The Marshalls
by Kit
Chapter 12
Will was tired after a tough day at work when he picked John up at the foster home on the following Friday. Although he wasn't much interested in cooking, he usually liked to provide his brother with simple homemade meals. However, on that night, he suggested that they pick up a pizza to share. He didn't feel too guilty because he knew they'd be getting some great food for Sunday lunch.
With the pizza box on the coffee table, they sat on the sofa, watching TV and generally just enjoying each other's company. When the box was empty, they both leaned back, and the teenager emitted a very loud, prolonged belch.
"John!" Will said in a mock scolding tone, "I hope you don't behave like that in front of Sarah and David."
"Of course not," John replied, grinning cheekily. "You can't produce a proper burp without a fizzy drink, and they hardly ever let us have any."
"I just had a fizzy drink, and I'm not making rude noises."
"But beer's not so fizzy as Sprite."
"Okay, well maybe I'll forgive you just this once."
John leaned against Will and rested his head on his big brother's shoulder. Although they were both looking at the TV, neither of them was paying much attention to what was on. Will was enjoying this opportunity to rest and relax, while his brother was thinking about how best to start a particular conversation.
"Will, did you really love Helen?" he asked eventually, keeping his gaze fixed on the TV.
"Yes, of course I did."
"But isn't true love supposed to last forever? Yours just lasted a couple of years."
"I suppose it depends on how you define true love," Will replied thoughtfully. "People change, and they can grow apart, but it doesn't mean that the love wasn't real while it lasted."
"So you'll fall in love again?"
"Probably. Well, I guess I hope so."
"You really hope so? It's not nice loving someone who doesn't love you back."
"That can be a problem, especially if it's not just a crush," Will replied, beginning to realise that his brother might be speaking about something that was not merely a hypothetical situation.
"If you like them as a person, not just fancy them, it's not just a crush, is it?"
"Liking, loving, and crushing are all simple words for complicated feelings," Will said gently. He sighed and continued, "There are different types of love, and some last forever."
He was about to give an example of parental love, but then he realised that was something that his little brother had never really experienced.
"The love I feel for my little brother will be forever, and it's different from loving a girlfriend. If I have kids, loving them will be forever. Different kinds of love aren't mutually exclusive."
"I'll always love you," John said, hugging Will's arm and snuggling closer, "no matter how many boyfriends I have."
"Are you planning on having lots of boyfriends? Not all at the same time, I hope!" Will said, pretending to be shocked.
"At the moment, I'd settle for just one," the teenager said wistfully.
"Do you have anyone particular in mind?"
When there was no reply to that question, Will's initial feeling was that he should drop the matter. However, as the silence continued, he had second thoughts. Despite being obviously uncomfortable talking about love, his little brother had raised the topic. Will presumed that there was something on John's mind that concerned him enough to overcome his discomfort. Therefore, he decided to give his brother another opening to talk about it.
"Does this other person know how you feel?"
"Sort of," John replied.
"And from what you said, I guess he doesn't feel the same way," Will said sympathetically. "I know how that feels. Trust me, you'll get over it."
"I don't know how he feels, really. He just said I was crazy and shouldn't ever let anyone know. But I think I can trust you to keep it secret."
"Of course you can," Will reassured him. He thought he knew who the other boy might be. "Is it Mike?"
John sat up straight and slightly pulled away from his brother. Although he was no longer looking at the TV, he carefully avoided meeting Will's gaze.
"What makes you say that?" he asked.
"Not one big thing, but just some little clues. When I mentioned that there was a boy at the foster home who was also at your school, you immediately asked if it was Mike. Over the past few weeks, you've been spending more time with him and apparently enjoying it. Since you moved into the foster home, you've never mentioned any other friends by name."
"I don't think it's just a crush," John said defensively.
"I guess it doesn't really matter what it is," Will said after thinking for several seconds. "I think he's right about not letting anyone know. Things would get very complicated with David, Sarah, and Rose if they found out that a foster kid had a crush on another kid in the same home. And it could be even more complicated if both kids felt the same way, especially as you're underage."
"Yeah, that's pretty much what Mike said."
"Anyway, if he doesn't feel the same way, there's nothing for anyone to know, so it's best just to try to get over it."
"What if he does feel the same way? I mean, I know we're not sixteen, but we could be boyfriends without doing any sex stuff, so it's not illegal."
"Even if your foster carers and social services believed that you could avoid, erm, physical intimacy, it wouldn't make much difference. They'd have to take precautions, and things could get very messy."
"Mike said there'd be a shitstorm."
"He knows the system, and he's probably right. Like I said, if he doesn't feel the same way, then you just need to forget it. If he does feel the same way, then you both need to keep it secret, at least until you're both over sixteen," Will said. He smiled wryly and added, "After all, if it's the real thing, the feelings will last for more than just a couple of years."
The next truth game was suggested by Mike and took place in John's bedroom. Although the initial questions were, as usual, relatively mundane, something about the redhead's attitude gave the impression that this was some sort of test. In fact, over the previous few days, John had felt that the other boy was judging him even during their most trivial interactions.
"Even if you've never done sex stuff with anybody," Mike said, signalling the start of more intimate questions, "you must do it with yourself. You know, wanking. How old were you when you started?"
"If you mean proper wanking, I was eleven, but for a long time before that, I liked just playing with my dick. What about you?"
"I was eight, but obviously it was just dry. I was twelve before I had my first wet cum. How many times a day do you do it?"
John was surprised and a little shocked by that answer, but he would have been more shocked if Mike had admitted that he'd been wanked by another boy for more than a year before he'd done it for himself.
"Wow! That's an early start. When I was eight, I thought my dick was just for peeing," John said.
"You didn't answer the question," Mike accused. He didn't say that he'd been made to stay in his room for hours or even days, with no TV, no radio, no books, and often no food. Wanking had been a source of entertainment rather than an expression of sexual desire.
"Depends. Sometimes just once or twice a day, but sometimes three or four. When I was in hospital, I didn't do it for a whole week, but a lot of the time I was zonked out on painkillers. How often do you do it?
"Depends," the redhead said, echoing the other boy's answer. "Sometimes just a couple of times, but usually more. My maximum so far is seven. When was the last time you did it?"
"Seven times in a day. Wasn't your dick sore?"
"You didn't answer my question," Mike scolded. "So I should get an extra. Anyway, sometimes a bit sore is good."
"Okay, sorry. When we got home from school today."
"Where did you do it?"
"In the bathroom. When and where did you last do it?"
"You're cheating with two questions again," Mike observed, though he appeared to be amused rather than annoyed. "Probably about the same time as you, but in my room."
"Sorry, but it's hard to keep track when the questions are so, erm, interesting."
"Maybe something else is hard, too," Mike said suggestively, noticing that the other boy was covering his crotch with his hand. "So what were you thinking about while you were doing it?"
John remained silent for several seconds as he tried to decide if he should respond with a 'pass'. On the one hand, he risked exposing his true desires even more explicitly than before. On the other hand, a truthful answer might help to improve his chances of becoming closer to Mike. Also, if this was part of a test, as John suspected, saying 'pass' might prove to be a 'fail'.
"I was imagining sharing a bed with you. What were you thinking about?"
"Pass," the redhead said, standing up and making no effort to hide the erection tenting his sweatpants. "I need to go to the bathroom."
Mike covered his erection before leaving the room. John was disappointed by the lack of an answer, but he was also relieved that there had been no negative response to his admission. In fact, he had the impression that Mike had been satisfied with the way that the game had progressed.
Mike had been giving a lot of thought to his friendship with Connor. He concluded that the younger boy, now living in a different town and attending a new school, was bound to make new friends. He also wondered if he would soon no longer be Connor's best friend. This saddened the redhead, but he hardened his heart by remembering that this wasn't the first time that kids had gone from a foster home, leaving him behind.
Even Katie had drifted away, though she hadn't totally lost contact. He told himself that if he felt sad, it was his own fault. After all, it was foolish to allow people to get too close, and it was completely stupid to become emotionally attached to anyone. And no normal nice person would want to become attached to him.
Having gone through years of counselling and a series of counsellors, Mike had gained some insights. Ever since he was six years old, when his mother's boyfriend had come to live with them, he had built up layers of defences. More than one counsellor had pointed out that now those defences were often doing him more harm than good. However, even if he accepted that intellectually, it hadn't enabled him to change.
Then he thought of John, who'd said that he liked him and had even appeared to want to be boyfriends. Of course, any sort of romantic entanglement was both impossible and undesirable. There was no doubt that if Mike allowed it, they could become friends, but the redhead considered that anything more than casual friendship would risk more hurt and disappointment in the future.
Still, Mike thought, he and John would be stuck living in close proximity for a while. John was a pleasant person to be with, and it was good to have someone to run with. Maybe they could become friendly companions as long as any emotional attachment didn't become too deep.
One night, shortly before bedtime, Mike came to see John in his room.
"You asked about the colour of my pubes," he said. "If you want to see for yourself, come to my room after David and Sarah go to bed."
He immediately turned away, intending to return to his own room. John was so surprised by the words and especially by the deadpan way they'd been spoken that he was temporarily stunned into silence. The redhead had reached the doorway by the time the older boy could respond.
"But what if they come out and see me?" he asked.
"They have their own bathroom," Mike said, turning to face John. "And there's a connecting door to Susie's room. They won't need to come out of their room unless you make a lot of noise. So you don't need to knock on my door."
John was trying to work out the significance of the invitation, but Mike interpreted John's apparent hesitancy as a sign of reluctance or concerns about being caught breaking any rules.
"Well, it's up to you. I don't care," the redhead said and immediately left the room.
Later, when John was going to brush his teeth, he saw Mike coming out of the bathroom already wearing his sleeping clothes. The redhead gave a nod of acknowledgement but didn't say anything before disappearing into his bedroom. John continued getting ready for bed and then sat in his room with the lights off and the door slightly ajar so that he could hear when David and Sarah came upstairs.
He still hadn't decided definitely what he would do when the hallway lights were dimmed, indicating that the foster carers had retired for the night. Mike was unpredictable, and maybe the invitation had been a trick, or a test, or a twisted practical joke. Even if it had been genuine, maybe the redhead had changed his mind since making the invitation. Despite his concerns, John decided to take the risk and went to Mike's room.
By entering the room without knocking, he already felt that he was breaking a taboo, and his nervousness increased even further. Compared with the dimly lit hallway, the light inside the room was bright enough to make him narrow his eyes. Mike, who'd been sitting at his desk, stood up as John entered. They stood facing each other, about two arms' lengths apart.
"I thought you weren't going to come," he said in a tone that made it seem like a criticism.
"I didn't know if you were serious."
"If you want to see my pubes, you've got to ask," the redhead said.
"You want me to beg?" John asked, suspicious that this might be a trick.
"No. Just ask," Mike replied with a slight smile. When the older boy still seemed uncertain, he added, "Like you'd ask me to pass a plate at teatime."
"Can I see your pubes?" John asked, feeling more than a little foolish.
Mike pushed down the front of his shorts just far enough to reveal his pubic area. The two small tufts of hair were bright red, though a little darker than the hair on his head. John could just see the base of the other boy's penis, and from the growing bulge in Mike's shorts, it was clear that he was getting an erection.
"Now show me yours," Mike demanded.
John pushed down the front of his own shorts, revealing a bush of black hair. He had to push down his penis, which was uncomfortable because by now he was almost fully erect. Mike smiled when he saw that.
"If you want to see my dick, you just have to ask."
"Please, can I see your dick?" John asked, lust overcoming his embarrassment.
The redhead pushed his shorts down almost to his knees, revealing everything.
"Now you," he said.
John copied the redhead's actions, and for almost a minute, they stood in silence, studying and comparing their genitalia. John's penis was thicker and slightly longer, but the most obvious difference was the skin colour. On the older boy, the skin was a little darker than the golden brown of the rest of his body. On the redhead, it was an almost translucent white, which accentuated the faint blue veins.
"Just ask if you want to touch it," Mike said.
Although John was becoming irritated by the 'asking' game, his desire made him go along with it.
"Can I touch it?" he whispered, his voice thickening with lust.
"Yeah," the redhead said, stepping closer.
At first tentatively, and then with more confidence, John touched the other boy's erection. Then he wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed gently. Without thinking, he reached out his other hand to fondle the redhead's scrotum. Mike began to mirror the older boy's actions, and John let out a low moan.
After a couple of squeezes and just a few strokes, John felt his knees begin to buckle, and he had to lean against the desk. His orgasm happened so quickly and unexpectedly that both boys were taken by surprise. However, Mike reacted rapidly when John's penis began to twitch. He grabbed the waistband of the older boy's shorts and quickly pulled it up. Apart from the first spurt onto the redhead's hand, all the ejaculate went into the shorts.
Mike was surprised and amused by what had happened, and he smiled as he pulled a tissue from the box on the desk and wiped his hand. However, John was not at all happy. Surprise had detracted from the intensity of the orgasm, and the physical pleasure had quickly turned into embarrassment and a feeling of self-disgust. He felt humiliated, and there was a growing sense of guilt.
"You should go and clean up," Mike said in a gentle and sympathetic tone that surprised John.
When the older boy had gone to the bathroom, Mike sniffed the air and opened his window a little before spraying a brief puff of deodorant toward the ceiling. He sat on his bed and thought about what had just happened, but it wasn't long before the chill air prompted him to shut the window again.
Despite not having had an orgasm and experiencing only very brief physical pleasure, he felt satisfied. There was an internal warm glow that quickly counteracted the chill of the room. When he'd been planning this, he'd expected that it would last longer and maybe develop further. His presumption that John would be compliant had been borne out, and as anticipated, that had given Mike a feeling of control. However, exerting control over the older boy wasn't as gratifying as he'd thought it would be.
While John was in the bathroom rinsing his shorts, he was trying to sort out his confused feelings. He'd found the experience with Mike to be very exciting, and he was happy that Mike was open to sexual interaction. In some ways, it had been the sort of thing that he'd often fantasised about, but he felt embarrassed and a little humiliated by the fact that his orgasm had been so rapid and uncontrollable. He also had the feeling that he'd been manipulated emotionally as well as physically.
The following day was like any other school day, with Mike behaving just as he usually did, as if the events of the previous night had never happened. John's emotions were still in chaos, and he wanted to talk things out with Mike, but there was no opportunity. In fact, he got the feeling that the redhead was deliberately avoiding any possibility of being alone together.
For a couple of days, their interactions were polite but distant. Then Mike appeared in John's bedroom doorway while he was just finishing off his homework.
"Did you enjoy it?" Mike asked with a little smirk.
"Is this the start of the game?" John replied with more than a hint of sarcasm.
"Do you want it to be?"
"At least it would mean you'd tell the truth."
"So I guess you only trust me when we play the game," the redhead said in a deliberately neutral tone. When John remained silent, he added, "It doesn't have to be so formal."
"What do you mean?"
"Answering and asking in turns was to make sure it was fair, but as long as we both share the truth, it doesn't need to be a strict rule. The only two strict rules are not telling lies and keeping everything secret."
John thought about that for several seconds before he said, "Yes, I enjoyed it. Well, most of it. Did you? I mean, you didn't cum."
Mike looked over his shoulder, though he was already sure that no one was nearby. Then he came into the room and sat on a beanbag chair.
"It was fun," he said, "and I had a good wank after you left."
"But why did you have to make a stupid game of it by making me ask you to do stuff?" John asked, sounding a little petulant.
"It wasn't a game," the redhead stated, and then he sighed. "You'd promised not to tell anyone what we said in the truth game, and I think you can be trusted on that. But you never promised not to tell anyone about doing sex stuff. And even if you did promise, I'm not sure I could trust that."
"Right," John said, feeling hurt. "But what's that got to do with making me ask you to do stuff?"
"You're older than me. You came to my room. You asked me to show you my pubes and then my dick. You asked to touch it. So if you ever tell anyone what we did, you'd get into even more trouble than I would."
"You want to be able to blackmail me?" the older boy asked, feeling shocked, insulted and betrayed.
"No, I wanted insurance. I wanted you to know that if you tell anyone we did sex stuff, there will be consequences. And if they decide that one of us should move, it'll be you because I've been here for years and you've only been here for a few months."
"So it's a threat but not blackmail," John said, trying to suppress his anger. "Even if there's a difference, they're just as bad."
"Like I said, it's insurance. Relying on trust has got me hurt, and I don't want to risk it again."
Seeing that John was in no mood to talk further, Mike stood up.
"If you want to talk some more, you know where to find me," he said. Then he leaned over and whispered in John's ear, "And if you want your dick sucked, you just have to ask."
He studied John's expression of shock, and then, apparently satisfied, he smirked and left the room.
John remained seated at his desk, and as his anger began to fade, he wished that he wasn't so attracted to that annoying boy. He wondered why he could still like someone with such a horrible personality. Then he remembered that Mike had occasionally revealed parts of his personality that were almost loveable. Yet again, he asked himself who the real Mike was.
Before getting ready for bed, he went to Mike's room, where he found the redhead already in his sleeping clothes.
"You'll have to wait until David and Sarah have gone to bed if you want to be sucked," Mike said as John came into the room.
"I just want to talk now."
"You'd better take a pew, then," Mike said, gesturing toward the chair by his desk.
He went to sit on his bed and waited for John to begin. However, the older boy remained silent for so long that Mike's patience began to wear thin.
"You know I like you. I really like you sometimes," John said eventually. "But sometimes you're really annoying. A lot of the time you can be quite cold, and sometimes even nasty. But sometimes you can be kind and considerate."
Now it was John's turn to be patient while he waited for the other boy to respond.
"With some people, I want to be nice, but sometimes I can't manage it."
"Why not?"
"Habit, I suppose. At least, that's what one of my counsellors said when she was trying to get me to try to make friends. She said I'd got so used to keeping people away that it was just reflex."
"You can break habits. I used to chew my nails. You just need to be determined and concentrate, and maybe get a little help. Will helped me."
Mike didn't bother telling John that his own habits were protective barriers. With his current counsellor's encouragement, he'd tried to remove at least some of those barriers with certain people. However, they'd often reflexively snap back up, often at the worst possible times. That just made him feel bad, as if he were some sort of Jekyll and Hyde character, and he suspected that would be how others saw him.
"I wish I could help you. So just ask if you can think of anything I can do," John said, breaking into Mike's train of thought. Then, as if he'd read the redhead's mind, he continued, "I just wish I knew what the real Mike was like."
The redhead gave a humourless laugh that sounded almost like a dog's bark.
"I wish that, too," he said. "Maybe there is no real Mike."
He'd often wondered what, if anything, lay below the collection of defensive reflexes. Even if he could dig through the barriers, what if the real Mike was the scared, cold, hungry, hurting little boy who'd put up those defences? What if it were the little boy who could never forgive the mother who betrayed him by allowing her boyfriend to abuse him so badly? Exposing that little boy would be yet another betrayal. Mike didn't want to take that risk.
"I'm sure there is a real Mike," John said. "And I'm sure that it's the cute kid who can be so kind and considerate. I'd be happy to help you find him."
Mike couldn't admit, even to himself, that he was touched by John's concern and obviously genuine desire to help. Reflexively, he felt that such admission would be a sign of weakness, and that triggered an automatic defence mechanism.
He made a gagging sound and said, "I think I'm going to throw up." Then he left the room and locked himself in the bathroom.
John was confused and hurt by Mike's reaction. He might have expected the redhead's rejection of the offer of help, but pretending that it made him sick was insulting. He returned to his own room and started getting ready for bed.
After Connor and Oliver did their homework together, Paul usually gave his brother's friend a ride home. Liam almost always went along, and all three boys would sit together in the back seat. One evening, on the way home after dropping Oliver off, Connor brought up the subject of their upcoming Christmas vacation in Barbados.
"Will I be able to phone Mike and Oliver while we're there?"
"I'm not sure about that. I never tried because the only people I might want to call were already there with me," Paul replied. After a little thought, he added, "Technically, I'm pretty sure that we could, but it would be complicated because of the time difference."
"Complicated? How?"
"When you're finishing breakfast, they'll be having lunch. We've already booked some trips, and we'll probably be busy most days. By the time we get back to the villa, Mike will be in bed."
"Oh," Connor said, disappointed.
"So we can't send them pictures?" Liam asked, clearly disappointed.
"I'll be taking my laptop, and there's a good internet connection in the villa. So you can send emails with photos. And maybe they'll want to see a slide show after we get back. That will give you time to organise the photos first."
"We're coming back on the twenty-eighth, aren't we?" Connor asked. "That's Oliver's birthday, and I wanted to phone him then."
"We leave the villa after lunch on the twenty-eighth and get on the plane that evening, but with the time difference, we won't land until early the next morning," Paul said. Then he had an idea. "You can send a birthday email before you go to bed on the twenty-seventh. That will be after midnight in England. So for Oliver, it will have been sent on his birthday."
"I wouldn't like it if my birthday was so close to Christmas," Liam commented. "I feel sorry for Oliver."
"Yeah, Oliver doesn't like it, either," Connor said. "His parents are the only ones who give him separate presents and cards. Everyone else just gives him one card and a present at Christmas and says it's a big present because it's for his birthday as well. Oliver says he'd prefer two smaller presents."
"Do his parents have a party and cake for his birthday?" Paul asked.
"I don't know."
"Well, maybe you can give him two presents before he goes to spend the holidays with his parents," Paul suggested. "But make sure he only opens them on the proper day."
There was a brief silence while Connor considered that, then he brought up another topic related to their Christmas vacation.
"I suppose we can only ask for small presents this year."
"Why do you say that?" Paul asked, puzzled.
"They'll need to fit in our bags so we can open them while we're away."
"We won't be taking the actual presents. Apart from having to carry them, we'd have to get them through customs there and again when we arrived back here."
"But you said it'd be like Christmas here, with food and presents," Connor protested.
"Yeah," Liam confirmed, sounding a little upset.
"I'm sorry," Paul said. "I should have explained. When we went before, we took envelopes with a little card saying what the present is, and sometimes there was a photo of it. Then the envelopes were opened on Christmas morning, so we knew what we'd got. We unwrapped the actual presents as soon as we got home."
"But that's not the same. You broke Rule Two," Connor accused.
"No, I didn't. I said you'd get presents, and the presents will be legally yours when you open the envelope. They just won't be physically with you. It's like if your present was a new bike, but you had to go to the bike shed to get it. Or if it was a book token and you had to wait to actually physically get the book you want."
"Mmm, I don't know," Connor said, his voice showing doubt and suspicion.
Paul tried to think of a better analogy, then continued, "Suppose the gift was a club membership or a holiday that you couldn't take until later. It would be yours immediately, even if you had to wait to use it."
There was a long silence until they were about to turn into their driveway, and Paul felt that Connor still wasn't convinced.
"I'm sorry if you think I deceived you, but it was just a misunderstanding. I should have explained the details, but it was how we always did things when we were away for holidays and birthdays. It didn't occur to me that you would think we'd take physical presents to another country."
"Yeah, you'd not really tell us lies," Liam said. "You just made a mistake."
"Okay," Connor said. "I forgive you."
Later, when they were alone in the kitchen, Paul asked Connor a question.
"So," he began tentatively. "Is Oliver your new best friend now that you don't see Mike as much anymore?"
"Mike's still my friend," the boy replied a little defensively. "I like them both, but it's different with Oliver."
"How do you mean?"
"Erm, well…" Connor began. Then he paused to think for a few seconds before continuing, "They're both fun to be with, but with Mike, it's like being on a roller-coaster. With Oliver, it's not so exciting, but it's more comfortable, like riding in your car."
A couple of days later, while Connor was helping Paul to finish preparing their evening meal and Stephane was putting cutlery on the table, Liam came into the kitchen.
"Will you want to come to our carol concert?" he asked. "I'm doing two solos."
"Of course we'll be going," Paul replied. "I'm sure Aunt Anne would like to be there, too. When is it?"
"The day before we break up for Christmas. It's Thursday. It starts at half past four. But, erm, we can only get two tickets each," Liam said. Casting an apologetic look at Stephane, he added, "And I'd really like it if both my brothers would be there."
"That's okay. I understand," Stephane said.
Liam nodded, relieved, and after pausing for thought, he said, "We usually go to Mum's Garden at Christmas, but we won't be here this year."
As this was only their second Christmas together, Paul was struck by the fact that his brother had used the word 'usually'. He wondered if the boy felt that it had already been established as a family tradition.
"We can go as close to Christmas as possible," he replied, "either before or after, whichever you prefer."
"How about after we decorate the tree?" Liam suggested. "Then I can tell her all about it."
"We'll be away from home for Christmas, and there will be a tree and Christmas light decorations at the villa. So I wasn't going to have a tree or decorations this year."
"But I thought you said that when you went before, it was a small plastic tree at the villa."
Liam was sad and disappointed, and Connor looked accusingly at his big brother. Paul remembered how much Liam had enjoyed decorating the tree the previous year and suggested a compromise.
"We could just have the tree and not bother with other decorations," he said. "After all, the tree's always what people really notice."
The little boy's face lit up in delight, and he nodded his head vigorously.
The following evening, as soon as they sat down to eat dinner, Liam made an announcement. He was clearly very pleased with himself.
"Lydia says her dad can't go to the carol concert, and I can have one of her tickets." With a mischievous grin, he added, "Stephane and Aunt Anne can decide who gets it."
"I doubt I could get there before five," Stephane said. "Anyway, if I had to fight Aunt Anne for it, I'd definitely lose."
"Who's Lydia?" Connor asked.
"She's one of my friends in the choir, and she's doing a solo, too."
"Is she your girlfriend?" Connor teased.
"No. Don't be silly," Liam replied, sounding a little exasperated. "She's too old."
"Too old?" Paul echoed, his eyebrows raised. "How old is that?"
"She'll be eleven in January."
"Oh, my," Stephane said, trying to suppress a grin. "That's really, really old."
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