First & Then

“No problem. Uh, Lindsay’s not here yet.”


“That’s cool.” Cas’s voice was strange. Like too cheerful, and he was still touching my waist. “I wanted to see you anyway. Can I help you carry something?”

“I got it.” Ezra took the drinks from my hands and there was another moment of silence. I would almost swear that both of them were trying to look taller.

“See you,” Ezra said after a pause, and then left the room.

Cas rolled his eyes and dropped his hand from my waist. “You’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“Saving you from Ezra. Guess I got your radar, too, huh?”

I pulled some ice out of the freezer. “I was fine. We were just talking.”

“Ezra doesn’t talk, he just scowls and gestures indeterminately. It’s how his creators programmed him. There’s not enough room on the Football Robot hard drive for advanced communication skills.”

I didn’t speak.

“Oh come on. That’s funny, right?” When I glanced at Cas, he was looking at me strange. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“No,” I said. “Of course not. I just … I don’t need you to save me.”

“Okay.” Another awkward pause. “All right. So … Jordan said they’re going to play Rock Band soon.”

“I heard.”

“You coming in?”

“Yeah. In a minute.”

Cas drummed his fingers on the counter for a moment and then left the kitchen.

I patrolled the first floor for a little while after that, picking up empty soda cans and paper plates. When I made it into the living room, the video game competition was in full swing. Jordan was strumming the plastic guitar alongside Gracie Holtzer, who missed every other note because she was too busy ogling him. Needless to say, he crushed her.

“Champ!” Jordan exclaimed when their song was over. “You next?”

I was happy to remain a spectator. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Where’s your cousin at then? I want to take him down.”

Foster was nowhere to be seen, and Marabelle was conspicuously absent, too. “I’ll look for him.”

The din from downstairs was somewhat dampened in the upstairs hallway. The door to my parents’ bedroom was shut at the end of the hall, as was mine. But Foster’s door was slightly ajar, and I could hear voices.

I couldn’t resist. I moved closer.

Marabelle stood in the center of the room, surveying the posters and the football gear and the bedspread.

“I like your room,” she said.

“Aunt Kathy picked out most of the stuff.”

“Like this shirt?” Marabelle flicked Foster’s collar.

“Mine are falling apart. They’re all from, like, the sixth grade.”

Marabelle moved toward the desk, picked up a book, and looked at the cover.

“How come you live with your aunt and your uncle?” she asked as she thumbed through the pages.

“How come you’re pregnant?” Foster countered.

“Because I had sex. Answer my question.”

“Because they’re my godparents. Why did you have sex?”

“I thought it’d be fun.”

“Was it?”

She shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed. After a moment Foster—having clearly appraised the situation—sat down next to her. Close, but not too close. Mentally, I applauded him.

“What happened to your parents?” Marabelle asked.

“They got sick,” he said after a moment.

“Both of them?”

Foster nodded. “In different ways.”

“Did they die?”

“My dad did.”

“And your mom?”

“She’s still sick.”

“Can they fix it?”

“She could fix it,” Foster said. “If she wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he reached over and put his hand on Marabelle’s stomach. A smile spread across his face. “Creepy. It’s sloshing around in there.”

“It’s not creepy,” Marabelle said, clearly affronted. “It’s beautiful!”

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