Something of a Kind - By Miranda Wheeler Page 0,20
of hazelnut. It was too strong, too hot, and too many grounds had passed through the filter. It burned his tongue. He didn’t care.
“You mean for this week? For this summer?” Aly asked, her curiosity compelling her to speak up. Her volume increased to almost normal as she spoke.
“I don’t know. For life, I guess,” he shrugged. “You’re a junior, right?”
“I will be. You?”
“Senior. Where are you going to school next year?”
“That all depends,” she answered slowly, leaning back as though the question exhausted her.
He raised an eyebrow.
She glanced at him, realizing he expected more. “It depends on whether or not I’m strong enough for Ashland. If I can handle my father for the summer, then I’ll probably enroll at the local high school. If I break, I run home, beg my aunt for help and the court for mercy.”
He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
She’s forced to be here? What can I say to that?
“The court’s making you stay in town?”
“Yeah, Greg’s definitely not my first choice,” she sighed. “It’s not that my dad and I fight a lot, but it’s like living with a stranger. I keep thinking maybe he’s a changeling or a wizard or something. I’m literally expecting an owl to crash through my bedroom window with an apology letter, explaining he’s really been with Albus Dumbledore the whole time.”
“No way,” Noah smirked, nudging her elbow. “Your dad’s definitely a closet death eater.”
She laughed, sounding uncertain whether it was hilarious or ironic or both. “Of course! That explains everything. He’s awful because he’s secretly working for Voldemort.”
“You -KnowWho,” Noah teased, thankful Harry Potter was one of the few pieces of childhood that hadn’t been distorted by his parents’ troubles. Sobering at the thought of her leaving, Noah continued, “So, where would you go if you went back to New York?”
“I don’t really know. I mean, I’ve been staying with my aunt and uncle, sharing a room with my cousin. They’re family, and I love them, but it’s not like I can stay. Not when I have another legal guardian. I always felt like I was intruding in their home. Or at least making it hard for them to move on. I thought it would be better with Greg, but with him, I’m not just intruding. I’m an entire invasion. We’re each an outsider in each other’s world. He prefers his isolation.”
“Part of you wanted to come to Ashland, though.” He noted, with one finger pulling away from the cup to point at nothing. “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. The researchers all hole up in their satellite office unless they’re out on their expeditions, sectioning off half the trails and stuff. I can’t imagine they’re home all that often.”
“He’s not,” Aly agreed. “Why do you guys keep calling him that? It makes sense, since he’s a biologist that he would be. It just strikes me as bizarre.”
“That’s what the townies call t he group of scientists he works with. They call themselves all sorts of things. I guess they work with a B.F.R.O. type deal, but they claim they’re not an actual part of them. I guess it’s a private industry thing. They don’t stick around much, so I’m not sure how much of it is true.”
“The B.F.R.O.” She spoke as if repeating it would bring recognition, but he didn’t see it clear in her confused expression.
“The Big Foot Research Organizationor something like that.” Chuckling, he added, “Some of them call themselves ‘Squatchers’. It’s kind of funny. They’re pretty serious.”
She gave him a funny look, like he was revealing a third arm or claiming he actually saw the things. “I think you’ve got my father confused with someone else.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I don’t. You said he’s a field biologist. What do you think he studies up here in the middle of nowhere?”
She paused, her eyebrows knitted together in thought. “You know, I honestly have no idea. I really don’t think my dad has anything to do with it.”
He shrugged, a palm raised in surrender. “Maybe not. It’s just what I heard.”
Aly nodded, approving his explanation. As she gave it more thought, she relaxed, her brow smoothing. “Today was fun.”
“It was,” he concurred.
Smiling at his smile, she met his eyes.
Aly was simple and somehow complicated. He couldn’t name her favorite color or her favorite band, but he knew her cousins and her doubts and that she loved her mother and she didn’t know the man her father was any more than he