Fri November 27, 2074 8:02 pm- 88 Wilkins Ave. Camden, PleasantviewThe patio door opened, forming a tear of yellow light against the ashen shingles. Vince hurriedly shoved his broken lighter and unlit cigarette back into his pocket. He fully expected to see stray wisps of wild red hair pass through the door before the feet or even the face but the black sneaker that landed on the deck did not belong to his sister. Vince took the cigarette back out. His visitor was a man who carried his own fire like the churning belly of a volcano.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't realize that anyone was out here." Vince brushed a snowflake from his shoulder, shaking his head at the intrusion. Kvornan could come and go wherever he pleased as far as Vince was concerned. Any quarrels that he might have had with this man were forgotten the instant Ermengarde opened her eyes. "It just seemed to be a good place to hide. Ermengarde is playing her Patty Peppercorn tapes," Kvornan continued dully. Vince nodded his head up towards Kvornan.
"You got a light?" he asked. Kvornan shrugged in response.
"That depends. You got another cigarette?" Vince reached into his sweatshirt and produced the half-empty pack. He pulled one of them free and pointed the filter towards Kvornan, who hesitated before taking it. "Does your sister know you do this?" Kvornan asked.
"Are you kidding? She'd crucify me," Vince said. Kvornan shrugged, seemingly in agreement. Shoving the cigarette into his mouth, Kvornan rolled up his sleeve, baring his pale wrist. He cupped his left hand and a small flame sprang from the center of his palm.
Startled, Vince jumped back, watching the tiny flame dance in the wind, white gold and smokeless. He laughed uneasily. He could remember Kvornan doing things like that to amuse him when he was very little but now it was more frightening than fascinating. The chains on the swing set in the yard rattled, gruffly coerced by the breeze.
"That's pretty cool," Vince said, leaning forward to light his cigarette. He placed the filter to his lips and inhaled.
"If you think that's cool, you should see me grill a burger." Kvornan spoke around the cigarette dangling between his lips. His face reflected the light like lunar dust as the fire leapt from his hand. He opened his mouth to release a gossamer cloud of smoke. "I haven't done this since I was your age," he said, smirking at the cigarette in mild disbelief. Vince blew smoke through his nostrils.
"Why'd you stop?" he asked. Kvornan's gaze darted some place behind Vince's head but did not focus on anything in particular. He flicked his ashes onto the deck.
"Girlfriend got pregnant. Didn't want to smoke around her or the baby," Kvornan said stiffly. A brusque wind crept under Vince's collar, stinging the sensitive skin above his clavicle. He clutched his shoulder near the base of his neck.
"That sucks," Vince commiserated.
"Yeah, I thought so too at first. But then the kid transitioned from womb to room and well..." Kvornan rolled down his sleeve, falling silent. Vince hardly knew anything about this man's past other than what his mother told him before she died- And that was simply not to ask Kvornan about his past.
"Do yourself a favor," Kvornan continued. "If given the choice, don't sit on the shelf beyond your sell-by date." Vince laughed dryly.
"I'm fourteen and I smoke three packs a day. I don't think I'll have to worry about that."
"Likewise, don't let life make you so prematurely jaded. That'll kill you long before these things do."
Vince bit his lower lip and looked away. By this point, he'd been on the receiving end of innumerable lectures from teachers and guidance councillors, neighbors and social workers. An endless parade of grown-ups that had never lost anything of significance in the whole of their lives- Each one of them dead set on telling him how to run his.
He didn't sleep anymore. Ermengarde's condition had seen to that. Instead, he spent his nights pacing the yard, paranoid and jittery. The smoking helped in small measures and only for as long as the cigarettes lasted. But he had long ago passed the point where a nicotine buzz and empty words from barely accountable adults would dig him out of his crumbling reality.
When Vince looked up, he found Kvornan studying him intently. The shiver that ran throughout his extremities had little to do with the cold. Anyone who spent any amount of time before the gate of Kvornan's stare would necessarily see into the abattoir of his misery. It was destabilizing to say the least. Here was a bird who flew on broken wings. 
"So what keeps you going?" Vince asked after a moment of silence.
"Elise." Kvornan invoked her name with the same finality, the same assertion that a person only ordinarily reserved for self-evident truths. Snow is cold. The sky is blue. Elise is my reason to live. "There's nothing in heaven or on earth quite like your sister."
Just then, the door flew violently open. Kvornan spun around and walked backwards for a few paces. Vince froze in mid-action. Elise was charging out onto the deck with the ruinous force of a flash flood. Vince tried to hide his cigarette behind his back several seconds too late.
"What do you think you're doing?" she screeched.
Vince began to stammer out a reply but was cut off when Elise turned to Kvornan and yelled, "I wasn't talking to you!" Deeply confused, Vince looked back and forth between the pair. Kvornan was laughing now, though Elise was still dangerously seething.
"I didn't say a word." Kvornan snickered.
"You're in hot water too, Mister! You're encouraging him!" As she shouted, her ears crimsoned beneath her crow's nest of hair.
Vince sank into the background, nearly forgotten while Kvornan and Elise continued to squabble. His presence was rendered extraneous, even in a conversation that was essentially about him.
Extinguishing the nub of his cigarette on the wooden guide rail behind his back, Vince thought to himself that he was going to quit. And it had nothing to do with his sister's fury. He would not be eaten alive by trials too big for him to overcome. Not anymore. Kvornan was right. Vince didn't have that kind of stamina.
Thurs, November 26, 2074 9:49 pm: 88 Wilkins Ave.- Camden, Pleasantview
She was shaking uncontrollably. At the base of the steps, Ermengarde tried to grab the railing but she kept missing it. Every time her hand went up, it appeared to slice through the bar. Her vision was stretching, stretching. The wooden bannister magnified one thousand fold. She could see each droplet of water, each peeling flake of lacquer expanding in the dark. Her stomach acids fluctuated with the slowly tilting world.
Ermengarde inched her feet forward along the concrete walkway, hoping to come into contact with the bottom step. The hem of her nightgown was clinging to her legs, all soaked with mud. When her feet hit the stairs, she discovered that her body was almost too leaden to lift. She wanted to cry. She wanted to shout for Elise but the sound that issued from her mouth was no louder than the rain that pelted her face.
A flash of lightning bathed the ground in cold, white light. She had to get inside. She had to. Ermengarde furrowed her brow, gritted her chattering teeth and climbed. 
She worked slowly without the aid of the railing and seemingly without the aid of gravity. Her desperation neared the pitch of an animal trying to outrun a brush fire. The wind blew and Ermengarde smelled something that reminded her vaguely of boiled eggs. After a moment and a few arduous steps, she realized that she was the source of the odor. She had been somewhere farther than her front lawn. Somewhere putrid. A cough lodged in her throat and she gagged.
At the top of the steps, she hit the door with her palms until they stung. A new dread was trickling over her. Vince was going to be mad. She was going to be in trouble and she couldn't even speak to defend herself. She didn't know how she had gotten outside. She didn't know where she had been, what happened to her nightgown or why she stank. It wasn't her fault.
She glanced down at her feet and almost lost her balance. Distant things looked near. Near things looked even nearer. The threads in her nightgown were brittle hairs looped over and under into corners of visible negative space. The skin on the back of her hand was cracked like an arid wasteland.
Ermengarde jerked her head suddenly upwards, startled by a far-off industrial clanking. It was steady like a miner's pick hitting the underbelly of a mountain. She throttled the door again with her palms, more rapidly this time. The clanking sound was growing louder. Her head was singing with it.
Ermengarde froze as the door creaked open. Vince's gaze landed well above her height and traveled gradually downwards until their eyes locked. His mouth fell ajar.
"Elise!" He must have shouted but his voice was muffled and distorted like a man submerged in water. There was some shuffling of feet inside the house. And still the clanking persisted.
"Oh my God." Elise shoved Vince out of the way and pulled Ermengarde into the house by her shoulders. When she inhaled, Ermengarde's breath rattled in her lungs. She wanted to cough up the congestion but she couldn't. She could barely even think. "Ermie? Ermie are you ok? Vince, her nose is bleeding."
Elise let go of her shoulders, standing gracefully erect and quivering like a frightened doe. Vince bent down to pat Ermengarde's cheeks.
"What happened? Are you ok? Where have you been? Talk to us, Ermie."
The noise was at the door now. It clamored for entrance. Ermengarde shuddered violently. Her skin prickled as though she were populated by a colony of ants. The sound threatened to punch straight through the wall. Couldn't they hear it? The space between Elise and Vince was artificially widening, pulling taut enough to snap.
"Ermengarde? Ermengarde? Vince, should we call 911?" Ermengarde swallowed hard and then managed to produce a small rasp.
"Shh! Listen. I think she's trying to say something."
Vince bent his head down next to hers. The floor was vibrating now with each successive clank.
"What is it Ermie?" Ermengarde lifted her chin. Her teeth were still chattering from the cold. The whisper that made its way past her lips splintered and broke.
"They are coming," she said.
Tues, November 17, 2074 4:42 pm: Pleasantview General Hospital- Tolsbury, Pleasantview
"I don't want some kid operating on my son." It was the first thing that Troy had said in over forty-five minutes, Siren knew. She had been watching the clock high above the receptionist's head as it turned, an endless carousel of seconds. Siren pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to focus her headache away. She didn't need Troy's pessimism just now.
"Dr. Greene is the best. We couldn't ask for more than that," she said quietly.
Siren turned her head to the side and stared at the short expanse of frosted glass behind her. The ground and sky rippled. It was like viewing the world from underwater. Siren thought with grim satisfaction that this was what waiting to drown must feel like.
Appendicitis. What child gets appendicitis? And Roan, being just as pig-headed as his father, never even mentioned that he was feeling sick. He had been running around for hours with what he later characterized as a "bad tummy ache" before his appendix nearly burst.
"We're taking Roan and Shane out of the Academy," Siren said. "I should have never let you talk me into sending them away." There was a short pause during which Troy fiddled with the crease in his pant leg.
"Whatever you want to do," he said.
"I mean, what would have happened if I hadn't been there? Jenine couldn't have driven him to the hospital herself, not with all those other kids visiting. She's only one woman. And an elderly woman at that. What use could she possibly be in an emergency?" Siren took off her glasses and cleaned them with her skirt while she spoke. She pressed her thumb into the concave groove of the left lens so forcefully that she imagined she could hear it bending.
"Jenine would have called an ambulance just like anyone else would have done," Troy responded flatly. Siren continued as though she hadn't heard him.
"It was an extraordinarily stupid idea for us to send them to the Academy in the first place. Even from an ideological point of view, it's completely against everything that I thought we stood for as parents. Throwing our children into that meat market so they can grow-up to be perfect, cookie cutter people with perfect, cookie cutter lives... It's just plain perverse. And now this has happened. And I assume that the possibility of an emergency must have crossed your mind before you decided to ship the boys off-" Troy turned to face her. His deep azure eyes were silencing.
"I don't think I like what you're implying."
"Oh? And what do you think I'm implying?"
"That I would somehow endanger our children." The words slipped from Troy's mouth syllable by syllable as though he could not believe that he was saying them. They landed on Siren and nested like pebbles falling into the sand. She only snorted in response. Troy didn't argue. He gave her a wide, doe-eyed look, opened his mouth to speak and quickly shut it again.
Siren bit her tongue. She knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that she just wanted someone to take her fear and frustration out on. He was thinking that he would gladly be her punching bag if that was what she needed. Self-righteous prick. If she had listened to her mother, she would have left him years ago. She wouldn't have had to worry about her babies being away from home and whether or not they were eating properly or going to bed on time or making it to the hospital before their little appendixes popped like over-filled balloons.
A door opened around the corner and two nurses emerged. Siren recognized them as the ones that had carted Roan away. She dug her fingernails into the couch, waiting for some telltale sign that never came. Nothing could be gleaned from their body language or their whispered tones. Beyond them, another door opened. A doctor and three kids. Their voices carried over those of Roan's nurses and Siren felt the sudden urge to scream. If the nurses had been barely audible before, now they were completely impossible to hear.
"Can't you do anything?" The eldest boy was almost shouting.
"Not until we know more about her condition. There is nothing physically wrong with your sister. Her brain activity is a little abnormal but-"
"When will she wake up? Will she wake up?"
"I'm sorry. We just don't know." The boy's shoulders slumped. A curly haired girl who Siren supposed was his sister, wrapped her arms around him.
"Come on, Vince. Let's go to the cafeteria and get some dinner," she said soothingly. The boy hung his head and allowed himself to be lead away.
Siren glanced over at her husband who was staring intently at the nurses. He drummed his fingers on his lap then reached for Siren's hand and squeezed. She followed his gaze. The nurse in red was approaching. Siren's stomach twisted into painful knots. Her lungs could expand no further. She was drowning. This was the last inhalation that she would ever draw. Troy pressed his palm against the small of her back, urging her upwards.
"Mr. and Mrs. Caliente? I'm sorry to keep you waiting. But the surgery's all done. Everything went well and your son is going to be just fine."
"Can we see him," Troy asked eagerly.
"'Course you can. He's beginning to come around. He might be a bit groggy and confused at first..."
The nurse's voice gradually faded out behind the heavy drumming of Siren's heart. She stared down at the great, pink stripes in the linoleum tile, imagining that the lines all converged under the bed where Roan was waking. Siren shuddered. The pain from her stomach was rising. The floor was swaying. She was a body adrift at sea. Troy caught her. She hadn't even realized that she was falling.
"Babe," he whispered.
"He could have died!" Troy pulled her in close and she buried her head in his neck.
"Don't say that." Troy kissed her head and stroked her shoulder.
"Is there anything that I can do for you," the nurse asked.
"No, thank you. She's just had a bit of a scare." And suddenly, Siren felt very guilty. Roan was fine. He was probably sitting up in bed, asking a nurse for ice cream at that very moment. And Troy, who had been every bit as shaken as she was, had to worry over her on top of everything. He took off her glasses, folded them neatly and wiped away her tears.
"I'm sorry," Siren choked.
"It's ok." Siren looked up into his eyes. They were as warm and understanding as they had ever been when they looked on her. The only thing worse than losing a child would have been losing a child without those eyes there for her to drown in.
Thurs, November 12, 2074 8:10 am: 88 Wilkins Ave.-- Camden, Pleasantview
"I don't understand it, Elise. I don't. I just can't even begin," Vince sputtered. Elise straightened her back, giving over her full attention. Vince bit his lower lip, utterly bewildered.
"Well are you going to tell me what happened or what," Elise asked after a brief moment of silence.
"Oh, sorry," Vince said, ruffling his wavy black hair. "You know how meticulous I am about the budget, right?" Elise felt a creeping sense of dread. If only she hadn't bought that pair of ballet slippers for Ermengarde the week before! She nodded slowly. "Well a few minutes ago, I opened up my sock draw same as I do every morning and there was six thousand simoleons in cash just- just sitting there! You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?" Vince's words swept by Elise in a fevered rush like the scattering of birds. He punctuated every thought by slapping the back of his right hand into the palm of his left. Six thousand simoleons? Elise didn't even know what that much money looked like. Her mouth went dry.
"If I had that kind of money, don't you think I'd tell you about it instead of just leaving it with your socks?" Vince gripped the back of his neck and looked down wards.
"I can't think of any other way to explain it," he mumbled. Elise stared at the wall behind him. Vince was not the type to misplace large sums of money, particularly not in a place that he regulated as strictly as he did his sock drawer. His obsessive-compulsive organizational habits alone would have prevented anything of this nature from happening.
"So what are we going to do," Elise asked softly. Vince rolled his eyes as though the answer were obvious.
"We're going to pay some bills. That's what we're going to do."
"We can't just spend this money! We don't even know where it came from," Elise protested. Vince's face contorted and for an instant, he looked so sullen that Elise almost reached out to him.
"But we were obviously meant to have it," Vince pouted.
"So let me get this straight," Elise said wearily. "You think that someone, out of the goodness of their heart, climbed through your window last night and stuck a huge wad of cash in your sock drawer?"
"Well no," Vince said, wringing his hands. "I don't know! It sounds stupid when you say it like that but I guess it must have been a person and if it wasn't you... I don't know." His shoulders slumped, defeated. Elise shrugged. She could offer no more answers than he could. Maybe someone had left that money for them. The idea of a mysterious benefactor greatly appealed to Elise's all-but-dead penchant for romance. And suddenly, she began to see the possibilities that six thousand simoleons could bring. Winter coats for the walk to school. A vacuum cleaner. A computer. Driving lessons for Vince. Piano lessons for Ermengarde. A chemistry set for Arnaud...
"You're right," Elise said. "However it got there, it's obviously for you. Spend it." Vince smirked almost imperceptibly.
"I know. I was going to spend it no matter what you said. But do me a favor and don't tell the other two about this. I don't want them getting too excited," Vince insisted. Elise gave her brother a military salute.
"Whatever you say, captain."
"I'm going to the grocery store after school. You want anything?" Elise beamed.
"Yeah, I want a really nice cut of steak. And a wheel of cheese. Good cheese. Oh and some cake for Arnaud and Ermie."
"Will do," Vince said, walking out of the room. "And remember- This conversation never happened." Elise drew an invisible zipper across her lips.
Elise released a sigh as the bedroom door snapped shut behind Vince. She scratched her head, perplexed. If ever she needed evidence that her life was some kind of cosmic farce, then this would be it. Still, at least this marked the end of Fish Stick Fridays in the Mindelsohn household. Elise slid off the edge of the bed, rumpling the sheets and crouched down into a kneeling position on the floor.
Blindly, she reached underneath the bed, excavating notebooks and pens when her hand stopped over something that felt like neither pen nor notebook. It was crisp, thin, cool, veined. A leaf? Elise bent over sideways and peered under the bed. She was met with a pair of roses.
Grabbing the edge of the bed, Elise straightened herself back up with trembling arms. Her heart palpitated hard against her ribcage. Her eyes misted. She felt as though she were having a fit. The real and the impossible were converging. Her mysterious benefactor was unmasked. And it was no dream.
Sat, October 17, 2074 3:52 pm: 23 Woodland Dr.- Middlebourne, Pleasantview
Arnaud surrendered, thrusting his palms into the air. Cathy stopped running. She tried with great difficulty to hide her labored breathing, focusing instead on the rain that collected at the tip of Arnaud's chin.
"I think we had better go in now," he said.
"You wussy, it's just a little rain," Cathy mocked. She shoved him playfully, eliciting a delicate cry of pain. Arnaud clutched his shoulder to prevent further injury.
"I'm not a wussy," he pouted.
"Are too. You're just afraid that I'm going catch you!" Arnaud released his shoulder and smiled. He hesitantly reached forward to brush a lock of hair from Cathy's face. "What are you doing?" He pulled his hand away, blushing deeply.
"Oh... Nothing," he said. Arnaud crossed his arms over his chest, his blunt little teeth chattering. He then teetered strangely from side to side, looking past her. "I think my socks are wet," he said. Cathy rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, fine," she conceded. "Maybe I can get my mum to make us some hot chocolate or something." Cathy grabbed his arm and led him into the house.
In the kitchen, Cathy's mother was seated across from Arnaud's elder brother Vince, deep in conversation.
"But are you certain? You're taking on the sort of responsibility that many adults wouldn't be able to handle." Cathy's mum patted Vince's hand as if to comfort him. "You shouldn't be too proud to accept help when it's being offered to you." Vince looked startled, even a little flustered.
"Well I--" Vince looked away, pausing in search of the right words. "After our father died, our mother was always sick or working. I had to raise the other three on my own and take care of Mom as well. I hate to say it but if anything, this is easier."
There followed a brief silence. Cathy seized it.
"Excuse me. Mum, can we have some hot chocolate?"
Cathy's mother looked down at her blankly. Cathy knew that this meant that her patience was being tried.
"You know better than to interrupt when grown-ups are talking."
"I'm sorry."
"If you and Arnaud would like hot chocolate, you'll just have to wait."
Cathy glanced over at Arnaud who was leaning against the refrigerator. He didn't look as though he had heard what was being said.
"Ok, Mum," Cathy responded quietly. Her mother turned back to Vince.
"Anyway, as I was saying, you're still in the process of growing-up yourself. You'll miss out on all sorts of experiences..." Cathy's mother's voice was lost in the sound of Arnaud compressing air through his teeth to get Cathy's attention.
"Pssst, hey Cathy," he whispered. Cathy turned to him. "Do you wanna to sit on the floor with me?" She shrugged. It was probably a better option than standing.
A roll of thunder shook the windowpanes. Cathy jumped. It was like the restless groaning of a monster. Arnaud gave her a knowing look. Maybe she was the wussy after all. She smiled at him to mask her unease.
Leaning back on her hands she asked, "Ok, now what?"
Arnaud leaned in close.
"Now we talk," he said solemnly. "I think your mother wants us to move in with you."
"You think so, do you?"
"Yeah. And then we could play together all the time."
"I'd like that."
Arnaud turned his gaze to the linoleum-tiled floor. He seemed embarrassed but Cathy couldn't figure out why.
"I'd like it too," he said. "High five?" Their palms struck and Arnaud's fingers clamped down upon hers almost reflexively. She half-heartedly tried to pull away but he did not let go. His fingers were surprisingly strong for a hand that was as soft as a duckling and slippery as an eel. Vince's voice carried over their silence.
"Well, none of the doctors could really tell us what was wrong with her. But it was a brain aneurysm that finally..."
"Are you going to give me my hand back," Cathy whispered.
"Oh, right. Sorry." Arnaud let go, bringing his hand down slowly. His fingers slid across her open palm, forming a gesture that did not make much sense to Cathy. He was staring directly at her but his thoughts were clearly distant. Cathy realized that he must have been listening to her mother and Vince. She frowned. It was difficult for Cathy to imagine losing her own parents but she did have some sense of how inappropriate it was for these things to be discussed in front of Arnaud.
"Even if my brother doesn't let us live together, I want us to always be close by. Ok? Always near each other," Arnaud said. Cathy nodded but wasn't quite listening to what she was agreeing to. Big words that had no meaning for Cathy were volleyed back and forth above her head. Words like custody and parasomnia. Whatever the last one was, apparently both of Arnaud's sisters had it. He smiled gently at her. She thought that he might reach for her hair again.
Cathy stared at Arnaud in momentary wonder. It occurred to her that his was not the look of a recently orphaned eight-year-old boy. He wasn't oblivious to his situation and yet he was perfectly contented in it.
Revulsion began to brew in the pit of her stomach. Though she was ashamed to think so of her friend, Cathy didn't know what sort of boy could manage to smile in his position. And furthermore, she had the terrible sensation that she did not want to find out.
