“You need. To take. A break,” Ryan said as he tried to wrestle the practice folder out of Micah’s hands.

“I need. To know. The square root of six hundred and fifty-one,” Micah insisted.

It was Friday morning, and Micah was studying on his bed in a loose blanket wrap. Or at least, he had been. Until Ryan had climbed up through his window to find him there, studying at seven in the morning already. And by the books laid out on his bed, it looked like he’d been up for a while.

Micah had been doing that for six days now, ever since they handed in their application forms, squeezing in a few questions whenever he found an inch of time and asking Ryan for pointers when he had troubles. Ryan was sort of glad. The entrance exam was only a week away. But still—

“I’ll teach you later,” Ryan promised him with another tug. “You can study more later.”

“Just five more minutes and I’ll be done with the question. Then I can strike it out,” Micah told him.

“It’s the first day of the summer festival, Micah,” Ryan told him. “Do you really want to spend it studying?”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Micah said and he … was spot on. Not that he could have known that. Two years ago, Lang had forced Ryan to go to the festival and stop training. Now, Ryan was doing the same for Micah. Or at least, he was trying.

“Five more minutes!” Micah insisted.

“Argh, fine.”

Ryan let go and Micah fell back. He immediately went back to dividing the number. It seemed like he was half-finished already.

“It’s probably something close to twenty-five anyway,” Ryan mumbled to hurry the process along.

Micah fished out the second numeral and glanced up with a frown. “How did you know that?”

Ryan scowled. “This is what happens when you skip stuff. Didn’t you memorize the first twenty-five numbers squared yet?”

Micah’s eyes went wide. “No? Do I have to know them?” He lunged for his math textbook and leafed through, probably looking for the tables mentioning them.

Ryan muttered “That’s it” under his breath and picked him off the bed while Micah protested. He set him down next to his wardrobe and stood between him and the learning material like a gatekeeper.

“Get dressed. Festival clothes.”

“But—”

“Micah?” a deep voice shouted up the staircase. His dad. Who apparently thought Ryan was a delinquent? He wondered how he had gotten that idea. Micah, for sure, had had something to do with it. “What are you doing up there?”

“Ryan’s here,” Micah called back down.

In his mind, Ryan groaned and thought, Why would you tell him that?

There was a moment of silence before the man shouted, “Tell him to start using the front door!”

Micah turned to Ryan. “I’m supposed to tell you—”

“Get dressed already!”

The summer festival in Hadica was one of the largest of the Five Cities, Ryan knew. It started on Friday—Thursday evening in some circles—and went on until Monday night. Tuesday was dedicated to clean-up … and secondary, smaller celebrations after half the nation leveled up from all the effort.

Sure, there were some cities where the festival went on a few days longer because they started on Monday, but they wouldn’t nearly have the same crowds. The four short but intense days drew everyone out of their houses and made them go all out.

Last year, Micah told Ryan as they walked down the streets, Micah had apparently spent far too much money on sweets, games, street performers, foods, color bags, and other events. Probably even in that order. He hadn’t had any money left for alchemy. This year, he had spent far too much money on alchemy just two weeks before. He still had his untapped funds from Sam’s patterned crystal left, he mentioned—and he looked like he wanted to say something else then, but didn't—but he didn’t want to spend that. Especially not at the festival.

“A coin in change is a coin spent, after all.”

That was … strangely prudent. Ryan smiled. Micah had also finally made a middle-grade healing potion last Friday and they had needed it exactly once since. A Tunnel Spider had got its fangs into Ryan’s arm … and then Micah’s hand when he had stupidly tried to wrench it off.

They hadn’t needed the rest of the potion and it was still good for a few more days, so after the poured out two small doses for themselves, for emergencies, they had it appraised and donated at one of the nearby clinics. Ryan remembered how that had made Micah smile all evening.

Now, Micah went on, he only had two silver coins he was willing to spend. So he was going to skip on sweets, games, and street performers this year and focus on food, color bags, and other events.

That suited Ryan just fine because he loved those three things the most. And most importantly, because there was a Free-for-All at the main Westgate plaza that would start in a few hours, after the district mayor held his yearly speech. A bunch of people would gather to throw colors at each other.

Everyone Ryan knew was going, so he dragged Micah along and they ate some steaming stall foods and met up with everyone else while they waited.

They didn’t even encounter any of those Westgate kids that always gave them trouble, thankfully. Probably off to give someone else trouble, then. That meant Micah wouldn’t have to get into any fights. Not that Ryan was just worried for his safety; he had the sneaking suspicion any fights Micah got in wouldn't end well for anyone involved.

Well. Aside from the color fight a few minutes later. Ryan destroyed Micah in that one. He even forced Micah to team up with Lang to take him on.

They came back to Westhill caked in all colors of the rainbow, to the amusement of everyone who hadn’t been yet. There would be another fight in Westhill soon, and Ryan thought he just might go. But right now, the sun was slowly wearing down on them and the extra coating didn’t help with the heat.

The solution was obvious.

Ryan shouted as he cannonballed into the canal. He hit the surface and felt the freezing water rush past. Sounds muted. His ears filled. He held his breath. Once he slowed, he shook his head through the bubbles to get all the color off and then swam up through the smoke to reach the surface.

The sun blinded him as he took in a deep breath of air.

“Micah!” Finn called. “Get in the water. We’re having a race!”

Micah sat on the stairs leading into the river with his sleeves and pants rolled up, his legs dangling in the river.

The only other person that hadn’t joined them was Sol, Lang’s cousin, who insisted that she looked awesome and wasn’t going to wash the colors off until this evening when she and her friends were going to a bathhouse to relax.

Ryan had to admit, she did look kind of awesome. She had strikes that ran down her ponytail and made her look fierce.

Micah looked awesome, too. But he hadn’t offered any such excuse for not jumping in the river. Even now, he called back, “No, thanks!”

“C’mon Micah,” Finn’s girlfriend called, “Afraid you’re going to lose?”

“No?”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Micah laughed. “I just don’t swim.”

“Don't or can't?” Finn asked. The pair swam closer.

Ryan followed them. If Micah couldn’t swim properly, maybe Ryan could teach him? But—

“I’ve seen you swim,” Lang said.

Exactly.

Micah shrugged. “Race without me. I’ll keep score.”

“There’s no score to be kept,” Finn insisted. “It’s win or lose.”

“Win or lose!” Billy echoed from where he’d climbed up onto the bridge.

“What? Are you afraid to show skin?” Lang challenged him.

Micah smiled with his cheeky grin and got up. In one motion, he took his shirt off and threw it at Lang. He had a rough t-shirt shaped tan-line then, where everything else was covered in colors.

Ryan counted scars.

“That enough skin for you?” Micah asked.

“No way,” Lang chuckled and held the half-soaked shirt up like a trophy. “Now you got to show us more. And I bet Ryan would love it, too.”

“Screw you, Lang,” Ryan said and splashed him. Then he swam over and pushed him underwater by the shoulders.

Micah sat back down.

“Aww, you scared him off, Ryan,” Finn’s girlfriend said. “C’mon Micah, the water is freezing.” She said it like it was a good thing, which it was. Mandy, Ryan reminded himself. She was alright.

“Even if you’re slow, it’ll be fun,” Lang added.

“Oh, I’m great at it,” Micah said. “I just don’t swim.”

The others looked like they wanted to say something, but Ryan interrupted them first, “Let him be. If he doesn’t want to swim, he doesn’t want to swim.”

“You’re no fun, Ryan,” Finn told him.

The others agreed, but Micah gave him a look in thanks, so Ryan didn’t mind at all.

Still, he wondered. He had seen Micah swim around the edges of the baths dozens of times by now. What was so different about a river? Maybe he would be afraid if his feet didn’t touch the ground? Hopefully, he wouldn’t go on any swimming dates with that Anna then.

... Either way, Ryan followed his own words as he let the slow stream carry him downriver.

“So you two are really going through with it, eh?” Finn asked with one arm slung around one of the stone knobs on the bridge. Micah had switched places to play referee after all, because the others got into a fight about who had won—Lang, obviously. Everyone else insisted it was them, except Ryan. He couldn’t have insisted even if he’d wanted to. He’d reached the bridge dead last.

Thankfully, “their” bridge was one of the smaller ones, three roads off from the main one. The main traffic headed through there, too, where the majority of the stalls were. Its clamor and music drifted down the canal, but was muted by their own conversations and the sounds of them in the water.

Micah hadn’t really interacted with Finn much before today, so he had no idea what he was talking about.

“Going through with…?” he tried.

“Becoming climbers,” he said. “You and Ryan.”

“Oh.” Micah tried not to frown. “Who told you?”

“Ryan.” He nudged his head in direction of where Ryan was floating down the stream, hiding in the shadows from the sun. He looked a little lifeless. Hopefully, he wouldn’t fall asleep. Most of his color on him was gone by now, too, though there were still some streaks here and there.

Of course, the water all around him was streaked in colors, too.

“Yeah,” Micah said. “I guess we are.”

Finn didn’t even say anything to that. He just smiled at his … girlfriend? … again, where she sat on one of the walls to the side of the river. He’d seemed really lax about the question, too. Maybe it just wasn’t that big a deal? Hopefully. Micah wondered who else all knew.

Lang noticed them talking, though, and grabbed Ryan under the shoulder, then started dragging him out of the water. Surprisingly, Ryan let him. In a few moments, they were headed for where the two of them sat on the bridge, dripping over the stones and radiating cold for once.

He held out Ryan’s arm to Micah and said in a fake voice, “I release him into your care.”

“Uhm, thank you?”

Micah took the arm, but Ryan yanked it away. “I’m not a dog,” he said. “Or a relic.”

Lang squinted one eye in consideration and pointed out, “But you’re kind of both of those things?”

“How so?” Micah asked with a smile, catching on to an opportunity. Lang always got up to the most fun.

Ryan’s scowl asked the same thing, but in a much different tone.

“I mean, he lives by his nose,” Lang started. “And he’s loyal to a fault.”

“He’s protective, I hear,” Finn offered with a grin.

“He goes into the Tower to bring back treasure!” Billy called from the river below.

“What kind of a dog brings back treasure?” Ryan asked him, but Lang ignored that.

“His hair gets curly when he lets it grow out.”

“Really?” Micah asked.

“Yeah.” He held two fingers close together. “Just a little.”

“...only when I don’t comb it after it gets wet,” Ryan mumbled.

Micah grinned at him. “I want to see that.”

“As soon as it gets a little warm he lies around like he’s dying,” Finn said. “And every few minutes he’ll shake his head like a dog. What’s even up with that?”

“Ah, breeze potion,” Lang explained. “The best invention in the world. By our dear Flowers here.”

Micah bowed his head a little in thanks.

“I gotta try that,” Finn said.

Micah made a mental note to bring him one later … and that would give him an excuse to go into the Wolves’ Den again soon. He thanked Finn in his mind, even if the other guy couldn’t hear it.

“And the moment anyone wants to go anywhere,” Billy picked it back up. “He’ll jump up like he has all the energy in the world.”

“Ah! And he needs to go for a walk twice a day,” Lang threw in.

“A walk?” Micah asked.

“Running.”

“Right.”

“Plus, he drinks like a gallon a day,” Finn said.

“He copies animals,” Lang offered. The other turned on him in confusion, and he nodded sagely. “It’s a Skill of his. So he gets stuff like [Gorilla’s Strength] and [Tiger’s Roar].”

“Really?”

Now they turned on Ryan.

“I do not. Lang’s talking shit.”

They seemed to accept that just as easily as they would have accepted the other option.

“You got all the girls chasing after you,” Billy said. He was swimming right beneath them now.

“Not all the girls!” someone called from one the sidewall. Mandy. Apparently, they had been listening. Finn grinned, so he was definitely happy about the comment. Billy was smiling, too, a little too obviously. That meant he had a crush on someone then ... and was worried they had a crush on Ryan? Poor guy.

“He doesn’t know how to use doors,” Micah joked, thinking of his father this morning. Not that it was a bad thing.

“Hey, my dog knows how to open doors,” Billy protested.

“Maybe you should have Ryan copy it,” Lang joked.

Ryan’s scowl was getting deeper and deeper, but they seemed to be running out of ideas.

“Plus, his hugs are warm!” Sol called over. “So can use him like a pillow, like you can with dogs.”

Micah frowned a little. He wouldn’t know about that. And how did Sol know about that? But he ignored that as he turned to Ryan and happily summarized, “You’re like a Golden Retriever!”

The others cheered.

“I hate you all.”

“That’s how he shows affection,” Lang said. “Because he doesn’t know the real words. Other phrases include—but are not limited to—‘That’s stupid’, ‘You’re stupid’, ‘You’re an idiot’, ‘Don’t do this’, ‘Go do that’, ‘I’ll handle it’, and just generally him being bossy.”

Micah nodded along. Ryan was generally bossy. But in a good way. He bowed a little and said, “I thank you for this wisdom.”

Lang smiled. “Well, I am the wisest guy around.”

Ryan picked him up and threw him in the river.

If Micah wasn’t going to be able to study all day, at the very least he was going to stick to his plan not to spend all his money. It helped ease the itch in the back of his mind that he should be indoors with a book in hand.

Instead, they did other things: They handed out fliers for Neil’s bathhouse and hung out with each other’s families. Prisha and Neil’s extended family even had two stalls in front of the shop where they sold soaps, and sweets and pastries that looked … frighteningly similar to soaps. Micah was surprised no child had gotten them mixed up yet.

They dropped by Lisa’s place twice—since she hadn’t been home the first time around—and found her and Garen attacking each other with … sacks, rather than bags ... of color, even though it was Saturday and most of the color fights were over. As they watched the two go at it in the yard, Micah strained his head around in hopes of spotting Anne somewhere nearby. He would have loved to get into a color fight with her. But she was nowhere to be found.

Sam even showed up with a multi-colored crystal in its mouth that it dropped over Garen’s head from the walkway. The crystal was probably supposed to explode into colors, Micah guessed. It just straight-up exploded. Since it was Garen, he stepped out of the smoke with a few coughs, but otherwise didn’t mind.

A few minutes later, someone dropped by to reprimand them with a fine.

Ryan dragged all three of them to a Tower play in a Nistar marketplace about, of all things, Garen, the Dragonslayer. It was performed with large cardboard cutouts, bright colors, and what Micah assumed were magical effects. Most of the audience was younger than the three of them sitting in the back.

“He’s actually famous,” Micah mumbled then while the fanfare of the prologue began.

How weren’t dozens of people knocking his door every day? He lived only a few streets over from where this crowd was gathered. But every time Micah had stopped by the Chandler residence, the street had been almost empty. Maybe the public didn’t know?

The play started and Ryan looking more excited than any child. Thankfully, Micah thought. He’d seemed somewhat sullen yesterday. And all day up until now, too. But he was smiling now. Micah watched him for a bit before he focussed on the play.

However ... the narrator seemed to get it all wrong.

He said Garen slew the dragon on his own with a bunch of weird Skills and a magic sword he’d inherited from his grandfather, rescued a princess, and forged Tooth of Seven from six burning teeth of the beast’s maw and shards of his own broken blade, not its still-beating heart. He also apparently spent a lot of time killing depraved Beastkin and lying Vats that tried to make him sign a contract for his soul, “with ink as black as their skin was white.”

According to Anne, Garen had Northern friends. Micah doubted he would have killed anyone.

When he pointed out the bit about the sword during their walk home, Ryan insisted that was the right version.

“Why else would it be called Tooth of Seven?!” He got strangely into it when it was about stories. Micah was glad.

Still, he asked, “Oh, and the name of the dragon was ‘Seven’ or what?” His voice dripping with challenging sarcasm.

“No, it didn’t have a name. It gave up its name for power.”

“How can you ‘give up a name for power’?”

Ryan ignored him. “And he forged the blade with seven parts! Were you even listening to the story?”

“That’s just improper grammar!”

They argued along for a bit, Micah insisting his version was right since he’d heard it from Anne Heswaren, and she couldn’t lie, before they turned on Lisa for her opinion. She was the expert, after all. Or the next-best-thing.

She just shrugged and said, “I wasn’t there. Ask Garen.” And then she shoved another vegetable skewer in her mouth.

Yeah, they really shouldn’t have been expecting any help from her.

In the end, Micah gave up. He didn’t want to tarnish Ryan’s perfect image of Garen … any more than the last half hour he’d already attempted to do so. Ryan had even asked Garen for an autograph earlier, and he’d signed in Micah’s journal with his finger dipped in wet throwing paint since they had nothing better on hand.

In the end, they asked Lisa if she wanted to come back to Westhill with them. She looked at them blankly and said, “You want me to meet both your parents, all your friends, and lie to half of them about how you know me, spend some time awkwardly doing nothing while people wonder if Ryan and I are together, then walk half an hour home again?”

Well, when she put it like that …

“Yeah, no,” she said, but then she smiled to bring the mood back up. “I mean, no thanks. I have to feed Sam. Well, I don’t have to, but I want to. So I’ll see you…?”

“Thursday,” they told her. Tuesday was dedicated to clean-up after all and Lisa had said she didn’t have time on Wednesday. And Friday … Friday would be the first entrance exam. They said their goodbyes and wished each other a fun festival. With their discussion over, it was a quiet walk home.

On Sunday, Micah spotted Camille browsing through the stalls in Westhill, with her hair done up in an intricate bun instead of her usual braids and wearing one of those traditional festival dresses. Lots of green and white with flower themes. She looked really pretty. And that meant Ryan would probably also think she looked really pretty. That meant Ryan might tell her she looked pretty if they talked to her.

Micah smiled in anticipation.

Ryan hadn’t even seen her yet, though. And he didn’t look when Micah tapped him with the back of his hand and pointed. Since they had nothing better to do than walk from stall to stall themselves anyway—and Micah was itching to do anything productive—he plastered a wicked grin on his face that he hid a moment later and called over, “Hey, Camille!”

If Ryan wouldn’t look, he’d had just have to bring her to him.

She spotted them with a smile—good start, Micah thought—and started making her way through the crowd.

Micah did, too. He’d meant to bring Ryan along now that they were clearly going to talk, but Ryan didn’t even follow him, so Micah turned around and physically dragged him along instead. This was Ryan’s last chance to talk to her before he went to another school. Now was not the time to be shy.

Ryan gave him a questioning look.

Micah gave him a frustrated scowl that immediately became a smile when the crowd parted and Camille saw him.

“Hey, Micah!” Camille said. “And Ryan. Uhm, where have you been all weekend? I’ve barely seen you around.”

“Oh, we’ve been hanging out in all sorts of other districts,” Micah told her. “Doing all sorts of fun stuff. Right, Ryan?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Go on. Tell her about all the cool stuff we’ve been doing, Ryan.”

“Why?”

Micah felt like he was winding up for a run, to get a conversation going for the two of them, but Ryan tripped him up so he face-planted into the ground. The conversation came to a halt in a similar manner.

Nearby, a crowd was laughing at a street comedian. It felt entirely too apt.

Why? Micah thought. So you can make yourself look good, and interesting, and talk to her!

He tried to salvage it. “Uh, nevermind, then. What have you been up to, Camille?”

“Oh, just hanging out with my classmates and, uh, my family and stuff. I’ve spent some time outside of the city, too. Maybe that’s why we didn’t see each other?”

“Yeah, maybe. So how has the festival been so far?” Micah asked, sweating a little. This was awkward. Ryan wasn’t even standing close or making an effort to talk. He stood a step back and looked like he wanted to leave. But Micah didn’t really have an idea on how he could draw him in. He was trying to be a good wingman here.

“Oh, good, good,” Camille said. “I’ve been sampling all these great foods and, I watched this one guy breathe fire and he did a magic trick for me where he, uh … Nevermind. But … Oh! I tried to win a stuffed animal for myself, you know? At one of the game booths. But it didn’t work.” She blushed a little. “And I considered cheating with magic, but that wouldn’t be right, you know? I guess I just didn’t have good enough aim to hit the targets …” she trailed off, seeming disappointed.

Micah saw a chance and lunged at it. He grabbed Ryan’s arm before he could run off and said, “Ryan can hit the targets for you.”

Camille’s eyebrows shot up and her face froze in the sketch of disbelief … and maybe embarrassment? Why? Had that been too forward? But if they both liked each other …

Micah tried to focus on that, instead of the embarrassment he himself felt.

“Oh, uhm, sure,” Camille said, sounding less enthusiastic than he would like. So Micah tried to make Ryan look good again and grabbed his arm to show it off.

“Look, he’s really strong.” He squeezed down on his upper arm a little. “And he can throw stuff well. Just on Friday, he threw Lang into the river. You should have seen him fly.”

“Oh. Really?” Camille asked. “Yeah, that’s … cool?”

Not a fan of violence, maybe?

Ryan yanked his arm away and started scratching his elbow in embarrassment.

This was not at all going how Micah had hoped. “So, prizes…?” he asked desperately.

“I wouldn’t want to impose on Ryan,” Camille said.

Ryan nodded at her once. In thanks? He was totally betraying Micah here.

“I guess I can just try again later or get one of my brothers to do it for me, but thanks for the offer?”

The chance was gone. Micah’s forced smile fell and he sighed. He wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be doing here.

A moment later, Camille hesitantly asked, “So … did you figure out what mana is yet?”

“Huh?” Micah gave up on his forced enthusiasm. “Oh, uhm, no. I actually bought a book to help me, but it didn’t work out. I don’t know if you know it. First steps on your Path—”

“To Magic: A beginner’s Guide?” Camille picked it up for him.

“Yeah. That one. You know it?”

She nodded once. “Yes. I have it myself. Has it helped you at all? I must have read it about ten times. I don’t think there’s anything in there about what mana is made of, though. I don’t think any of my books talk about what mana is made of, actually. Mana is just mana, you know?”

Micah disagreed, but he didn’t want to say anything impolite. Instead, he focussed on the book. “I’ve read it at least ten times,” he told her honestly. “And I didn’t get the Path or any other good insights. I mean, I learned a lot, but not what I wanted to, you know? I wished I would have come to you right away. It would have saved me the time of reading it.”

“Well, I mean, my offer to teach you magic still stands ...” she mumbled and Micah saw a spark of hope. He just didn’t know whether it was the “crumbling stairs” or the “Ryan standing in the mouth of the cave” kind.

He put a little bit of his fake enthusiasm back in his voice and asked, “Actually, can you show me a spell right now?”

“What? Here?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, not here.” They were standing almost in the middle of the road. “But maybe right now?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she said.

They threaded their way halfway between two stalls, Micah making sure to drag Ryan along, and his heart was thumping, each beat telling him what he was thinking of was a bad idea. Not just a bad idea. The worst. Worse than his first trip into the Tower had been. Micah ignored it. He’d missed so many chances to help Ryan out during the school year because he’d been focussed on himself. He had to help now. Somehow.

“I actually learned a new spell just a few days ago. This one is called [Condense Water],” Camille told him. “It’s a little cheaper than [Summon Water] and the water stays afterward, but the spell draws it from the air, so it makes the air around you really dry. My parents forbade me from using it too much at home.”

Micah knew it already, but he didn’t say. He tried to hide the frog in his throat as he said, “Really? Oh, cool. Show me.”

She started waving her hands around a little in the air in front of her as if they were stirring spoons over a pot of soup, just … much more elegant. Micah could see tiny wisps of water essence trailing after her like a silhouette. They even clung to her dress and swayed with the motion, dancing, as if the essence was alive.

It was actually mesmerizing.

From her motions alone, it looked like she was drawing a spiraling circle in the air, just not one that Micah could see. And slowly, an orb of water began to form at the bottom of that spiral.

Micah did something stupid then. And the moment he did it, he knew he would regret it for the rest of his life. Every time he would look back on this moment, surely he would cringe in embarrassment. But he did it anyway.

He stared. And he stared. And he didn’t stop staring.

Camille finished the spell and explained a little more about how she could make the ball of water hover for a few more seconds if she kept the spell up by changing it a little. She had a smile in her voice and a smile on her face, but Micah just kept on staring at the ball of water.

Ah, yes, he thought sarcastically. Who doesn’t know it? The typical wingman maneuver, the “Act as if you’d figured something out from your Path and stare at nothing for a few minutes, like an idiot, so your best friend and his crush have something to laugh about and start a conversation.”

Micah decided then and there, I am a complete idiot. Then he added, I can still bail out. I can still bail out. I can still bail—

Camille started frowning at him. She tried to warn him, but the ball of water fell and hit his shoes.

Micah didn’t react. And now it was too late to bail out after all.

“Micah?”

He did nothing but felt like his face might go up in flames from embarrassment. He was surely sweating a river, right? Could they see it? Would they point it out? How would he even explain this to them?

… maybe they would joke about it?

“Micah, are you … there?”

“Oh, no,” Ryan whispered behind him.

Camille finally looked up at Ryan though, so Micah felt a pang of happiness. If this worked, it would be worth the embarrassment. Keep it up for Ryan!

“Is he meditating?” Camille asked.

Ryan let out a heavy sigh and said, “... Yes. He refuses to meditate properly and he has two Paths, so he still spaces out from time to time.”

“Two Paths?”

Why are you talking about me? Talk about each other!

“A type of warrior and a type of mage Path, though I guess it’s closer to alchemy than magic.”

“Really?” Camille glanced at him, but thankfully it was only for a moment because Micah’s eyes were starting to dry up and his eyelid was twitching.

He wanted to scream and run away.

“That’s impressive,” she said.

“It is, isn’t it?” Ryan said. “Not that he thinks so.” Then he ruined Micah’s hard-earned plan by asking, “Camille? This, uh, might take a while. Are you sure you want to wait here?”

“Oh. I uhm ... yes?”

“It’s just, Micah might be ... embarrassed when he wakes up?”

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, of course. I’ll just, uh, go then.” She started to walk off and Micah was mentally kicking both himself and Ryan as hard as he could. This was all going wrong.

Camille turned back one last time. “Uhm, in case he gets a Skill from this? Can you, like, tell him to come find me so I can congratulate him? Or something?”

Ryan didn’t say anything, but he must have nodded, because Camille said, “Alright, then. Bye. I guess. Or see you later?”

“Bye,” Ryan told her.

Camille walked away.

Micah decided to wait a few more moments before he started shouting at Ryan for being an idiot—he could still play it off as if he had actually been meditating after all and he was definitely still blushing—but then Ryan pushed him and Micah stumbled forward, further between the two stalls.

With hints of disbelief and anger, but mostly just a sigh in his voice, Ryan asked, “What the hell was that, Micah?”

He’d known. He’d known Micah was pretending. Of course, he had. It was Ryan.

Micah forced his humiliation aside for a moment and replaced it with forced indignation, “I could ask you the same thing! You finally got you a chance to talk with her and you sent her away. What the hell, man?”

Yes, let’s focus on that, Micah thought, please. Please! And not anything else, like how embarrassing that just was. He glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, but the screens of the stalls blocked his vision of the vendors. They were a little bit secluded here. The crowd was just passing by.

Meanwhile, Micah couldn’t even have begun to decipher the myriad of emotions that play out on Ryan’s face—there was a ton of second-hand embarrassment, for sure, and just as much anger, like always, but so much more beneath. But when he spoke, it all shifted to a slight frown and look of honest puzzlement.

He cocked his head a tiny bit. “A chance to talk to her …?”

“Because … you know,” Micah said and nudged him. Ryan looked like he did not know, so Micah glanced around the crowd and whispered, “Because you have a crush on her?”

At Ryan’s shifting expression, Micah quickly added, “But it’s okay! I think she has a crush on you, too.”

Ryan froze whatever he was going to say. His open mouth and wide eyes both twitched, the former into a sliver of a smile, and he breathed in disbelief, then looked up, around, turned, and threw his hands up. He passed a hand over his face and shook it tiredly, going through a whole scene of emotions in a few seconds.

“Ryan?” Micah asked, a little worried he had maybe broken him or something.

“Camille doesn’t have a crush on me,” he said with breathless laughter.

So he didn’t believe Micah then. But even if she didn’t have a crush on him—

“You still have a chance. You’re—”

Then Ryan said, “Camille has a crush on you, you idiot!”

“I— Wait, what?”

Ryan turned to look at him with an unbelieving smile on his face. “You seriously haven’t noticed her looking at you all the time?”

“I, uhm … “ Micah started to say. Now he knew where the misunderstanding came from. He shook his head, the world making sense again. Ryan was mistaken. “No, she’s always staring at you.”

Ryan shook his head and said in absolute confidence, “Nope. Not at all. Trust me. I mean, just—” He took a breath. “Just think about the conversation you had with her for a minute, okay? You tried to offer me chances to talk to her, right? But did she jump on them either?”

Micah thought about it, his heart thumping. But no. She hadn’t.

“... Maybe she’s also shy?” Micah tried. He desperately wanted Ryan to be wrong. There was no way Camille had a crush on him, right?

“Believe me, she was about as interested in talking to me as I was in talking to her,” Ryan told him.

Micah frowned. “But still—”

Ryan shifted the scales by saying, “She went looking for you when you were missing, too.”

Micah froze. “What?”

He nodded. “She searched the fields just outside the Tower with some others the day you got back. Some people say she got her [Mage] Class then. It’s why she wasn’t in the classroom on Friday.”

“How … how do you know that?”

Ryan shrugged a fraction. “I listen.”

Micah needed to think before he asked, “So you think Camille has a crush on me?”

Ryan’s surprise seemed to be wearing off because he sighed and said, “Yes.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“But, uh— I mean— Ha?” Micah asked. He was completely lost. She had never tried to talk to Micah or anything. Sure, she offered to teach him magic, but that was after he had talked to … her ... Because the guy was expected to make the first step. Of course.

He was definitely going to have to approach Anne if he ever wanted to hang out with her, wasn’t he? That was going to be torture. And then he would have to ask her out, too. But … she seemed to like him, right? Like, not like-like him, but find him pleasant? If Camille could like-like him, then maybe Anne could—

Micah was three levels above average. But he was an [Alchemist], not a cool— Wait, no, he was a [Fighter]!

Suddenly, he remembered the conversation he’d just had with Camille, the obvious chance she’d given him to win her a prize that he had jumped on, just not for himself, and how he had stared off in the distance like an idiot for a few minutes on purpose. He felt his whole face started burning up.

Okay, he was a [Fighter]. Just a really, really embarrassing one. And Ryan had known. Ryan would remember ... Would Ryan let him forget? Please? His mind suddenly played the memory over again in his head. Scratch that. He wouldn’t even let himself forget. Argh!

He ruffled his own hair, long-ish again, and groaned in frustration.

“...you okay?” Ryan mumbled.

“She has a crush on me?” Micah demanded and looked up. “How? Why? Why me?”

“What do you mean, ‘why you’?” Now he wore his typical scowl.

“Because, I just mean—”

Micah sputtered and thought of all the interactions he’d had with Camille. The very few ones. And he thought of how he’d basically ignored classroom for two years. Why would she have a crush on him? She didn’t even know him! Ryan had to be wrong. If Micah had been wrong, Ryan could be wrong, too. But even if he wasn’t—

“Just, why me, you know?”

The guy was scowling worse than ever, but that seemed to ease up into a frown when he said that. Micah thought he realized something then and quickly backpedaled, “But I’m not interested in her! I mean, if you have a crush on her. I’m not—”

Ryan shook his head and grumbled, “I don’t have a crush on Camille.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Because, you know, I wouldn’t do that,” Micah said awkwardly. “Not to you … Unless you have a crush on Anne. Do not have a crush on Anne.” He pointed at him.

Ryan actually smiled a little. It looked tired, but Micah acted as if it had been mischievous instead. He needed to distract himself.

“I mean it, Ryan.”

Ryan shook his head and Micah took a deep breath. He tried to calm down a little from the embarrassment.

Eventually, Ryan asked, “So … are you going to go talk to her?”

“Who?”

“Camille.”

Now it was Micah’s turn to scowl at him for once. “No.”

“Why not?” He scratched his elbow again. At least, he was embarrassed that he was asking, so Micah didn’t need to get angry at him.

“Because I don’t have a crush on her,” he just said. Obviously.

“How do you know?”

What kind of question was that? Micah had barely interacted with Camille.

… And sure, he’d barely interacted with Anne, either. Actually, he’d interacted even less with her, but— But he cared about Anne. Even if he hadn’t known her that long. Even if he didn’t really know her at all. She just seemed nice and forthcoming. And … Micah wanted to hang out with her, wanted to know more about her, ask her what she’s thinking about, see her smile.

Plus, she smiled at him.

“I just do,” he told Ryan.

Ryan nodded a little more and actually chuckled. When Micah gave him a questioning look, he said, “That Anna girl is going to fall head over heels for you.”

Anne, Micah corrected him, but it was only a murmur in the back of his mind. Carefully, he asked, “You really think so?”

Ryan smiled. “She better. Now can we get back? There’s a festival going on out there, you know?”

Micah snorted. “Yeah, right. As if you’ve been enjoying it at all. The only thing you liked was the color fight and the play about Garen.”

The other guy looked defensive. “And?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he quickly said. “So … do you know if there are any other Tower plays being performed right now?”

“Why? Do you … want to watch one?”

Micah shrugged. “Sure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Ryan led the way, smiling a little again. A few streets later, Micah remembered something. “Wait, so if you don’t have a crush on Camille, who do you have a crush on?”

Ryan frowned at him. “Nobody.”

“Really? Because you can tell me, you know?”

Ryan didn’t say anything to that and they walked a little bit further in silence until Micah tried, “If this is payback for not telling you about—”

Ryan grumbled, “I don’t have a crush on anyone right now, Micah. Okay?”

“Alright, alright,” Micah said, backing off a little. He didn’t want to ruin Ryan’s good mood. But a few steps further, Micah tried again, “But if you do have a crush on someone at school, you’ll tell me, right?”

And mood ruined, Micah thought. Ryan was scowling. He took that as his answer and shut up, following him silently.

But eventually, Ryan nudged him and Micah looked up again. “After that stunt you just pulled?” he asked with a little mirth. “No. Never. I’ll keep any crushes I have far, far away from you, Micah.”

Micah sighed, dejected, but had to admit, “That’s probably for the best.”

Then he remembered what he’d just did and groaned again. He was never going to be able to forget that. Or even look Camille in the face again. Hopefully, Ryan would let him forget.

On Monday, Micah finally got to study again. One of his aunts had suddenly gotten “sick” after celebrating too much the night before, so Ryan and he had offered to fill in for her at the pastry and soaps stalls.

Micah had grabbed one of his regular textbooks at random when Ryan dragged him out of his room again, this time after he’d knocked on the front door ... and left Micah's door open, and Micah was painfully aware that his father was paying attention. Micah was still a little bit upset about that. Ryan should have just ignored his father and climbed in through the window anyway.

Now, Micah was studying about … trade routes. It wasn’t the most exciting of topics, especially since those led to Trest and Lighthouse, and away from Hadica, not towards it, but it was a topic he hadn’t studied yet, so he did. Plus, he found himself slowly getting more interested as he read. He traced the routes leading North on the map with a finger and wondered where his siblings were.

And when it got boring, at least the customers offered him enough distractions from time to time, because Ryan sitting next to him sure wasn’t. He just looked tired and glum, but put on a fake smile whenever someone so much as looked at one of their stalls.

Of course, there were exceptions.

“That’ll be a copper penny, little miss. Or two iron coins if you will,” Ryan said to a little girl as he handed her bag of sweets. This time with a real smile. He should do that more often. “Twenty pennies will also do.”

She counted the money in the palm of her hand and Ryan patiently explained the math a little. He even offered her different change options, which they weren’t supposed to do. Get rid of the pennies, Neil had told them. Well, Ryan was handling the money anyway so Micah didn’t need to worry about that.

The moment she was gone, Ryan leaned back again with a sigh and Micah frowned. Maybe his smile had been fake after all? Micah didn’t like that he couldn’t tell the difference.

“We’re out of macaroons,” Ryan said, and Micah glanced at the platter of what his sister claimed were macaroons, but were really just two baked half-spheres glued together and stuffed with sweet filling. “Get some more, please?”

At least, they tasted better.

Micah glanced at his map filled with arrows and set the book aside, saying, “On it.”

He grabbed the platter, headed into the bathhouse, and through the side door to the kitchen, which was currently engaged in both baking and cooking warfare as they had to supply the bathhouse and stalls with sustenance.

At least, they’d stocked up on soaps. They’d never run out of soaps.

“More macaroons,” Micah called and three different adults handling dough-rollers, knives, and pans turned to glare at him.

“... please?”

“Here,” Prisha told him and threw a bowl of dough and a metal baking form on a side-table down for him. “Make the next batch yourself.”

“But Ryan—”

“Ryan can handle the stall on his own. Hell, he could handle two more stalls on his own and still be fine.”

Micah glanced at the dough and sighed in agreement. He washed his hands, sat down, and got to fitting half-domes of dough over their metal counterparts. He worked slowly at first, but then more quickly once he realized how long it would take. He would rather be out there hanging out with a glum Ryan than getting an elbow to the face every other minute in here.

But as he worked, he thought about other things. Staring at the half-domes he had a thought. He slowed down a bit as he worked it over. For once in a long while, [Personalized Alchemy] let itself show, giving him pointers when Micah thought about the details. Slowly, the idea came together.

“Hey, sis?” Prisha was too busy to answer, cooking at the stove, so Micah repeated. “Sis? Sister? Prisha? Hey!”

“What?!” She spun on him.

He pointed at the form. “Can you use this to make, sort of, gummy bear spheres, too?”

“What?” She frowned at the form. “Uh, sure. I guess. If you have the right recipe. Why, do you want some?”

An idea shone in Micah’s mind and he jumped up, saying, “I have to go get something real quick.”

“Hey, Micah. No. Get back here!”

“I’ll be right back!” he promised and was already out the door. Outside, he stopped by Ryan’s stall and asked if he could hold down the fort on his own for a little while.

“Sure?”

“Awesome. You’re the best.”

Then Micah ran off. Not home, but in the other direction. To Ryan’s house where he had stored all his stuff.

When he got there, he found Ryan’s parents weren’t home, probably off enjoying the festival together, but this was Westhill, so Micah just climbed in through Ryan's window. Even if the other guy gave up on that tradition, Micah wasn’t going to.

It was weird seeing Ryan’s room without … well, him. But Micah didn’t linger on that and picked some things out of his treasure chests.

“Ryan?” a deep voice suddenly called. David. So he was home after all? "Is that you?"

“It’s just me!” Micah called and quickly headed downstairs. “Ryan isn’t here.”

“How did you get in here?” David asked, frowning a little with his house key in hand. He had his shoes on, too, and looked like he was about to head out. Had he just dropped by to grab something?

Through the open door, Micah glimpsed Noelle waiting in a festival dress, too.

“I climbed in through the window,” Micah confessed. “I had to get some stuff to bake with.”

“Ah.” David nodded. “We should look into getting you a key, or do you like—”

Micah smiled. “Yeah, I like climbing through the window.”

“That’s sort of your guys' thing after all?”

Micah’s smile widened to a grin and he thought, Thank you. At least Ryan’s dad understood. “Exactly,” he told him.

David led the way out of the door and Micah followed. He greeted Noelle, who didn’t seem surprised at all that he was coming out of their house, and asked her a bit about how the festival had been thus far. They had been enjoying themselves, too, it seemed, but they had to work the first two days. The upside was that a bunch of people were bringing horses through the gates for various attractions and the stress of dealing with them got her a new level. David was apparently hoping for the same.

Micah congratulated her.

While he headed away from the locked door, David asked, “So where are you headed now?”

Micah showed him the leftover box of gelatin sheets and other assorted items he’d gathered. He quickly realized he was holding crystals in the open in Westhill and stuffed them in his pockets. There was enough traffic coming through from all over the city, and other citizens of Hadica used crystals in their daily lives, but Micah wanted to play it safe.

“Back to my sister’s,” he said. “I’m supposed to be helping with the stalls, but I had a sudden inspiration for something I can make—something alchemical, I mean—and I wanted to try it out.”

“Ah, right. Ryan told me he was going to help out,” David said and linked arms with his wife. He started leading the way and Micah followed.

“Who knows?” Noelle mused. “Maybe he’ll even get something like the [Salesman] Class and rob people of their money. How about it, Micah? Want to open an alchemy shop with our salesman son?”

Micah thought about how nice Ryan had been to customers all day, despite obviously being in a bad mood, and nodded, saying, “Sure.”

“So what’s this innovation of yours?” David asked him.

“Oh, no innovation. I bet every climber has these. I just want to make ammo for my slingshot,” Micah said.

And as he thought about the idea again, [Personalized Alchemy] gave him more pointers, but Micah thought he could have worked out this idea on his own either way. It wasn’t that hard to make, he bet.

“I can make hard shells like candy,” Micah told them. “And fill them with stuff. Potions and whatnot. Right now, I was thinking of glue.”

“The glue you made last week?” Noelle asked him.

Micah nodded. “Yeah. Then I can shoot it at monsters and like Archerfrogs do and immobilize them.”

Maybe he could even adjust it to work better on Unmade than people? Because if Micah got stuck in his own glue, that wouldn’t be good. But if he somehow made the glue work with essence ...

“That’s actually a great idea,” David told him. “You’d have to make the glue a little thinner than last time, though. So it splashes more?”

Yeah, Micah had thought about that already. Plus, the shells would have to be hard enough so he could transport them, but fragile enough that they would break on impact. It was a tough recipe, but Micah was sure he could figure it out with some good-old-fashioned trial and error.

He found himself looking forward to that.

“I bet you could also fill them with healing potions,” Noelle said.

They both frowned at her.

“Healing potion?” Micah asked.

“Yeah. For when someone is in danger but you’re not close enough to help? I mean, sure, paintballs hurt. But it’s better than the alternative, right? And if you don’t need them, you can just crack the shell and spill the potion on like normal.”

The alternative, Micah thought and remembered a Sewer grate falling on Ryan.

“That’s a great idea,” he told her. “I’ll be sure to make one. I mean, if I even manage to make it work.”

“I’m sure you will,” she told him.

Distracted by the conversation and threading his way through the crowds, Micah hadn’t even been paying attention to where they were headed. But he soon found himself back at the bathhouse with Ryan’s parents in tow.

Ryan immediately sat up behind the stall when he saw them, and Micah said, “Hey, look who I found.”

“Working hard, I see,” his dad greeted him. “Have you been making sales?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan said.

“Wanna take a short nap and see if you get any new Classes?” his mom offered.

Ryan frowned, but she waved him off. She had just been joking.

“There you are!” Prisha suddenly shouted behind him. “Where have you been? You left Ryan all alone.”

Micah spun around and found Prisha holding a platter of pastries. Neil stood behind her, looking amused, and greeted people as they walked past.

Micah held up his gelatin box with both hands and hid behind it a little, saying, “I went to get this.”

“Sheets? We're selling self-made sweets, Micah. We have tons of those. Argh! Forget it. I’ll make you some gummy bear balls if you want. Just get back behind the stall. You know, you could learn something from Ryan here. He’s dependable. Unlike you.”

Micah knew it was just an annoyed jab because his sister was overworked, but it still hurt a little. He shuffled over to sit next to Ryan.

Ryan’s parents seemed happy enough about the exchange and wandered off a bit to look at the soaps.

But Prisha didn’t leave. She seemed to be considering Ryan. “Actually,” she said. “You know, he reminds me a little of Aaron, now that I think about it.”

“Aaron?” Micah asked.

Ryan perked up a bit with a frown. "Your brother?"

“You know. Always getting himself into trouble for others, being polite, putting a lot of effort into his studies. Oh, and I know you’re a [Fighter] Ryan, so don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you couldn’t hurt a fly. Aaron is like that, too. Don’t you think so, too, Micah?”

Huh?

Micah glanced between Prisha and Ryan, but he didn’t really know his elder brother so well. The last time he had seen him was at Prisha’s wedding almost two years ago. And his siblings sent letters so rarely.

But yeah, Aaron was kind and reliable, and always smiled at people. And Prisha always told him he’d had perfect report cards, too. You want to be more like your brother, right? she would tell him when he spent afternoons at her place. Then study. Our parents always made him study for hours every day and he had straight As.

But still …

“Plus, Aaron’s a [Quartermaster], right?” she went on. “And Ryan is always making sure you, uh, have enough supplies when you ‘hang out’?”

“Oh, right!” Micah agreed with that at least. Ryan was there to make sure Micah packed everything they needed.

“Don’t you think so, too, honey?” she turned to her husband, who looked a little startled.

“Who, me?” Neil asked. “Oh, yeah. Totally like Aaron. How didn’t I see it before?” He said it with a wide smile and pleasing tone. Something about that was off, but Micah didn’t know what. “He’s got the smile and the diligence down perfectly.”

Satisfied, Prisha smiled herself and turned around to head back inside. Along the way, she got into a conversation with Ryan’s parents, who were browsing through the soaps, and dragged them into the bathhouse with some excuse Micah couldn’t hear. He felt a little sorry for them.

When she was gone, Ryan nudged him and mumbled, “Am I really like your brother?”

“Huh?” Micah looked over. “Uhm, I’m not sure. I … don’t think so?”

It was hard to overlap the image of Aaron and Ryan. Especially since so much time had passed. Sure, some things might be similar about them, personality-wise. And his big brother had inherited their father’s looks rather than their mother’s, so Ryan probably wouldn't have guessed that he was a foreigner. But—and Micah shook his head—everything else was off.

Plus, the idea of Ryan as his brother was just weird. So he added, “No.”

Neil was shaking his head, too. “You’re nothing like Aaron, Ryan. I mean“—He looked around a little—”Prisha might not know this, but for one thing, Aaron is kind of a scary guy.”

That got Micah’s interest. He looked all the way up at the tall man and said, “No, he isn’t.”

Ryan was staring, too.

Neil looked like he had said too much already. He was behaving like he did around Micah’s father, maybe even a little worse. But at Micah’s protest, he frowned and leaned closer. He whispered to them, “Do not tell Prisha about this, alright?”

They both nodded.

“I mean it. Or even your parents.”

They both nodded some more.

“You know how Aaron came to our wedding, Micah? Well before our ceremony, he took me aside and told me in not-so-uncertain terms that if I broke his little sister’s heart, he would, uh, come find me and do the same to mine. Just, you know, literally.”

Micah blinked.

“He said that?” Ryan asked, looking a little fearful.

“He did not,” Micah insisted.

But Neil was nodding and asked Ryan, “You know how Micah’s parents are both a little terrifying?” Ryan nodded and Micah felt like they were both being ridiculous. “Well, Aaron definitely inherited it from both sides.”

He glanced around and said, “I have to get back inside. Plus, I’m holding up the customers.” Behind him stood an elderly couple that clearly wanted to buy something. Neil told them, “I’m sorry, sir, ma’am. I’ll be right out of your way.”

He headed off and Ryan sold some soaps to the elderly couple while Micah tried to imagine Aaron as anything close to scary, but he couldn’t do it.

As the sky dimmed and it got late, the crowds started thinning out, too. Adults—or rather, people above the drinking age—would be gathering in yards, taverns, and plazas now to sing and drink. Some children would hang out at their favorite spots, but a lot of people would simply go home. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow. The city was a mess and the people cleaning it up were excited about the possibilities of levels or new Classes.

Ryan and Micah saw fewer and fewer customers and eventually relaxed a little on their seats. But then, Ryan’s parents came back out of the bathhouse with Prisha in tow and their arms full of paper bags. Micah didn’t have to guess to know what was in there.

Soaps. They had way too many soaps.

But they also had something else in their hands. David strode over with a broad grin and handed Micah a small, slightly squishy ball. He looked up at the man with a frown and he gladly explained. Apparently, Ryan's parents and Micah's pseudo-parents had got into talking and David had told Prisha about his idea for ammo.

Noelle knew a recipe for a similar game she used to play when she was younger and they tried out a few different mixtures until they got … this.

Noelle walked up and showed him that she had a few more of them stacked inside her bag.

“It’s filled with leftover throwing color,” David told him. “How about it, bud? Wanna duck into an alley to try them out?”

Micah jumped on the idea, but as they headed off, he realized Ryan wasn’t coming along.

“I have to watch the stall,” he told them.

Micah looked around the street. There was barely anyone around.

“Actually,” Prisha asked, “can you help us take one of them down already? Then we won't have to do it later.”

Micah glared at her, but Ryan obliged and David dragged him off. In the same alley Prisha had caught them wanting to head into the Tower back then, they threw balls against the walls and garbage cans as hard they could, giving each other targets to hit.

David’s splattered every time, but Micah had to try his best to get the same results. He guessed it would be a little easier with the slingshot. Or maybe not? The one he had was little better than a child’s version. Maybe he should buy one of those high-quality ones that could really do some damage.

Either way, he wanted to figure out the recipe of the paintballs, as Noelle had called them, for himself. He would only go to her if he got stuck or wanted to compare recipes when he was done.

They quickly ran out of ammo and made some notes on how they could be improved, then headed back. Ryan had almost finished taking down the one stall now and they stacked all their leftover soaps over to the other one, then helped carry the wood into a storage room inside.

As Micah sat back down next to Ryan and watched the guy’s awesome parents leave, he couldn’t help but mumble in admiration, “Your family is perfect.”

Ryan frowned. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yeah, it is,” Micah insisted and waved in the general direction of David and Noelle. “Your parents are both awesome.”

He didn’t say it, but he kind of wished his own parents were more like them. Even now, David had an arm wrapped around his wife as they walked away. They kissed each other all the time, too, even just on the cheek or the forehead. And they were really relaxed and supportive.

Micah’s parents on the other hand …

“My family isn’t perfect,” Ryan insisted and he looked like he really meant it.

Micah curbed his enthusiasm a little bit and asked, “What do you mean?”

Ryan shook his head and mumbled, “Nothing.”

“No,” Micah told him. “Tell me. I want to know.”

Ryan looked at him for a moment before he said, “My mom is thirty-two.” He said it as if it were some kind of revelation. It wasn’t. Not to Micah at least.

He frowned. “And?”

“And I’m fifteen,” Ryan said.

He was clearly insinuating something that was supposed to be obvious, but Micah didn’t see it. What did her young age have to do with how great their family was? If anything, it made her even cooler.

Thirty-two. Fifteen. Micah thought the numbers over and did a simple division, “So she got married when she was seventeen?”

And? Prisha got married when she was barely eighteen, too. In two years, Ryan would be seventeen and could finish school if he wanted to. So if he got married around then, why would that be a bad thing? Micah would love to be at his wedding.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “They got married when she was seventeen.”

Micah still didn’t understand and stared at Ryan with his brows furrowed until Ryan gave in with a reluctant whistle of a bird he didn’t know.

The guy sunk down a little on his chair, crossed his arms, and looked away. But when he spoke, it wasn’t an explanation at all.

“My dad never talks about his side of the family,” he mumbled and shook his head a little. “Never. I’ve never even met any of them. And most of my mom’s side of the family hates my dad. We only ever see them twice a year, for New Year’s and the summer festival, even though they live just North of the Tower. Just a short trip away ...” He trailed off.

They hated his dad? Why? David was great.

“Yeah, but that’s your extended family, right?” Micah asked, trying to cheer him up a little. It seemed to have the opposite effect.

“And?” Ryan snapped at him.

“What do you care about them?” Micah quickly explained. “You have your parents. And you’ll have a little brother or sister soon. Aren’t they enough?”

Ryan stared straight ahead and clenched his jaw, but it looked like he was shaking his head just a tiny bit.

Micah waited.

Eventually, he mumbled, “My mom once told me that it was a hassle to move to their first apartment in Westgate because she was pregnant with me. But my dad once let slip that when they got married, they were already living near Westgate. He was telling me about how he carried her all the way home in his arms …” He trailed off and scowled at what Micah assumed was a memory, then kept on talking with twice the amount of fervor. “And the only reason they even moved to Westhill from there because my dad was looking for a job here, because it’s such a safe place to raise a kid. Because of me. They wouldn’t even be living here if it wasn’t for me. And I’m— I’m just a—” He sighed and broke off, trembling a little. He’d really worked himself up over this.

Micah still didn’t understand, not really, but he wanted to help either way. He tried to find the right words and caught on something Ryan had said.

“But if your parents are living here, together, because of you, that’s a good thing right?” he asked. “Just look at how happy they are.” He gestured in the direction of where they had headed earlier, but of course, they weren’t there anymore. They were long gone and had left Ryan with Micah here.

Ryan didn’t look either way.

A few moments later, Micah tried again with something simpler. “You know your parents love you, right?”

Ryan jerked up all the sudden and looked at him. “Of course,” he said quickly. A little too quickly. “I’m just saying …” He sighed and shook his head. “Perfect doesn’t exist. That heaven some religions talk about? It doesn’t exist.”

“That’s dark, Ry—”

“But,” Ryan interrupted him and glanced back with a rueful smile. “Perfect isn’t perfect either, you know? We just have to make the most of what we have.”

Micah frowned a little. It wasn’t as light as he had hoped for, but he couldn’t help but agree with the notion. Make the most of what he have. He liked that. So he smiled at Ryan in solidarity, hoping it would cheer him up. Micah didn't know if it helped.

Tired, Ryan sighed as he rested against the counter and bowed his head. A few moments later, he shook it a little.

Micah realized what he was doing and chuckled, saying, “Dog.”

Ryan bristled at that, but it was in good fun. “I’m not a dog.”

“Then you’re a relic, old man.”

“If I’m a dog, why haven’t I been able to copy any dogs yet, huh?”

Because if you’re a dog already, you don’t need to copy them. Duh.

Ryan went on, “Or the wolves in the Tower?”

Micah made a face in derision. “Those aren’t wolves.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I know. They aren’t nearly as big and are called Prowlers, but I mean—”

Micah shook his head and said again, “Those aren’t wolves. At all. They’re these red demon worms.” He gestured a little. “You know, like the antlers that stick out of their clones and smile at you with human teeth?”

He shuddered a little at the memory, but Ryan was just frowning at him. Mostly in disbelief. Partially in disgust. But he’d—

Micah frowned as well. “You knew that already ... right?”

Ryan’s expression shifted to puzzlement. “No?”