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“What should I say?”
“I don’t know—hi? You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to.”
“I do,” he said, too quickly. “I just don’t know what. What do people...say, to each other?”
“Don’t overthink it, you’ll make it weird.”
“That’s why I’m asking you for help,” he said, pained. “I don’t want it to be weird.”
“I don’t know...it’s not like I’m the master of conversation, you know. I guess when we met her, we just talked about our interests. Like about music and stuff. That’s still pretty much what we talk about, nothing too deep or personal or anything.”
“So, she...she really doesn’t know who we are, right?”
“She knows who our Dad is and she’s seen where we live. We haven’t really told her anything specific, but we also haven’t tried to hide anything—I'm pretty sure she knows the general idea, unless she’s been living under a rock.”
“But like...she doesn’t know who’s who? Like...you just told her our names...our name names, not...the other stuff?”
“No way, I totally make a habit of introducing all my siblings by their stupid shitty code names. Seriously? I mean, come on.”
“You...didn’t though, right?”
“No, Ben.”
“Okay, okay, sorry. I’m just making sure.”
Her voice softened. “I get it. I really do, you know. It’s not like I want to be friends with someone who’s already got ideas about who we are, before they even get to know us. Honestly, if she did, I don’t know if I’d really be hanging out with her. Hard to befriend someone who already thinks they know more than they do about us or our family.”
On that, they were in complete agreement.
Jamie didn’t know about Them. Jamie only knew him, by himself—she thought that was all. She’d never seen Them.
He didn’t know how to feel about that. It was like holding something new and rare and not being able to do anything with it at all because he was so aware of how easily he could break it.
He stared down at the little blinking message box for a long time, wondering what to say. What to say to this person, who for some reason was nice to him, and willing to speak to him, this person who didn’t know about the Horror. It made him almost giddy. He thought about what to say all through dinner, and then curled up at the end of the sofa in the library, phone clumsily hidden behind a book, shoulders hunched as he tapped out a message and sent it before he could lose his nerve.
He ended up sending a picture he’d taken of Vanya earlier, with all four kittens climbing on top of her.
“Hi Jamie! This is Ben, Diego and Vanya’s brother. Vanya said you asked her to give me your phone number so I could give you an update on the kittens—they're doing good! I’m still thinking of names, but I think I’ll just leave it up to whoever ends up taking them in. Hope everything is good with you!”
As soon as the message sent, he shut the phone and stuffed it in his pocket, heart pounding. He couldn’t stand to look at it again. Oh, god. He’d really done that. He couldn’t take it back. It was done.
He tried to read his book, but it was torture. He’d done it. Ruined his one chance at talking to someone outside the house, a new person, someone who knew nothing about him.
(Nothing except that she’d seen him on one of the worst nights of his life—but he was trying not to think about that.)
The minutes dragged by. It was fine. She wasn’t going to reply. Vanya had already given her the kitten update anyway—what more was there to talk about? It was good that she wasn’t going to reply. He had nothing to say. He’d only reveal what a boring and inconsequential person he was, if he said any more. Best to leave it there.
Eight minutes after his first text, his phone buzzed. The sudden vibration was unexpected. He startled, the thing rippling beneath his skin, sharing his surprise.
“Hi Ben! Oh my god what an amazing picture so cute! If they were mine, I’d be selfish and name them all myself haha but you can totally let other people name them...you should still name one though, what about the one you said you guys might keep? Everything's good here just having dinner and watching jeopardy with my parents...how about u?”
He stared at the message as though it were some code he had to break. He realized he was grinning and tried to stop. She was just being polite. She didn’t really want to talk to him. Why would she? He was a stranger. He was just the brother of her new friends. He shouldn’t read too much into her friendliness. That was just her personality. Vanya had even said so.
“That sounds like fun! We used to watch that sometimes, but...it got a little too competitive. You should ask Diego about that sometime, he used to take his Jeopardy very seriously. I’m just reading. If we do keep one of the kittens, my sister will probably name it. It was Allison’s idea to take one with us, so I guess it would kind of be her cat then.”
“Oh my god I'll totally ask him about that. Is he a sore loser? I bet he is. You only have two sisters right? And a bunch of brothers?”
“I wouldn’t call him a sore loser, just competitive. Yup, two sisters and four brothers, what about you?”
“One older brother. He's my stepbrother actually but u know. He's at college right now. Wow, six siblings...that sounds both really fun and really annoying haha”
“I don’t know, I can’t really imagine what it would be like without all of them. Do you miss your brother since he’s at college?” Then he added, “Sorry, you don’t have to answer if that’s too personal!”
“No worries! Yeah I do miss him but not too much honestly, he still comes home and visits pretty often and we talk on the phone and all that. Plus I think moving out was good for him, he’s way more chill and less annoying now lol”
“What are you doing?” Klaus said, flopping onto the couch beside Ben.
“Nothing.”
“Are you texting? ” Klaus said, grinning. “Wow. A shocking new development. Who do you even have to text?”
“It’s nothing, don’t make it a big deal...”
“But who ?” Klaus’ grin widened. “Oh my god, is it that girl? The only groupie of the shittiest secret band to ever never have played a single set?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Diego said, throwing a pillow at Klaus which smacked him right in the face.
“You’re texting Jamie?” Vanya said.
“Ben’s texting someone?” Allison said, sounding all too intrigued.
“Oh my god,” he mumbled.
“What are you talking about?” Klaus said.
“Nothing! Just--the cats!”
“Sure,” Klaus said, raising his brows.
“Do I know this person?” Allison asked.
“No, I don’t think you’ve met her,” Diego said. “We haven’t known her that long, she just likes a lot of the same music, we met her at a show.”
“How does Ben know her and I don’t?”
“You don’t have a monopoly on knowing other people, you know,” Vanya said.
Allison flipped her curls over her shoulder, brushing that comment off effortlessly, only a slight sheepish grin hinting at her embarrassment. “I know that. But, come on, this is news, you guys should have told me. Good for you, Ben.”
She probably didn’t mean for that to sound so patronizing. Still. Sometimes the intent didn’t have anything to do with the impact.
“You talk to people all the time, it’s not a big deal,” he said, even though—yeah, it was kind of a big deal, actually.
“Yeah, but you don’t! This is good. I’m glad for you,” she said, sounding pleased.
Right. If he was showing interest in talking to other people, of course she’d take that as a good sign as far as him moving out of the house was concerned.
Was that what this meant? But texting one person for the first time was a lot different than moving out, and having to talk to new people all of the time. And not just with a phone—in person. It wasn’t at all equivalent.
Still. He liked that she was happy with him.
How did one end a text conversation?
He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t need to know. He didn’t want to. Over the next few days, the conversation just continued, like a tapestry unrolling before him. There were pauses and intermissions, but they picked up where they left off or jumped to an entirely new topic like it was perfectly natural and they’d known each other for much longer than a few weeks.
It was perfect. It was so much easier to talk this way. He could think about his replies, he could edit them. He could read back and remind himself what she’d said before. Granted, the nuances of tone and expression weren’t as easily picked up over text, but...
But that was well worth the sacrifice. She couldn’t see him. He didn’t have to worry the entire time that at any moment now, he was going to give himself away and frighten or disgust her and make her never want to talk to him again. He could actually pay attention to the conversation, instead of worrying about and policing his body. It was a conversation between two disembodied voices. It was exhilarating. For the first time in his life, someone was getting to know him without knowing Them at all. She knew him better than she would have, had she known what he was—her idea of him was untroubled and undistorted by the presence of the Horror. Finally, finally, finally, someone knew him for what he was, and not for what They were.
That’s how it felt, at first. Not like hiding something vital and essential, but like being free and honest and more himself than he had been before.
Later, he would try to find the moment when that had all changed. When it had started to feel instead like playing the role of somebody else entirely, when the act of hiding began to feel like a lie or a betrayal, of himself and of her. It must have happened, he would decide, in whatever moment her friendship had become something precious to him. Paradoxically, in the moment when he began to truly care what she thought of him, when he most desired her acceptance—that must have been the moment he had begun burning with the need to tell her the very thing he had thought most likely to drive her away.
Something terrible was happening to him. Whenever he thought of her, he felt ill.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
“You’re always smiling at that phone now,” Allison said. They were going over their applications, which were due soon. They had everything they needed in order. It was really happening.
His face heated up and he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be—it's sweet. I’m glad you’ve got someone to talk to outside of the house. It’s good for you—at least, I think so. It’s been good for me.”
He nodded, feeling a little guilty about the admission. That didn’t seem right—it shouldn’t be a betrayal, that he enjoyed talking to someone outside his family. The feeling lingered anyway. “Yeah. She sees things so differently. I mean, I knew the way we grew up was...unconventional? But I’d always just think, well, that makes sense, it was never going to be totally, you know, normal. And that’s okay, lots of people don’t have a totally regular childhood. But talking to someone else makes me see just how different things are. Like stuff I took for granted my whole life, that I thought was just how things are, isn’t actually the way I thought it was. It didn’t have to be that way. I don’t know. Does that make sense?”
“I know what you mean. Don’t get me wrong...Luther might think that because I’m leaving, I’m rejecting everything about our lives here, but that’s not true. There’s a lot that I...that I wouldn’t change, despite it all. But...yeah, I hear what you’re saying. I think it’s important to grow up and see, oh, like—there are other ways, people live in all kinds of ways, it didn’t have to be...exactly like that.”
“Yeah.”
They were quiet for a while, going over their application materials. Then she spoke, a smile curling the edges of her mouth. “So, is that all you like about her?”
“What—what do you mean?”
“Oh, come on, don’t play dumb.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about how someone has got what might be the most obvious crush in the whole world.”
“What? Allison, that’s, that's not—no. I don’t know what you’re—me? Her? I have no idea why you'd even—that’s, that’s gross.”
She laughed. “Gross? What are you, twelve? Aw, just look at you—don't be so embarrassed, I think it’s sweet! Can’t we talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Are you serious?”
“We’re just friends.”
“Well, I know that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little crush. It doesn’t have to be such a big deal, you know.”
Ben stared down at his desk, fingers twisting the fabric of his jacket in his lap. “That would be...kind of weird though, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that bad? If you don’t know how the other person feels, I mean, then that seems wrong, doesn’t it?”
Allison frowned, propping her elbow on the desk and leaning her cheek against her fist. “What? No way. How would that be bad? They’re just feelings, Ben, it can happen to anyone. I think it’s just normal. It’s not like you're being a creep about it or anything.”
“Oh. Well...I don’t know. I don’t know if I feel that way. It’s not like there’s ever been anybody else around to feel like that about.”
“Right. Uh-huh.”
“So how would I know?”
“Well...how does she make you feel?”
He shrugged, his face burning. “I don’t know. Happy?”
“And? Like, I don’t know—does she give you butterflies? Don’t laugh, I know it's a cliché, but it’s a cliché for a reason.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what that’s supposed to feel like.”
“Like a, you know, fluttery feeling? It’s hard to explain,” she said, playing with the charm on the end of her pen and avoiding meeting his eyes, which was fine by him. “Does she make you feel like that?”
“She makes me feel sort of sick sometimes. Is that what you mean?”
“Um...maybe?”
“Oh, no...this is horrible.”
“What? Why?”
He put his face in his hands. “She’s the only person I’ve ever gotten to know besides you guys, and now I’m ruining it, even faster than I thought I would.”
“What? Oh, come on, don’t you think that’s a little dramatic? How are you ruining it?”
“With my...you know. Feelings.”
Allison laughed. “You haven’t ruined anything! Look, I’m sorry, if I knew this was going to give you some kind of crisis, I wouldn’t have brought it up. I was just teasing you. Maybe it’s a crush, or maybe it’s just that you guys get along well and it’s always a good feeling, to make a new friend. Either way, it’s nothing to be upset about.”
“But...don’t I need to know which it is? Don’t I need to do something about it?”
“Um...no? You don’t need to do anything. Just, whatever you’ve been doing.”
“Oh. Okay then.” He was quiet for a while, thinking. “I think...she’s kind of important to me. I mean, not the way you guys are. But as a friend. I think...I think I’m just nervous, because I’ve never really had one before, and I don’t want to mess it up. It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t really know anything about the Academy. Somebody who’s never been, you know—who doesn’t know me well enough to have ever been scared or grossed out or whatever. I’ve never talked to anyone like that before.”
Allison frowned. "I understand how it's nice, getting to know people on your own terms. But, hey...you don't really mean the rest of that, do you? You know that’s not true.”
He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and smile at her. “I know.”
She looked at him for a second during which he looked down, around the room, back at her. He forced himself to hold her gaze, to show that he was fine, and this wasn’t making something soft and barely held together in his heart quiver. "I mean, really, Ben. Come on, I know we've always teased each other, but you don't have to take everything so much to heart."
"I know. You're right. It was a dumb thing to say. I don't really think...I don't know why I said it."
Her voice was low and surprisingly sad when she spoke. She sounded much older. “We weren’t very nice to each other, growing up, were we.”
He smiled. “We were just kids. Kids aren’t always nice.”
“Yeah. I guess so. But I just...there are some things I really wish I could go back and do differently, you know? Sometimes I remember something one of us said, and I just cringe. Especially to Vanya, and, well, to you. How could we not have known how mean we were being? We must have known, right? Or did we just not care? And that’s...that’s terrible, to think. Because you do take things to heart. Maybe we all do, in our own ways, and we just don't like to admit it.”
Ben squirmed, fidgeting with his pen, twisting the cap off and on. “What are you talking about? No, you were—you were all great. And if there’s something you want to say to Vanya—it’s not too late, you know, I’m sure she’d—you guys could talk about it. I mean, it’s true, I think, that...that if there’s one of us we owe an apology, it’s probably her. Of course, we’ve all said things we wish we could take back, but I can’t think of anything that was so terrible, Allison, nothing for you to feel so bad about, at least not to me.” She laughed softly and he rushed to go on. “I mean that, don’t laugh. I really mean it.”
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Try and make me feel better, about things that I did wrong. Ways I guess I might have hurt you.”
“You didn’t, though. Really, it’s okay, you don’t need to—”
“It’s not though. I have to say this. How can I not, when you just said you think I’m scared, or, or disgusted by you or something? How do you think I can just let that go, how could that ever be okay?”
“I...I didn’t mean it like that, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize—please don’t say sorry for that, not to me. Sometimes I think about—about things we said to each other, stupid things we did that I thought were funny or okay at the time, like—if I could get away with it, that meant it was fine. I did it to everyone, god, I could really be a brat...but you let me get away with a lot. That makes it sound like I’m saying it’s your fault, but it’s not, it's just my own stupid justification. Like, if you were really upset, then you’d fight back, wouldn't you? That’s the kind of anger I understand. I tried to push you so you’d hurt me back, so we’d be even. But you weren’t like that.”
“Allison...it’s okay. I think you’re making it sound worse than it was. We were kids, none of us have ever been perfect. There are things I’d do differently, if I could...not just when we were kids, I mean, I do things I wish I could do differently sort of all the time? I’m sure I’ve done things that hurt you, too.”
She laughed. Neither of them could quite meet the other’s gaze. “But I’m the one trying to apologize here—I've got a point to make, I’m just trying to get to it. I could be having this conversation with any one of you guys, it’s true, but...but I feel like maybe I’m only ready to have it with you, and I don’t know—maybe you’ll listen, maybe you’re the one who needs to hear it the most right now.”
She twisted the cap on her pen, clicking it on and off. “I remember so many things. So many times I could have done better. Like that time in the field, when we all just—just stared at you, and like, that time when me and Diego said you should be on that show, that horrible show we all knew you hated, and we made fun of you, and I got so angry, because you were so upset over nothing and that made me feel like a horrible person. But the problem couldn’t be with me—it had to be you, you were just too sensitive.”
Allison scoffed under her breath, shaking her head. “I said that to you all the time. Maybe you don’t even remember, but I just—I still think about it. Like, the look on your face, when I came in and you were holding Number Eight in my room, and, and—that time you asked me to rumor you, about the rabbits, and—and we all knew what he made you do, but I never asked how you felt about it, never tried to find out if I could help you. Why didn't we ever try to help each other? I guess I was just scared. Or...complacent. Everything seemed fine enough, why should I stick my neck out and rock the boat, right?”
“Allison,” he said. Stop. That’s enough. His voice came out small and quiet and he couldn’t make it work again.
She spoke faster. “I tried to pretend nothing was wrong. Maybe I...maybe I didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to understand. Because...because my training was never like that. I didn’t have...things have been different, for all of us. That’s not to say I haven’t...I mean, I’ve had my own...you know. It was just different. And I...I didn’t have the same difficulty some of you have. I mean...you and Klaus, I guess. It was always...I won’t say easy. But I was always good at it. And when it’s over, I can leave it behind. I really can. But it makes it harder for me to believe that everything’s fine, that I’m fine, when I have to see what it’s done to...the rest of you. So sometimes I just...try not to see it.”
She paused and wiped her eyes. Outside in the hall someone pounded up the stairs, and then a door slammed. There was a thread coming loose on the sleeve of his jumper. He pulled at it and then stopped, alarmed at how easily it unraveled. He tried smoothing it down, but the loose end still stuck out, ready to catch on something.
She was quiet when she continued. “Maybe we shouldn’t bring these things back up, but it kills me, remembering, and seeing how you just—learned to try and hide things, like you were—I don’t know, ashamed. I can’t stand thinking that we made you that way, just because we were stupid, mean little kids who didn’t think twice before speaking, just because of this place, this house. Maybe you’ve forgotten. But I haven’t. And I needed you to know that, I guess.”
He stared at her, speechless for a moment. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, kept her gaze downcast. She was blinking a lot. “Of course I remember. How could I not remember all that? But I had no idea that anybody else did. I didn’t know you...I didn’t know.”
Her face crumpled as she struggled to hold her composure. She gave a shaky laugh. “Of course you remember. I think I only did recently. It’s all this planning to move out, you know. Whenever I think about the future, I end up thinking about the past. Do you—do you think about that stuff a lot?”
“No. Not...not all the time. We had a lot of good times too, you know? That’s what I’d rather think about. Why focus on the rest?”
Allison took a breath and angled her body to face him, hands spreading open on the desk between them where she kept her gaze fixed. “Here’s the thing, Ben—I know that you love me. I know you love all of us. But I also know that there might be things that you can’t forget. I know there are things that might make you angry, that still hurt, and you might have a hard time forgiving all of them, and that’s okay. I understand that and it’s okay and you can feel both things at once. I know I do. All the time. And I want you to know that—that whatever you do. Even if...even if you choose to stay here. I’m still going to be on your side, okay? I’m always going to be on your side, rooting for you, wanting the best things for you. But if you stay—don’t let it be because you’re scared, or ashamed. You’re a good person, Ben, and you need to...you need to be yourself now, and live for that person, okay? Whatever that means for you. You have to. I know how that sounds, like a bad cliché, but it’s the truth, for all of us. Don’t let what’s happened here, all that stuff you can’t forget—don't let that hold you back. You can’t. You have to be better and stronger now than we were then. It’s important. Okay?”
She sniffed and rubbed her thumb in the corner of both her eyes. When he blinked, his vision wavered for a second beneath a film of water. “You too,” he said. “You too, Allison.” He cleared his throat, glanced at the door. “Well. That was...a lot."
She laughed. “Yeah. I don’t know if any of that made any sense at all. I’m sorry, maybe I’ve just totally embarrassed myself and none of that meant anything to you. So maybe we can just not mention this ever again and pretend it didn't happen?”
“No. No, I just—I think you’re...I think you’re ahead of me. I just don’t know what to say yet.”
“It’s okay. I just threw a lot at you, I’d be overwhelmed, too.”
“But thank you. Thank you, Allie.”
He wanted the perfect words now—but they weren’t there. He just thanked her, and she hugged him, and he hoped that this was enough to hold them together, amidst the depth of all they had said and the things they didn’t have the words yet to say.
“So, this friend of yours,” Klaus said. “She’s not a fan, is she?”
“What?”
“I mean, just hear me out on this. She made friends with Vanya and Diego by chance, but then she figures out whose kids they are, and now she’s texting you all the time, so...do you see where I’m going with this?”
Ben frowned at him over the top of his book. Klaus was seated on the floor, legs crossed, body slumped in an approximation of a casual slouch, but there was nervous tension in his shoulders as he picked at the black polish on his nails.
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re sure she’s not...oh, how to put this delicately...trying to collect them all?”
Ben stared, giving his brother a chance to take back what he’d said, or to clarify his meaning to be something less hurtful. When he didn’t, Ben said, “You think she’s only talking to me because...she knows about our family?”
“Well, look, not to toot my own horn or anything, but we are kind of famous, and maybe she’s into that. I’m not saying that’s a fact, I’m just—”
“Well, good, because it’s not. That’s stupid. Why would anyone want to befriend us because of that? If anything, knowing who we are should make regular people stay away.”
Klaus shrugged, expression impassive, as if they were discussing nothing more significant than the weather. “Some people see it differently. Look, I’m just saying, you’re sure you’re not like—a curiosity, to her?”
Ben opened and shut his mouth, grasping for words for a moment. “That’s what you think? That’s the only reason you can imagine anybody would want to talk to us?”
“I’m just asking, it’s a possibility! Everybody has an angle, right?”
“Well, Jamie never even asks about the Academy or powers, or any of that stuff. She doesn’t even know what I—who I am, like, in that context, at all, so—so that doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Okay,” Klaus said, holding up his palms. “I was just putting it out there. But you say that’s not how it is, so then, great, that’s not how it is, end of story. What do I know?”
Klaus let the subject drop, and Ben did his best to bury his doubts.
To rebury them, that is. It wasn’t fair to resent Klaus for having voiced what were, after all, his own worries. But plenty of things weren’t fair. Why should this be?
Those were the kinds of thoughts he had, when he was feeling uncharitable. He saved them for when he was alone, and then he berated himself for being such a terrible person with such callous thoughts, and then he stamped those thoughts down so that he could almost pretend he’d never had them at all, that he was still the person they called the nice one.
He’d never particularly felt that he deserved the designation, but it made for excellent camouflage.
Jamie invited them over to her house on a Saturday. They took the bus to meet her. He sat between Diego and Vanya. The Horror was curled up small beneath his skin, squirming and tense and coiled tight like a spring ready to snap open, but it was keeping itself tucked out of sight, huddled down inside their body where it was safe. It understood safe—understood that for however small and fragile he was on his own, he was also their armor. Able to move through this alien world, all their soft and vulnerable parts hidden away, safe inside of him while none of these strangers suspected a thing.
He was able to forget, most of the time, how it felt being around other people—people who weren’t his siblings, weren’t criminals or hostages who saw him for what he was. He was able to forget how it felt to be keenly aware of himself as a person-shaped vessel for something awful. Not one of these people knew what he was. What would they do, if they did?
He never felt more alien than when he was surrounded by regular people, and with a sick shudder that was part relief, part revulsion, part thrill, realized what a convincing human he made on the surface.
Before they’d left the house, there had been a certain amount of tension between the three of them—he got the feeling that they hadn’t expected him to actually accept the invitation, and were a bit miffed that he was edging in on their outside-the-house life. By the time they were on the bus, most of that tension had faded, replaced with what he might tentatively call a wary concern.
“Relax, man,” Diego said. “You’re making me nervous.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re shivering,” Vanya said.
“It’s cold.”
“You’ve got on like, thirty layers.”
“I just don’t want to mess anything up.”
They were quiet for a moment. Then Diego bumped their shoulders together, and just like that, the cagey tension had turned protective. “You won’t,” he said, as if he could be so sure.
And, as it turned out, maybe he could be. The sun was shining in the park when they got off the bus. The people there went on jogging and walking their dogs and talking to one another. The world kept turning without taking any apparent notice of the three of them as they walked across the grass towards Jamie, where she was standing under a tree looking down at her phone. Diego called out to her and she looked up and smiled at them, waved.
They walked outside in the sunlight and nothing caught fire. No one stopped to stare. The sky continued not to fall.
He almost couldn’t remember what in the world he’d been so afraid of.
In the apartment where Jamie lived with her family, her stepfather was puttering around in the kitchen while a jazz record played. He smiled and greeted them when they came in the door.
“So you three must be Diego, Ben, and Vanya. I know I’ve heard Jamie mention your names a lot lately, but I don’t know who’s who,” he said, grinning and studying the three of them, as if he might somehow be able to divine their identities by sight alone.
Diego made their introductions, sticking out his hand and saying, “It’s nice to meet you too, sir.”
Jamie’s father shook his hand, looking both surprised and amused. “What polite friends you’ve got, maybe they’ll be a good influence on you.”
Jamie rolled her eyes and dragged them away, but she was smiling, so Ben didn’t think she was really upset at her father at all—but then, he found it difficult to parse household dynamics outside of the ones he was familiar with, so he couldn’t be sure. There was much here that he didn’t understand. He hoped it was not too late to learn.
Later, she showed him the spider. “This is Mab,” she said, her voice quiet as they bent down together to peer into the tank. “She’s pretty, don’t you think?”
He suppressed a queasy shudder as he watched the spider’s hairy legs moving slowly in their synchronized rhythm. Perhaps its back would feel like velvet if he were to touch it—but the thought of touching it repulsed him. He glanced at Jamie and saw in her eyes all of the love and admiration and curiosity he did not feel, but wanted to. But because she did, it existed out there in the world, and maybe he could find it for himself one day, if he kept looking, so he turned his gaze back to the spider and made himself look closer.
“Yes,” he said. “I guess she is.”
It was the truth—one day, he hoped to believe in it.
Diego ducked into the library while Ben was curled on the sofa staring intently at his phone. “You seen Klaus?”
Ben shook his head without looking up. “He hasn’t been in here.”
“Okay, thanks,” Diego said, turning to go. Instead, he paused and stepped closer. “Who are you talking to?”
“Jamie.”
Diego nodded. He looked down at his shoes, stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifted his weight from foot to foot. Ben watched his brother from the corner of his eye, becoming increasingly disturbed. He sat up on the sofa and looked at Diego. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. No, it’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Diego nodded. He wouldn’t quite meet Ben’s eye when he said, “Just...you and her talk a lot now, huh.”
“I...guess?”
“That’s cool.”
They stared at each other for a second, before Ben looked back down at his phone. “Okay. Feel free to let me know why you’re being weird whenever you’re ready.”
“I just...she doesn’t know who you are, does she?”
Ben looked back up at him, brow creasing. “What?”
“I mean, like...you haven’t talked to her about the Academy, or any of that, right? You haven’t told her, like...which one of us you are?”
“No. You and Vanya said you guys don’t talk about that stuff with her, so why would I?”
“I don’t know. Never mind, forget it,” Diego said, looking uncomfortable.
“No, tell me...what is it?”
“So, you don’t think she knows you’re the Horror?”
Ben stared at him, clutching the phone in his hands. “What did you tell her?”
“Hang on, wait a minute,” Diego said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t tell her anything, I was just making sure you didn’t tell her. It’s just—don’t get mad, I’m just trying to look out for you, all right? It’s just that... Look, Jamie is kind of into weird freaky stuff, you know? Which, like, that’s cool and all, whatever, but I could just imagine her being curious about, you know, you, and...am I making sense?”
“Wh...what?”
“Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
“She doesn’t even know about Them. That’s not—that can’t be why she wants to be my friend.”
“I know, I wasn’t saying that, of course it’s not. I never meant it like that, I just meant...I don't know.”
“You meant that I’m ‘weird, freaky stuff.’”
Diego scowled and crossed his arms. “Don’t take that out of context, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
“Do you really have to give me a hard time about this? I was just checking, just trying to look out for you. Of course that’s not why she’s your friend, she’s not an asshole, but if she knew, I just know she’d be curious and want to ask you about it, and I know you’d hate that and probably be really uncomfortable and it would just be this whole thing for no reason, just like you’re making this right now. Forget it, it was just a stupid thought.”
Sure. Done. He’d just forget about it. He definitely wasn’t going to lose any sleep, wondering if this how it was always going to be—either lie and hide, or become an object of disgust or curiosity. Was one better than the other? They’d gone so closely hand in hand so far when it came to Them that at times, they seemed inseparable.
But then, maybe everyone felt that way, to some extent. Carefully folding away the parts of themselves they didn’t want held to the light.
One day, Jamie invited them to come visit her at the place where she did her “community service hours.” They left the house and walked down the block so that no one would see when she picked them up in her mother’s old white sedan, Diego swinging into the passenger seat, Ben and Vanya automatically sliding into the back.
(Earlier, Ben had wondered aloud about what this community service was, and if they should be doing some of it, too. Diego had given him an odd look and said, “I’m pretty sure we do plenty of that already, Ben.”)
She drove them to the edge of the city, where the streets were heavily shaded by trees, and through the gates of the wildlife refuge. The whole ride there, Ben was quiet, listening to the three of them talk as he pressed himself against the door, while the Horror pressed itself against his skin. He wasn’t sure if the pressure was threatening or comforting. Was it possible for anything to be both?
She parked the car and they all got out, following along as she led them down a hard-packed dirt path that wound its way beneath the pines, past a long row of wood and mesh cages. She turned to walk backwards, grinning. His heart squeezed. The smell of the animals was overwhelming. So many small, fluttering things, so close at hand. He felt queasy.
“Here’s where we’ll start the grand tour,” she said, sweeping an arm out to gesture to the cages. “The same place they start all newbie volunteers—with the birds.”
“Why is that?” asked Vanya, leaning down to peer into one of the cages.
“Because they’re mean as hell, and by far the dirtiest,” she said, her grin widening. “Especially the turkey. Ever been attacked by a turkey? It’s not fun. The vulture’s mean, too, and I once had one of the owls dive at me. And since they never finish all their food, when you’re cleaning the bird cages, you’re pretty much going around cleaning up shit and picking up dead chicks and rats that have been sitting out in the sun all day. Good times all around, good times.”
“That’s disgusting,” Diego said, wrinkling his nose and studying the cages at a distance, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You volunteer to do this? They aren’t even paying you?”
“Nope. Not a cent.”
“And you do this why? ”
“Well, it does give me hours, which I need for school. Plus, I don’t know. It’s gross, but I enjoy it. It feels like good work, you know? Somebody’s got to do it, and I feel like this place is really doing something important. The animals can’t say thank you, but I know I’m making their lives better by giving them clean places to live and taking care of them.”
“But why are they all here in the first place?” Ben asked.
“They all have their own reasons. Most of them were either injured or found abandoned when they were young, too young to survive on their own. We release the ones we can, but some of them do live here permanently.”
“I just can’t believe you can spend your time however you want, and this is what you do with it,” Diego grumbled.
“I think it’s really cool,” Vanya said, straightening up from where she’d been crouched by one of the cages, peeking in at a burrowing owl. When Ben glanced at her, she had her gaze cast downwards, a shy smile on her face, her cheeks tinged pink.
Jamie grinned. “I don’t know about that. I mean, it’s sure not being in a punk band. When am I going to get to see you guys play for real?”
“We’re working on it, okay? Any day now,” said Diego.
“Okay, well. You better let me know, I’ll be there,” she said, and when she caught Ben’s eye it felt like she was grinning just for him, as though the two of them shared some joke or secret. His stomach flopped. What was wrong with him? What was this helpless feeling of delicious dread, this giddy nausea? It must be the Horror, getting a little too energetic with its restless fidgeting, rearranging his insides to make itself more comfortable.
She led them past the small mammal enclosures where they saw raccoons, possums, and foxes. They looked at the little tortoises toddling around in the grass, munching at plates full of salad. Next came the pair of black bears in the largest enclosure, lounging in the sun.
“I saved my favorite for last,” Jamie said, leading them into the shade of an overhang, where they stopped in front of a wall of glass windows. “The reptile house.”
Diego peered into the glass, then back at Jamie, incredulous. “They’re empty.”
“No, look closer.”
She stepped closer and they all crowded around, their eyes roaming the enclosure.
“Oh,” Ben whispered. “I see it.” He pointed at the glass. “Right there, wrapped around that branch.”
“There she is,” Jamie said, smiling at the tan and brown snake as if she were greeting a dear friend. “Good eye.”
Something was fluttering in his stomach. He wrapped an arm around himself, going very still and holding his breath for a moment, listening to the stirrings of the Horror. But They felt calm and docile. Maybe whatever was wrong with him had nothing to do with Them at all. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him before. For so long, he’d been able to blame every little ache or odd feeling on his alien tenant—he had not considered that he might be the cause.
They looked at the rest of the snakes and lizards, before Jamie said, “Come on, I want to show you something.” She led them around to the back of the building, where she opened a door into a narrow room where they could see the hatches on the backs of the cages lining one wall. “Technically, you guys aren’t really supposed to be in here,” she said. “But I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Will you get in trouble if anyone sees us?” Vanya said, glancing anxiously behind them at the shut door, as if it might spring open any moment.
Jamie waved a hand. “Ah, no, my supervisor’s chill. As long as you guys don’t go sticking your hands where they don’t belong and getting bit by something venomous.”
“These snakes are venomous?” Diego said, alarmed.
“Some of them, yeah.”
“And they let you take care of them?”
“No, no, not on my own. My super handles the snakes—she scoops them up with this,” Jamie said, picking up a long pole with a curved loop at the end of it. “And then drops them in there while we clean their enclosures.” She pointed at a covered bin and set the pole back down. “I had to spend a lot of time with the birds before I got to work in here. But this is my favorite place.”
“Why?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know. I just like them, I guess. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like all the animals—even the birds. But these guys are special. They’re also so quiet, and clean, which is a plus. But that isn’t why I like them. I just feel calm in here, being near them, handling them. Here, I’ll show you my babies.”
She kicked a stool over to a wall of cubbies and stepped up, carefully bringing a bin down from one of the shelves and setting it on the table behind them. She slid the lid partially off the bin, so that they could all peer down at the small, mottled brown snakes twisting about and coiling in the pale litter of their bedding, each of them no larger around than a finger.
“These little guys just got here,” she said, smiling down at them. “They’re baby pine snakes. Aren’t they the cutest?”
“I don’t know if cute’s the word for them,” Diego said. “But they sure are small.”
“I didn’t really expect for this to be the case, or for me to be able to tell, but they all have different personalities,” Jamie said.
“Really?” Vanya asked.
Jamie nodded. “At least, they seem to, to me.” Then she reached her hands down into the bin.
“What are you doing?” Diego said, moving as if to stop her.
“It’s okay—these ones aren’t venomous. I do this all the time.”
“They can’t hurt you?”
“No,” she said. “I mean...they can bite. They’ve never bitten me, but I suppose they could. No venom, though. And look how small their mouths are—it wouldn’t be easy for them.”
She cupped her hand and let one of the snakes slither close to her, its tiny thread-like tongue flickering out to taste the air, brushing against her fingertip. Gently, she lifted it from the bin and watched it coil around her fingers, lacing itself through them.
“Would any of you like to hold one?” she asked.
“Not really. Isn’t it slimy?” Diego said.
“No, not at all.” She held her hands out to them. Vanya shook her head. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“Can I?” Ben said, voice low and quiet, as though he were afraid to be caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Of course,” she said. “Just come a little closer and hold your hands over the bin, just in case—perfect.”
She eased the snake from her own hands into his cupped palms. Her fingers brushed his and he tensed, as if the contact might spark some hideous calamity. Nothing happened. The snake slid against his skin and he parted his fingers to allow it to thread itself around them. Its body was cool and dry and smooth. It was not quite like anything he had felt before. His skin tingled where it touched him, the thing that lived inside him curious about this contact but not quite bold or eager enough to go against him and breach the safe seal of his skin, expose itself to this new and strange place, this new and strange creature.
“She likes you,” Jamie said, smiling.
“Really?”
“Oh, I have no idea. But she’s not hissing. She seems relaxed, doesn’t she?”
“I can’t tell. I don’t speak snake.”
Jamie laughed. In his periphery, he caught Diego rolling his eyes. Vanya pointed at something in the bin, her face wrinkled with unease. “What’s that?”
They all looked at the small, pale, gray-pink...thing lying in the bedding in the corner of the bin. At first, Ben thought it was stationary—but then he saw that it was alive, making useless curling motions, slow and faint. His stomach sank at the sight, with pity and dread.
“Oh. That’s breakfast,” said Jamie. “Sometimes they aren’t hungry enough to finish eating.”
“But what is it?”
“A baby mouse.”
“Oh. But...it’s still alive,” Vanya said, staring at the squirming creature with obvious discomfort.
“Yeah... These guys are getting released one day. It’s important for them to have live food. I mean, it’s important for pet snakes, too.”
“What happens to them when they don’t get eaten?”
“Well...they die. They’re newborns, they aren’t really...yeah.”
“Oh. That’s...kind of sad, isn’t it?”
“It is, yeah. I don’t really like to think about them too much, to tell you the truth. But I mean...that doesn’t make me blame the snakes or anything, you know? They need what they need.”
“You don’t think it’s wrong?” Ben said, staring at the pink thing he could scarcely call a mouse, so new and fresh and soft it seemed not yet ready to exist, not fully made up. “That thing is helpless.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t make life the way it is. Things have to eat other things. If I’d made life up, maybe I’d have it differently, but nobody asked me. I don’t know if some things are right or wrong, or if they’re just natural.”
They were all quiet for a moment. Ben lowered his hands into the bin and the snake unwound itself from his fingers and slithered away.
“Sorry,” Jamie said, sliding the lid back in place. “I get defensive about stuff sometimes. I didn’t mean to sound, I don’t know, mad or something.”
“It’s okay, I understand,” said Vanya. “I think you have a point. Still, it’s sad. I wouldn’t want to watch it happen. Them eating.”
“That’s fair,” said Jamie. “To me, that’s one more thing that’s remarkable about them, the way they eat. But of course, that doesn’t mean anyone else has to like it, or watch.”
“But why?” Ben asked.
“Why what?”
“Why do you like these things so much?”
“I don’t know. Why shouldn’t I like them?”
“Is it because most people don’t? Because it makes you different?”
Her eyes widened just slightly. She smiled, gave a quick laugh. “What? No.”
“Then why?”
Her smile faded. He tried to read her expression—that first trace of surprise, that flicker of possible hurt. He wished he could take the words back. No, he didn’t. He only thought he should wish so—what he wanted was her answer.
“I don’t know. Why not?”
“Lots of people don’t.”
“So? Maybe you’re right, maybe that does only make me like them more. Because they’re, I don’t know...because I know they’re amazing but somehow they’re so misunderstood.” She shrugged, looked down. “I guess that sounds pretty dumb.”
“I don’t think so,” Vanya said. “I think it’s...I don’t know. I think it’s nice.”
Jamie picked up the box and turned her back to them, stepping onto the stool and sliding the box back into its cubby in the wall. He could hear the slow hearts of the reptiles beating through the walls of their cages, feel the static prickle of their whispering bodies as the snakes coiled in on themselves.