        Samuel jerked awake as he heard the front door open. His heart sank. Dad was home. No, not Dad. Peter. He had to stop thinking of that man as Dad. His side still stung from the last time he’d let the word slip. Samuel curled up deeper into the pile of old towels that made up his bed. He clutched his eyes closed and tried to slow his breathing. Maybe Peter would think he was asleep. Maybe Peter didn’t have to pee. Maybe he’d be left alone for just one night. He could hear the man he tried not to think of as his father staggering through their tiny apartment. It wasn’t hard. The man was falling down drunk, and he fell down often, swearing loudly when he did, blaming the offending piece of furniture or the floor itself.
        Peter, of course, would’ve attributed Samuel’s keen hearing to the fact that he was a ‘Damn Cat’ without an ounce of mouse in him. Samuel didn’t think his hearing was better than anyone else’s, cat, mouse, or otherwise. But no matter what was wrong or right with Samuel, it was always his fault for being a cat.
        The bathroom door thumped open, smacking Samuel’s hip hard. He didn’t react, didn’t move, just kept breathing slow and deep. That part of his hip rarely hurt anymore. It had stopped hurting that day he had fallen down the stairs. His father had laughed. No. Peter. Peter had laughed, and asked him why his cat reflexes hadn’t kicked in. Ever since then, Samuel had been careful to turn that side of his hip to the door, so that he wouldn’t yelp when it struck him. Nothing made Peter angrier than a loud cat.
        “Useless little. . .” Peter muttered over him. Samuel heard the sound of the man unzipping his pants. Moments later the stream of piss hit the already filthy toilet seat, and the toilet tank, and the side of the shower. Samuel was splattered with the hot stream, but still didn’t move. He was only safe if he was asleep or unconscious, and sometimes not even then. So he pretended to be the former, desperately hoping something about him wouldn’t rouse Peter’s anger to more direct levels.
        Peter cursed his sloppiness, blaming the toilet for moving and Samuel for throwing off his aim. The last few drops of his urine trickled to the floor. He didn’t bother to zip his pants back up. There was a pause. Samuel tried hard not to stiffen with fear. He knew Peter was standing over him, looking for something he’d done wrong, looking for some reason to be furious at him, some excuse to beat him. 
        “Fucking useless feline,” Peter snarled. Samuel heard a breath of air and couldn’t help himself. He stiffened, anticipating the blow that was coming. Luckily, the toe of Peter’s shoe struck him in the hip, in the same spot the door hit him several times a day. Samuel thought he felt something crack, but couldn’t be sure. It might have been his imagination, but it might have been his skin breaking open, or worse, something inside him. “Sleeping all the goddamn time. . .”
        Peter stalked out of the bathroom that doubled as Samuel’s bedroom. Samuel didn’t let out his breath until he heard Peter falling drunkenly onto the small bed in the apartment’s single bedroom. He didn’t move until he heard the man begin to snore.
        Gingerly, he sat up. Peter had turned the light out when he’d left the bathroom. He didn’t dare get up and turn it on, so he just leaned on one arm and checked his hip with the other. The skin wasn’t broken, but with the numbness, he couldn’t tell if anything was wrong under the skin. He carefully tore a scrap of toilet paper from beside the toilet and used it to pat down his fur where he’d been peed on. He hoped the janitor had forgotten to lock the side door to the school again tonight. Peter would be furious if he wasted water on a second shower this week, but he might be able to sneak one from the locker room if the door had been left unlocked and he got to school early enough.
        For a while, he considered not going to sleep at all, but he soon dismissed the idea. He didn’t dare leave his room. Peter always seemed to know, somehow. Plus, too afraid turn on the television, he wasn’t sure what he would to do to stay awake. He’d end up falling asleep too late and being late to school instead of early.
        Samuel gently poked at his hip again, wiggling his finger against the flesh to try and decide if anything moved. He remembered the way his toe had moved that one time he’d gone to the doctor, back when he’d lived with his mom and Gary. Was anything moving that way now? He couldn’t decide. His butt bone was a lot different from a toe. He left it alone and curled up tightly on his towel again. Already, the smell of hot, drunk piss was fading into the stagnant, stale smell he was accustomed to. He told himself he could barely smell it at all and rested his head on his arm.
        He hoped sleep would come soon. Sleep brought dreams, and dreams brought his mother back from the dead. Dreams meant he’d never been sent to live with Peter, who insisted Samuel was in no way related to him just as sternly as the judge and the birth certificate insisted otherwise. He dreamt of Gary, who had always called him ‘Little Tiger’ and maybe it wasn’t just because he didn’t care enough to remember his real name. In his dreams, Gary was just as nice as his mom, and they both had jobs and fixed him sandwiches cut into four little triangles to take to school for his lunch. It was a nice fantasy. He liked to remember Mom and Gary that way, even if it wasn’t true. It was his dream. Mom was dead and Gary was gone and so who was left to tell him it had never really been that way. No one, that’s who. He closed his eyes and slept.

        ***

        Samuel stared at the bus that would take him back to Peter’s apartment. He didn’t think of that place at home. It was where he slept, but it was certainly not home. He cocked his head, thinking back to living with mom, and wondered if he’d ever had a home. It didn’t seem like it.
        The bus closed its door. Samuel watched it drive away, turning his head to stare after it until it disappeared around the far side of the school.
        Why hadn’t he got on? It was because his leg hurt, he told himself. He’d been limping all day. He couldn’t feel anything in his hip, but when he walked, pain shot down his thigh. No, that was a stupid reason. Walking to the bus was a lot quicker than walking all the way home. How stupid was he? Stupid cat. He cringed, expecting a blow, except Peter wasn’t there. It was just in his head. He was going to get beat fiercely when he got back, though. If he got back. Peter didn’t like being responsible for a bastard cat out moonlighting through the city, making more bastard cats to stink up the place. Samuel wasn’t sure what that meant. How exactly did Peter expect him to make more cats? But he said that every time Samuel came home late, and sometimes when he came home on time. It was always followed by being spit on, and usually a blow to his back or his thighs. Peter almost never hit him in the face.
        Samuel sighed. He’d better start on his way back. No, that was stupid, too. That was twice he’d been stupid. He cringed again, but again, Peter did not materialize to hit him. He was already out. He was already late. Normally, he could catch the next public bus and be at the apartment within an hour. It would take him much longer, limping. He didn’t know if Randy would still be the one driving by the time he made it to the stop. Another driver probably wouldn’t let him ride for free. It would be hours before he got back to Peter’s apartment.
        So he didn’t head to the bus stop. What difference would another hour make? Another two? None, that’s what. Peter could only beat him so hard. It was just pain. He was in for bruises anyway. Maybe even a busted lip. He was at least going to do something to deserve it.
        He wasn’t sure how long it took him to get to the greenspace. It was a lot farther than the public bus. It had seemed to take forever. He was good with a clock, but he had no idea how some adults could peer at the sun and divine a number. It was still light out, though. And after walking for so long, he’d finally found a particular kind of limp that didn’t hurt his leg as much, so that was something, too. Like all the greenspaces in the city, this one had its own bus stop. He decided he’d play until it got dark, then get on the bus and tell the bus driver which stop he needed to go to. He didn’t know if this stop was on the same line, but the bus driver would know. And if he wouldn’t let Samuel ride for free, Samuel would have him take him anyway and promise that Peter would pay. 
        That would hurt. He’d probably miss school. But a mean part of him wanted it to happen. Peter would yell at the bus driver, and not everyone just stood there and let Peter yell at them. Some people got mad. Samuel had seen Peter picked up and thrown before. And hit once. Maybe this bus driver in this scenario in his head was the hitting kind.
        Samuel realized he’d been standing at the entrance to the greenspace, caught up in his head. A couple walking hand in hand approached him, looking at him with concern. No, not concern. No one’s concerned about a stupid cat. You’re in their way, stupid cat, stop putting yourself in front of my feet, stupid cat. That’s why you get kicked so much, you’re always where my feet are you god-damned--
        Samuel scurried out of the way to let the two squirrels pass. They both craned their necks to look at him. Was that really worry on their faces? Or disgust? Samuel’s clothes were old, and the hems of his pants were in tatters from when he’d been shorter and walked on them all the time and now they showed his ankles. The clothes the squirrel couple wore looked brand new. Samuel made himself small and hoped he didn’t smell. He was glad he’d been able to sneak a shower this morning. The janitor had seen him sneaking in but had only smiled and pretended not to notice.
        Samuel walked deeper into the greenspace, unable to keep the smile off his face. It was so wide open and green and pretty and it didn’t even smell at all. Well, it smelled a little, but that was probably him and he told himself he was used to it and couldn’t smell it. Peter never let him go to the greenspaces in the city, even though there was one just a few blocks from the apartment. No matter how much he insisted that he could walk five blocks by himself, Peter never let him, and Peter never went anywhere with Samuel that wasn’t absolutely necessary. This was the first time he’d been inside such a place, and it was just as good as his stolen glimpses had promised.
        There was a playground three times the size of the little fenced in one they had at school, and that was the smallest part of the whole space. There was a fountain with geese around it and a little forest with a few paths disappearing into it, even though they were still pretty far inside the city. Samuel could see a building over the tops of the trees.
        Samuel ran toward the playground, planting the toes of his left foot and pushing down instead of back as he stretched his good foot out. It must have looked awfully silly, but he could move a little faster than walking and it barely hurt his leg at all. He recognized other kids from his school and most of them smiled at him in recognition, but no one offered to play. He started counting, and noticed that all of the kids he recognized seemed to have at least one parent somewhere on the periphery of the playground. Some sat by the fountain and talked. A few dads sat on a bench together, not talking, each bent over his own phone and glancing up occasionally to ensure their child was still alive.
        Samuel loitered at the edge of the playing and watched. He’d gotten real good at watching people and knowing what they were paying attention to. Even when he had lived with mom and Gary, it had been important to know who was being noticed by whom, and especially when he was being noticed.
        So Samuel watched everyone play and watched the parents, too. Not everyone there was being watched. Samuel limped into the playground and into a little play area that was under the jungle gym. It had drums on one side and a spinning puzzle on the other and most of the parents weren’t sitting someplace they could see into it, but no one had come looking for the little girl who was building towers out of prickly seedballs inside.
        Samuel sat down and played with the spinning puzzle for a little while. The girl pouted when her little tower toppled over after only getting three high. She picked one up and threw it at one of the drums, but it wasn’t heavy enough to make the instrument sound.
        The girl was a tiger, obviously the prettiest and most majestic of all cats, and her proud stripes made Samuel feel even more worthless than ever. He wondered if she were stupid and had good hearing and liked to make other cats somehow, like Peter was always saying about cats. He swallowed nervously.
        “Hi.”
        “You smell funny.”
        “I know. I’m sorry.”
        “It’s okay. I smell funny, too.”
        “You do not! You smell pretty!”
        The girl giggled and turned a little to face him, her ears flicking. “That’s silly. How can I smell pretty? You don’t know if someone’s pretty with your nose, you know with your eyes!”
        “Well, you look pretty, too. And trust me, you smell pretty. Or, you smell what someone who looks pretty should smell like, and you do.”
        “Huh. Well, thanks.”
        “Where’s your parents?” Samuel asked. He wanted to know if he was right. He liked being right because he had to be so careful not to be right around Peter. He liked raising his hand in class, even though he wasn’t always right then. He wanted to be right now. He wanted to know if this pretty tiger girl really didn’t have any parents watching her at the playground. Maybe she was just like him.
        “I don’t have any,” the girl said levelly, starting to construct another tower. This time she made a circle of balls around one in the middle, and pushed each of them into the woodchips so they would stay.
        “You don’t?” Samuel asked. It wasn’t the answer he’d expected.
        “Not any more. I ran away. That means I’m an adult now and I can do whatever I want.”
        “Oh. Uhm. I don’t think that’s how that works.” He really, really wished it was, though.
        “Is so. Like, my name’s Rachel, but since I ran away I can make my name whatever I want it to be, like, Princess Unicorn Magic Halo Angelina.”
        “Oh.. Uh. Is that what  I should call you? Princess, uhmmm. . .”
        “Princess Unicorn Magic Halo Angelina,” the girl repeated. “And no, don’t be stupid. My name’s Rachel.”
        “My name’s Sammy,” he said, changing his mind from saying Samuel at the last second. Sammy is what his mom had always called him.
        Rachel giggled. “Your name can’t be Sammy! That’s a girl’s name!”
        “No it’s not!”
        “Is so. My sister’s name is Sammy.”
        “Well, so’s mine, and I’m not changing it and it’s not a girl’s name.”
        Rachel shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
        Samuel wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it seemed like he’d won the argument, and it hadn’t even hurt. “Why did you run away? I wish I could run away.”
        Rachel made a face. “It’s so not fair! Karen, my sister, I mean, my EX-sister has a boyfriend and Sammy my OTHER ex-sister has a girlfriend but ex-Mommy and ex-Daddy say I’m too young to have a boyfriend or girlfriend!”
        “Oh. I don’t have any friends either. Maybe I should run away.”
        Rachel giggled softly. “Not just friends, silly. Boy- or girl-friends! Your boyfriend or girlfriend is special. You do stuff with just them and not with anyone else. I wanted Popi to be my girlfriend, but Mommy and Daddy said that I wasn’t old enough and I was just being silly and making stuff up, so I ran away. You really should run away, you know! That way, you could be my runaway boyfriend!”
        Samuel perked up at that, his ears flicking, tail lashing excitedly. “Really? I’ve never had a friend before, and especially not a boyfriend!”
        Rachel giggled. “No silly, you’d be MY boyfriend. That makes me your girlfriend! See?”
        “Uh huh,” Samuel nodded, but he didn’t really. He took her word for it. “How do I run away?”
        “Well,” Rachel said slowly, pursing her lips out. She sure looked pretty like that. “You’re already not home, so just don’t plan on going back, and you’ll be a runaway just like me, okay?”
        “Okay!” Not going back to Peter’s apartment sounded like a very, very good idea. “So that’s it? I’m your runaway boyfriend? What do we do first?”
        Rachel grinned broadly. Her teeth were viciously sharp. “We play! Tag!”
        She ran off and Samuel squeaked. He’d rarely played tag before. Most of the time, the other boys played tag as an excuse to push him around. But Rachel touched him light, barely brushing his shoulder before running off. She was really playing! He hurried up and hobbled after her.
        Rachel glanced over her shoulder. He was far behind. He saw her notice her limp, but she didn’t slow down or look at him with pity or suggest they play another game. She just started running in a different manner, vaulting off her toes with both feet the way he did with his bad leg. It gave her a wide gait and slowed her considerably, but she was still hard to catch.
        They played tag together for what seemed like ages, weaving through the other children and ignoring them when they tried to play along. Only he and Rachel were ever ‘it,’ and he only ever tagged Rachel, and she only ever tagged him. The others quickly bored of it as their game ranged far through the greenspace. They were runaways. They had no mindful parents to fuss at them to get back in the playground.
        Rachel chased him into the trees and their game of tag quickly became hide and seek and then a race to the monkey bars and then a race across the monkey bars. Samuel actually won. His light body let him swing across the bars with ease. He grinned down at Rachel triumphantly, still hanging from the last bar. She was looking up at him oddly.
        “Sammy, you’re so small! I can count all your ribs when you hang like that! Are you hungry?”
        Samuel blushed and dropped into the woodchips, tugging his shirt into place. “No,” he lied quickly. Whether it was Peter or the boys at school asking, that question rarely resulted in anything good. Rachel looked at him oddly. It was getting dark. The streetlights and walking path lights were flickering to life, and the few other kids who were left were starting to be gathered up by their parents.
        “Okay,” Rachel said easily, taking his word for it. She moved close to him and took his hand. He flinched at first, then stared as her little paw cupped his and her fingers settled in between each one of his own like they were meant to fit together. She didn’t lift his hand and hit him with it. She didn’t even squeeze his fingers so the knuckles popped together, or grab his arm with her other hand and twist the fur until he yelped.
        She just held his hand and smiled at him while he stared. Fantasies flew through his head. He’d never go to Peter’s apartment again. He was Rachel’s runaway boyfriend, and she was his runaway girlfriend, and they would sleep under the slide together and kill small animals in the forest to eat and there wouldn’t be anyone to tell them to go to school. They’d hold hands and do everything Peter hated about cats. They’d be quick and loud and stupid and they’d prowl the streets at night and make other cats whenever they could.
        Samuel pictured them sitting side by side under the slide, creating a little army of play-doh cats and adding to it every night before they went to bed and when they slept, her hand was holding his.
        “Rachel!”
        A huge man came stomping through Samuel’s little imaginary cat army. He was bigger than any man Samuel had ever seen. He seemed bigger than most buildings Samuel had ever seen. He moved toward them with a smile on his face, but muscles bulged in the flannel shirt he wore. He didn’t stomp, either, even though he sure did in Samuel’s imagination. He had big tree trunk legs that would be perfect for stomping. Samuel’s imaginary cats were squished mercilessly underfoot.
        More than anything, Samuel wanted to flee. He couldn’t run fast, but he was little and the man was big and there was probably some place he could hide. If he could get to the forest, maybe he could duck between the trees and the man’s broad shoulders would get stuck in them.
        But no. Rachel held his hand. He wasn’t going to let it go until he absolutely had to. Until she let his hand go. If she let him keep holding on, he would. He would forever, he knew it. Plus, what if this man was like Peter? Or worse? He was so big, he could do whatever he wanted. No one was going to throw or hit this man, of that Samuel was certain.
        What did he think he could do? Stop him? Save Rachel? Stupid cat. He flinched. No. Brave cat. Brave catmouse. That’s what he was. Peter would never admit it, but Samuel had heard the judge. He was half mouse. His ears were a little rounder than they should be, and his teeth were flat, not sharp like Rachel’s and the tip of his tail was furless and pointy. He squeezed Rachel’s hand and looked over at her, intending to tell her that we was going to be brave for her, but she was raising her other hand over her head. She waved it excitedly, a smile on her face.
        “Daddy!”
        The giant tiger’s smile broke open, showing teeth just as sharp as Rachel’s as he reached down and swooped the little girl up into his arms. Their fingers slipped apart easily, Rachel giggling and throwing her arms around the giant’s neck. He kissed her firmly on the cheek as Samuel stared up at the both of them. Rachel seemed so far away that she might as well have been leaning over the railing of a lighthouse to look at him.
        “But. . .I thought you said you ran away?” he asked nervously.
        Rachel nodded emphatically. “I did! The best part of running away is that Daddy always comes and finds me and takes me home.”
        “Oh,” he said quietly, feeling the bottom of his stomach dropping away and dread rolling over him. He couldn’t picture Peter going out of his way to find him. Disappearing probably would have been the best thing Samuel could do for the cruel man.
        The giant tiger named ‘Daddy’ smiled down at him and Samuel cringed, expecting a blow. He didn’t know what the punishment for holding someone’s daughter’s hand was. He’d never imagined doing such a thing, much less actually done it and gotten caught. He imagined it would be severe. He heard only a soft rustle and braved a peek. The big man was kneeling down. He didn’t seem quite as much of a giant anymore, and he was smiling.
        “Who’s this, littlebit?” he asked softly. It took Samuel a moment to realize ‘littlebit’ was his pet name for Rachel.
        “This is Sammy. He’s my runaway boyfriend. You wouldn’t let me have a real one, so I had to run away to get one.”
        The giant made a soft sound in chest and his brow furrowed a little. “Ah, I see.” He turned to look at Samuel. He quailed a little. He really wanted to run away. But he didn’t want to look like a coward in front of Rachel. And he couldn’t run very fast anyway.
        “Well, Sammy, my name is Bill, and I’m Rachel’s father. I have three daughters and they’re all just as wild as my littlebit here and that makes me a very, very careful man. Do you think you can take care of my daughter, Scout?”
        No. Of course not. He couldn’t even take care of himself. He couldn’t even manage not to get peed on every night. He couldn’t walk down stairs without falling and now he could barely walk at all. Stupid cat. Stupid stupid stupid. He flinched.
        “Yes, sir.”
        Something changed in Bill’s eyes. It wasn’t pity. Samuel hated pity. And disgust. They were the only two things he usually got from adults. Pity meant saying ‘aww’ and doing nothing. It meant looking politely worried but still standing to one side as Peter dragged him off by the arm. Samuel hated pity as much as he hated Peter. Except Bill had no pity in his eyes. So what was that look, then? Whatever it was, it made Sammy want to wrap his arms around Bill’s neck and cry. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.
        “Listen to me, Scout. I know I’m big--”
        “You’re enormous.”
        This made Bill chuckle. It was a deep, rumbling sound like thunder except pleasant and warm. “Alright, fine. I know I’m enormous. But I will never, ever raise a hand to hurt you.”
        “He’ll act like he’s going to, though!”
        “Littlebit. . .” Bill said warningly, but Rachel wasn’t afraid.
        “I’ve seen him! He makes his fur stand all up and he looks EVEN BIGGER and he makes a big deep sound in his chest and opens his claws up!”
        “I only do that for Jake and Nikki.”
        “I know! And now Sammy. Because he’s my boyfriend, remember, Daddy? It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t scare him, too!”
        Thunder crashed over the greenspace, except it was just Bill laughing again. He leaned in and kissed Rachel’s cheek and the girl giggled and squinted as the man squished her face against his lips.
        “I don’t think Sammy needs to be scared, sweetie. He’s a very respectable young man. Not like Jake or Nikki. Little troublemakers, those two! He even called me sir, didn’t you, Scout?”
        It was the fourth or fifth time Bill had called him Scout. If he hadn’t used his real name just then, Samuel would’ve thought the man had forgotten or misheard his name. No. He’s given me a pet name, just the same way he calls Rachel ‘littlebit.’ It made him feel warm inside. 
        Samuel felt a little guilty about being praised for saying ‘sir.’ He’d never said it before in his life. Something about Bill demanded his respect, and the word had tumbled off his lips without his even thinking about it. Maybe it was the way the giant man looked him in the eyes when he spoke and treated him like a real person. The warmth in Samuel’s belly grew.
        “Yes, sir,” he agreed.
        Bill smiled and nodded, standing up, lifting Rachel so far away again. “I have to carry my little princess home before my wife makes a rug out of me,” he said, rumbling with amusement at his own joke. Samuel smiled tentatively.
        “Daddy, I want to play boyfriend and girlfriend with Sammy again tomorrow!”
        Bill screwed up his face, looking for all the world like he was about to erupt at his little daughter and yell at her for so presumptuous. Samuel quailed. Rachel burst out into laughter, reaching out a little finger and beeping her father’s nose.
        “Oh no!” Bill cried out in dismay, clutching his face. “You’ve found my Nice Dad button!” He flailed, teetering to one side and then the other as if he might fall over. Samuel stared while Rachel squealed with laughter, hanging on tightly.
        “Now you’ve got to do whatever I say!” Rachel cried out triumphantly.
        The two laughed and Samuel just stared and stared. They were getting blurry. Was he crying? Stupid cat. Caterwauling at all hours of the night. Just because someone hurt your feelings.
        Just because Bill’s not my Daddy.
        He blinked away the tears. The two were still laughing, but Bill was walking back and Samuel didn’t want to be seen crying. Only stupid cats cried. And he wasn’t one. He was a brave catmouse. For Rachel, he was.
        “Sammy, would you like me to bring Rachel back here after school tomorrow?”
        Samuel gasped. “Oh. She won’t even have to run away? Will I still be her runaway boyfriend?”
        Rachel squealed with giggles again. She covered her mouth with both hands, blushing, her eyes twinkling at him from so high up. Bill thundered with a chuckle, too, and Samuel wondered what he’d said that was so funny.
        “How about just her boyfriend, Scout, if that’s what she wants.” Bill looked at Rachel in askance, and the girl nodded excitedly. Samuel’s heart soared.
        “Really? Yes, sir, I’d like that very much!”
        Bill beamed with a smile. The sincere feeling behind it made the row of vicious teeth seem a little less threatening A little. 
        “Good. Should we come here, then? Is this the closest park to your house?”
        “Yes, sir” Samuel lied immediately. He didn’t want these wonderful people knowing where he really lived. They’d figure out that he was only worthy of their pity or disgust. They’d hate him if they knew he lived in Peter’s apartment.
        “It’s a date, then,” Bill declared. Rachel giggled wildly and Bill beamed as if proud of himself. Samuel was left out of the joke again. Bill smiled at him and they both waved, then the giant tiger turned to carry his little girl away. Rachel twisted around in her dad’s arms and waved at him. Samuel grinned like a fool, waving back until they turned a corner. After a few moments, he heard a car start in the distance.
        It was fully dark, now. The city made the clouds glow over head, and the reflected light mixed with the electric glow of the street lamps so that everything was pale orange. He guessed the busses would still be running, but he didn’t feel like going to catch one. Running away had sounded so nice. Well, couldn’t he still do that, just on his own? He got a free breakfast and lunch at school each day. The nights weren’t cold. He could sleep in the park here, under the slide or in the little forest climbed up in one of the trees or something.
        He didn’t have to go back. He never would.

        ***

        “Kid. Hey, kid.” Samuel was jostled awake by the nudge of something hard and smooth. He looked up. A police officer was standing over him. There was pity in his eyes. It was still dark. Samuel guessed it was very, very late.
        “Ya can’t sleep here, kid. You gotta mom or dad you want me to call?”
        “I’m sorry, officer. I was supposed to go home, but I didn’t want to stop playing. Are the buses still running?”
        “Yer awful young to be taking a bus, kid.”
        “It’s okay. My mom works late. I’m in after school care. The city bus is the only way I can get home. I got so tired playing. I only meant to lie down for a minute.” The lies sprang easily to his lips. He’d learned that from Gary and mom. They had lied to him and lied to each other and he always knew which ones were lies, even though they didn’t think he did. 
        “Uh huh. Only the third shift buses are running. Closest stop’s up on Alethea Boulevard. Get up, I’ll walk ya.”
        Samuel couldn’t think of a way to lie his way out of that, but he stood slowly to give himself extra time to think of something. Nothing came. He walked alongside the officer reluctantly.
        His chance came at the next intersection. The cop looked both ways cautiously, then began to cross. It was so late, the lights above were just flashing yellow. The cop was checking a long way down the road, prepared to stop traffic for Samuel to limp across.
        Instead, Samuel turned and ran. He was several limping vaults away before he heard the cop shout behind him. He ducked into an alley and then another one and then clambered over a box behind a dumpster to hide.
        It took a long time for the cop to give up looking for him, and an even longer time for him to find his way back to the greenspace. It was still very late, though, enough time for him to get a couple of hours of sleep before the dawn woke him. He couldn’t afford to miss breakfast. He considered going in early enough for another shower, but decided against it. If he sniffed just the right part of his sleeve and closed his eyes and thought about her real hard, he could just barely smell Rachel.
        He felt around in the middle of the tiny forest in the greenspace, feeling tree trunks until he found one that seemed nice and thick. He used his claws to scale it easily. Stupid cat, huh? He bet Peter couldn’t climb a tree with just his claws. He had to climb down after a minute, though. The tree didn’t have enough thick branches at the right angles to hold him up. It took him two more tries before he found one, and then he nestled in the crook of its branches, sunk his claws into the bark, and fell right asleep.

        ***

        Samuel made it the whole rest of the week, and the weekend, too. Saturday and Sunday were the hardest. He had no school meals to rely on, then. But there had been a function in the park on Saturday, with grills and canopies and lots of people, and everyone had just assumed he was someone’s kid when he’d walked up and taken an empty paper plate and walked up to the grill with a hopeful look on his face.
        Sunday, he’d just gone hungry.
        After he knew that they existed, the police patrols were easy to avoid. He wasn’t the only runaway to think of sleeping in the park, except all the other runaways were adults and smelled even worse than he did.
        Rachel met with him everyday after school, and they played and played until they couldn’t play anymore and ended up collapsing in the grass, panting and laughing and pointing up at clouds or just staring up at the blue sky when the clouds weren’t there. And always, Bill took a spot among the ranks of the parents and watched them carefully but from a distance, and all the time Samuel pretended that Bill was his dad and that he was as happy all the time as he was in those few hours before dark.
        And then the weekend came and he didn’t see her at all. Other kids came. There was almost no hour of daylight when the playground didn’t have at least one other kid there, and the greenspace swelled with more adults than ever over the weekend, some waking him up before dawn as they moved determinedly down the walking trail below him, earbuds in their ears, completely oblivious of him.
        He wasn’t alone, but he was terribly lonely. Two whole days without Rachel--without happiness--was like torture. When the bell rang, he practically bolted out of his chair. But his teacher caught him by the arm. She was gentle, but her hand had caught him in the same place where Peter always caught him. Peter was never gentle. Apparently, he still had a big bruise there, even after five days of being a runaway.
        His teacher looked down at him with pity and Samuel hated her for it. He was taken to the principal’s office. Peter was with the principal. Samuel’s heart sank with the realization that he wouldn’t be seeing Rachel today. He felt sick, like he might throw up, like he’d been punched in the stomach. He wouldn’t be happy today. He might not ever be happy again. That realization hurt more than whatever Peter was planning to do to him.
        The adults talked over his head. Peter put on a good show for them. He knew the song and dance. He knew how to play this part, a part he only played around adults who might take Samuel away. Peter hated him more than anything in the world except maybe his stupid cheating bitch cat whore of a mother, and told him so often. But the judge had ordered Peter to keep him, and the state paid him every month for the service. No, Peter knew this part very well.
        The principal scolded him about the dangers of running away and for worrying ‘his father’ to death. Samuel just shook his head. His ‘father’ only decided to come down and play the part of worried father when his concern over his monthly check had finally outweighed his appreciation of Samuel’s disappearance.
        Samuel looked up in desperation at his teacher, even as the principal continued to lecture him. Please. I know you can see. I know you know. Please.
        The teacher watched the lecture with pity in her eyes. Samuel hated her.

        ***

        “I don’t think he’s coming, littlebit,” Bill said gently. Rachel pushed her lower lip out. Tears glistened in her eyes. Ah, heartbreak. It was no different at 6 than 60.
        Bill opened his arms and Rachel ran into them. When he folded her up in a hug, only her feet, tail, and ears poked out. She sniffled and hugged him tight.
        “Where’d he go, Daddy?”
        “He probably just had to go home home early today, sweetie. Sometimes things come up that you can’t plan for.”
        She sniffled again. “Yeah. . .” she said doubtfully.
        Bill had his doubts, too. He was no fool, and the little boy’s limp was hard to miss. He cringed so badly every time Bill said the word ‘stupid’ that he’d removed it from his vocabulary entirely.
        He’d watched the young boy carefully. He was cautious of adults and for the first hour or so, he would always glance toward the entrance of the park until he got caught playing with Rachel. Was he the only one seeing the signs of abuse?
        No, he couldn’t be. He couldn’t be judgemental of others for not doing anything. What had he done? If he had evidence, if he even knew where the boy lived, it might be different. It would be different. But Sammy was so paranoid, his lies so cautious, that Bill’s leading inquiries hadn’t gotten anywhere.
        Sarah slid onto the bench beside him and patted Rachel’s head. Rachel had insisted her mom come and meet her new boyfriend, and when she heard the word ‘boyfriend’ she’d agreed immediately and shot Bill a glare. She looked at him questioningly and he shrugged.
        “I’m going to go find the girls. We’ll go home and I’ll fix you your favorite for dinner, okay, sweetie?”
        Rachel emerged from Bill’s arms a little, sniffling. She looked up at Sarah hopefully. “Can I eat it raw?”
        “Absolutely not, young lady. You know the rules.”
        Rachel pouted. “But moooommm!”
        Sarah sighed, standing up. “Rare.”
        “Bloody!”
        “A little bloody, you little carnivore,” Sarah agreed, laughing. She turned toward the small wooded area where Sammy and Karen--too ‘old’ for the playground--had disappeared to. Rachel hopped out of Bill’s lap and started to play with the other children, but she mostly just moved around disconsolately, not paying attention and looking frequently toward the street, hoping to see her ‘boyfriend’ arrive.
        Bill pulled a cigar out of his shirt pocket. He’d gotten in the habit of bringing it to the park with Rachel. It helped him think. He’d been chewing on the same unlit cigar for nearly a week now. It was beginning to show signs of wear. A mom nearby looked at him, aghast, and he just shrugged and showed her the unlit tip and a winning smile and only suggested in his head that she mind her own damned business.
        He didn’t pull out his book. Sarah wouldn’t be gone long enough for him to get into it, so he rolled the cigar back and forth in his mouth and thought about little Sammy. Well, the boy Sammy, not his daughter. He’d seen the signs of abuse immediately. He’d been careful to be gentle and caring with the boy, and even still, it had taken quite some time to get past his paranoia, and after that, his jealousy.
        But things had gone well after the first day. Sammy had shown no new signs of abuse, and his attitude had been downright cheerful. Friday had gone even better. His limp improved, and he no longer winced when being touched on the arm. Bill had started to second guess himself. Maybe the boy really had fallen down a flight of stairs. Maybe he was mistaken about the abuse. What did he really know about Rachel’s little runaway boyfriend anyw--
        . . .
        Runaway?
        A piece clicked into place in Bill’s head. He sorted quickly through his memories of the boy from Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Same blue shirt. Same denim jeans. Perhaps just a little shabbier? He had missed it at the time. The shirt wasn’t particularly remarkable. Anyone might wear a plain blue shirt three days in a row.
        But Sammy had been wearing the same shirt and the same jeans all three days. He really was a runaway, and Bill was right about the abuse, he was certain of it. Where had he been sleeping? In the park? Under a car somewhere? He must’ve either gotten too hungry over the weekend and been forced to return home, or whoever had been abusing him had found him. Either way. . . 
        Bill stood up abruptly, his adrenaline pumping, his arms unconsciously flexed in his button down shirt. Rachel twirled to look at him. The whole park stopped to turn to look at him. He was huffing angrily, and his fur was standing up. He wanted to rip something apart. He would rip something--someone--apart, if only he could find them.
        “D-daddy?” Rachel asked into the silence.
        Bill turned away from the playground, past the staring parents, pacing up and down in the grass to one side, wondering what he would do. How would he find him? Bill just knew he was in trouble. There had to be something he could do. He flexed his big paws and only realized his claws were extended when they pricked his palm.
        “Daddy!” Rachel cried out again, but this time she wasn’t looking at him. Bill looked up.
        As if in answer to his frantic worry, Samuel came hobbling into the park. Not just hobbling. Running, or trying to run. His limp was worse, not better. Nearby, there was an angry skreech of tires as a car pulled to a sudden stop. Bill felt his stomach clench into an angry knot. He felt sick with guilt, and a very dark part of him hoped that car belonged to who he thought it did. He roared with frustration and pelted across the open grass.
        “Bill!” Sarah cried out in alarm as he ran past her. He didn’t answer. Samuel’s lip was bleeding and his left eye was swollen shut. Bill’s vision turned red with rage and he felt perfectly prepared to rend the head from the body of whoever had done that to his little girl’s boyfriend.
        Samuel stopped in the middle of the grass, staring up at Bill, his eyes wide with fear. Bill slowed but stalked past the boy, then stopped a few paces in front of him, waiting.
        “Sammy!” Rachel cried out.
        “What?” Samantha asked in confusion.
        “Oh, you’re bleeding. Mommy, he’s bleeding!”
        Bill didn’t have to turn to know that Sarah gathered the frightened little boy up in her arms. He could have been a perfect stranger, and she would have done just the same. All four of the women in his life descended on Samuel with concern and care. As the man of the family, it was Bill’s job to descend upon the person responsible.
        A mouse rounded the gate into the greenspace, anger in his eyes as he ranged about. His eyes fell on Samuel, then on BIll. His whole demeanor changed. His face transformed, his back straightened, and his gait changed from an angry stride to a casual pace. He clearly thought Bill was a gullible fool. Bill had no problems dissuading him of that notion.
        The man strode forward as if to pass BIll right by. “Oh, thank goodness you found my--”
        Bill put his hand on the man’s chest, very gently, but with all five claws extended. The man stopped and looked up at him in innocent askance.
        “You’re this boy’s father?” Bill asked carefully.
        “Yes, I--”
        “I see that you enjoy being bigger than him. You barely feed him, you beat him, and god knows what else.” Bill clenched his hand around the guys shirt, his claws tearing the fabric as he grabbed it and pulled the man closer. “I know a thing or two about being bigger than other people.”
        A gentle hand was placed on his upper arm. “Bill,” Sarah said softly. She didn’t say anything else. Just his name, a single soft word loaded with emotion and concern. Bill wavered.
        “Now wait just a fucking minute, you giant, stupid cat,” the mouse started angrily. Behind him, Bill heard Samuel react instinctively, whimpering as the mouse spat the words ‘stupid cat’ in Bill’s face. “Don’t open your stupid mouth when you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I’m here to take my son ho--”
        “No!” Samuel squealed in terror. “No, please, I can’t go back there, I won’t!”
        Bill’s wavering resolve steeled itself again. He roared in fury in the mouse’s face and gripped his shirt harder, pulling back his other arm as his hand curled into a fist as big as the mouse’s head. The mouse paled and struggled frantically.
        And again, soft hands touched his arm. “Bill,” Sarah said again. Bill paused, suddenly uncertain. He turned to look into Sarah’s eyes. The mouse scrambled away desperately, leaving the front of his shirt a tatters in Bill’s hand. He tripped over his own feet in his haste to get away, kicking away along the ground as he fled from Bill, who still had his fist reared back to clobber the guy’s head clean off his shoulders.
        “You fucking moron! You tried to kill me! I’m calling the police. I’ll see you in court, you giant, stupid--”
        “What’s going on here? Eh, you again?”
        Bill lowered his fist as a patrol officer rounded the gate. Bill looked around, wondering if the officer meant the mouse. But the fox was looking past them both at Samuel, who lowered his head, embarrassed. Startled by the officer’s uncanny timing, Bill looked around. A group of parents stood at the edge of the playground a hundred feet away, children shielded behind their legs. More than one parent had their phones in hand. The uniformed fox wasn’t there by coincidence. Someone had called the police. Good. The police could do something about this whole thing. 
        Immediately, the mouse began babbling, accusing Bill of trying to kill him and trying to kidnap his son and other outrageous lies. The uniformed man ignored him. He was still staring at Samuel.
        “Shut up. You go stand over there.” He pointed to the nearby wall of the greenspace, by the gate. “And you,” he added, pointing at Bill. “Over there.” He pointed several feet down the wall. “I think I see the real problem here.” 
        Bill nodded and went without comment. He was no stranger to an officer directing him to stand to one side and await questioning. His size had gotten him confused for an instigator enough times in college to know how to keep his mouth shut and wait for things to be sorted out. The mouse, however, had no such experience. He kept babbling in the officer’s face frantically, and when the fox stepped toward the girls and Samuel, the mouse stepped in his path.
        The fox stopped. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you again to step aside and await questioning. Refusal will be considered obstruction. I will not hesitate to restrain you if--”
        “Aren’t you listening to me?! That giant oaf over there ripped my--”
        “Right then,” the fox said softly. He was old enough to be gray around the whiskers, and the slight Irish lilt to his accent gave him an air of kindliness. And yet, his age and congeniality melted away as he moved around the mouse, grabbed his arm with one hand and his cuffs with the other. In a moment, the mouse was nose down in the grass with his hands cuffed behind his back. He shouted out angrily, spewing vitriol at officer, who now pointedly ignored him. Bill crossed his arms, satisfied, and watched with interest as the fox knelt by Samuel. Bill felt a surge of pride when none of his four women backed away from Samuel. Samantha and Karen both crossed their arms, looking angry, and Sarah, standing behind them, touched them each gently on the shoulder, easing away their instinctive will to fight the way she had Bill’s. Rachel never wavered from Sammy’s side, clutching his hand in hers and looking the officer square in the eyes as if daring him to tell her to step aside. He didn’t.
        “You ran away from me the other night, son,” the fox said softly, the rough brogue kindness back in his tone. It wasn’t a question.
        “Yes, sir,” Samuel said softly. Bill watched him, impressed by the stuff he was made of. He didn’t quiver or cry, and his back was straight even though he was clearly in a lot of pain.
        “That because you were afraid t’ go home?”
        Samuel quailed, just a little. His eyes flicked over to where his father lay in the grass, but the fox gently interposed himself, forcing Samuel to keep eye contact with him and no one else.
        “Yes, sir.”
        “He do this to you, then?” he jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating the handcuffed man.
        Samuel lowered his head for the first time. He sniffed and shifted on his feet, leaning off his injured hip.
        “Yes, sir.” 
        The fox nodded. He jerked his head toward Bill. “And the big fella, did he try to kill your da for it?”
        Samuel hesitated this time, looking over at Bill with pain evident in his one good eye. Bill smiled comfortingly at him. He couldn’t think of any reason he’d rather go to jail for than beating that boy’s father’s face into the pavement. If he was going to have charges brought against him, he just wished at least that he’d done it. Despite his size, Bill had never been a violent man. He’d broken up a hundred fights and been questioned by police a dozen times during college, but never once had he thrown a punch, or even made a fist with the intent to harm.
        Apparently, he’d just never met someone so deserving of a pummeling before. 
        Sarah touched Samuel’s shoulder gently. “Don’t be anxious. Tell the truth.”
        Samuel nodded quietly and looked the officer in the eye again. “I think he might’ve, if you hadn’t come. He was real, real angry. But all he did was tear Peter’s shirt a little.”
        The fox officer nodded again. “This is very important, son. Did he throw a punch? Hurt him in any way?”
        “No, sir,” Samuel said instantly. “He made a fist but he never tried to hit him. Peter fell, but it was because he tripped when he was running away.”
        Peter cried out angrily from a few steps away. He’d managed to stand up and was yelling that the boy was lying, that his very life had been in danger. He was pointedly ignored.The officer stood from his kneeling position and turned toward Bill, nodding him over. Bill gladly rejoined his family, Sarah hugging him tightly around the neck as he encircled his children, and Samuel with his broad arms.
        “Sir, do I need to give you a lecture about taking the law into your own hands?”
        Bill shook his head. “No, officer. I’m sorry I nearly let things get out of hand.”
        The fox nodded. “Right then. I’ll be taking that one,” her jerked his thumb toward the livid man Samuel had named as ‘Peter,’ “down to the station. There’ll be a formal investigation and a criminal hearing, and unfortunately you and your family will have to be involved. My name is Tim Greely, and you can reach me at the station if you have any questions. I’m going to need some information so a detective can be in touch.”
        The sun was setting by the time Bill and Sarah had signed preliminary statements and given their contact information. The six of them stood on the sidewalk outside the greenspace and watched as Officer Greely read Peter his rights and ushered him into the squad car. Another car had arrived as well, and the two other officers were taking statements from the other parents who’d watched the scene. Officer Greely closed the door on Peter and walked back to them.. He looked up at Bill, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
        “We’ll, ah, have to be taking the young man along. A doctor’ll see to him in the hospital, and he’ll need give a statement right away, but it looks like the state’ll be taking him from there.”
        Sarah made a soft sound and tugged at Bill’s arm. Bill wrapped his arm around her gently and glanced in her eyes, seeing the pain there. He released her and motioned at Officer Greely, and the two of them stepped to one side to talk out of the boy’s earshot.
        “Officer, doesn’t he have anyone else? His mother? Grandparents?” Bill glanced back at Sarah, who was biting at the knuckle of her clenched fist. The girls were all in a huddle with Samuel as part of their circle. They were playing some kind of game with their hands, Karen explaining the rules as they went along, the four of them oblivious to everything else. Bill’s heart clenched as he saw the wonder glistening in Sammy’s good eye. The boy marveled at the simple act of having friends to play with.
        “I checked. That’s what’s been taking so long, what with his da not being all that. . .cooperative. Mother is passed on, grandparents, too. There’s a stepfather in the picture there, somewhere, but he barely knew the kid, and we haven’t been able to get in touch with him anywise.”
        Bill nodded, his heart sinking. There was no alternative. He hoped the young boy had an easier time in the system than Sarah had. At least he’d have friends outside the orphanage or the foster families he ended up in. “Could. . .is there a way we can keep in touch? My littlest, Rachel, is awfully attached to her new playmate.”
        “Oh, I think so. I’m not sure how it works, but I’ll pass it on to the detective. Probably would do him good, to have something stable in his life right now.”
        “That’s what I was thinking,” Bill said with a nod.
        He walked back over to rejoin his family, gently ushering them to the side as Officer Greely came and knelt by Samuel, talking quietly to him. To his credit, the boy took the news well, nodding with apparent understanding.
        Samuel turned and walked back over to them. He hugged Samantha, then Karen, then Sarah, who made a soft choked sound as she bent to give him an extra long hug in return. Then he walked over to Bill and looked up at him with his one good eye. Bill was nearly three times his height, and only a few days ago, the boy had cowered in terror at the very sight of him. Samuel straightened himself up a little, and Bill belatedly realized he was imitating Bill’s own posture. The boy stuck his hand out, his lips in a flat line.
        Bill smiled, surprised, and took the boy’s tiny paw in his own enormous one. “Thank you for letting me be Rachel’s boyfriend, sir. And for kinda being my da for a week,” he added, having picked up the word from the officer’s brogue. “You’re the best one I’ve ever had.”
        Bill opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. He knelt and gathered the boy up in his massive arms. Samuel felt like tissue paper in his arms, and he hugged as gently as he could. Samuel made a soft sound of surprise, then buried his face in the ruff of fur under Bill’s neck. It was a long time before Bill set him down again.
        Rachel ran over from Sarah’s side and threw her arms around Samuel’s neck as Bill stood again. Bill chuckled softly and smiled down at them, but couldn’t see them quite clearly. His vision had blurred rather alarmingly for no apparent reason. He turned away from the police officers standing nearby, blinking rapidly. Rachel whispered something in Samuel’s ear then kissed him right on the lips, stealing a sheepish but defiant glance up at Bill afterwards before fleeing back to her mother’s side.
        The Keating family gathered together on the sidewalk again, Bill’s four young ladies gathered in the circle of his arms, all of them waving to goodbye to Samuel. Bill looked down at Rachel.
        “What did you whisper to him?” 
        Rachel looked up at him, her lips thin, as if she expected to be argued with. “That I’d see him soon.”

        ***
        
        Sarah closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cool wood headboard. Her eyes didn’t feel heavy at all, despite the 3 am hour. She glanced down at the blanket in her hands. Her idle fingers, filled with nervous energy, had picked the edge so to shreds that it left a hole in the blanket that looked like a giant had taken a bite out of it. She tugged at one of the threads, unraveling it further, her other fingers automatically moving in to pluck at the other threads. She sighed, throwing the blanket away from her anxious hands. She looked down at Bill, who rumbled with a deep, contented snore that, to her dismay, each of her daughters had inherited in varying degrees. She glared at him, annoyed that he slept while she couldn’t, the big man oblivious to her growing anxiety.
        “Bill,” she said softly, desperately.
        To his credit, the snoring stopped. He smacked his lips and roused after only a few moments, rolling over to see what was bothering her. When he saw her anxious pose, he frowned and sat up to be beside her.
        “Still thinking about him?”
        “Yes,” she admitted. It had been three weeks since the boy’s father’s arrest, and he’d spent the first two in the hospital, recovering from surgery for a fracture in his hip. In the meantime, the whole keating family had given statements to the police, even Samantha and Karen, who’d hardly been involved at all. Bill had gone in several times, both to give or clarify statements and to check on proceedings. She’d been angry with the police, feeling like they were taking up far too much of Bill’s time. Then he’d come home one afternoon last week and ordered them all to the car.
        Bill had been putting in extra time making sure Rachel could make good on her promise. He’d kept a close eye on the boy’s recovery from surgery and immediately been trying to find out where he’d be placed. And so, the whole family had visited Samuel in his group home. Sarah couldn’t recall ever being more heartbroken. The place was very carefully referred to as a group home, but the word for what it really was rattled around in her head: orphanage. The employees were all friendly, if somewhat defensive, during their visit, and the children were clean and none of them seemed to be starving. Bill had said encouraging words to her on the car ride home, but she’d fretted over the boy ever since.
        He’d seemed genuinely happy. That was the worst part of it. He was so excited to show them his own bed, and nevermind the fact that he shared the room with four other children. He no longer smelled like urine and dried blood, and the clothes he wore fit, despite being obvious hand-me-downs, and look, the cane the doctor had given him let him run so much faster than his awkward and painful limp had before the surgery.
        Sarah knew that sort of happiness. She recalled all too well the at-least-it’s-not-worse happiness of her childhood. She’d been lucky enough to leave the system after only a few years, find a home in a loving family that genuinely cared for her, even to this day, receive a good education and build a loving family of her own. . .but most of the children she shared those years with didn’t end up lucky. Her dreams the last several nights had been haunted with memories of Mitch, who had killed himself driving drunk several years ago, or Clara, who aged out of the system and was now trapped in an abusive relationship after spending a few years on the street.
        In Sarah’s dreams, Mitch and Clara’s faces became Samuel’s. Growing up in a group home or jumping between foster homes wasn’t the worst way to grow up. She was living proof of that. But didn’t Samuel deserve a better chance than that? Especially if she was in a position to provide that chance.
        “We don’t have the money,” Bill said softly. She didn’t have to say anything for him to guess where her mind was.
        “That’s not true,” she said. There was no vehemence in her voice. This wasn’t an argument, it was a game they played. Bill may have made his mind up already, but he would give in to whatever decision she came around to. It was his job to give a voice to the doubts rattling around in her own head.
        “We don’t have the room,” he tried again. “Karen and Rachel already share a bedroom.”
        “We could convert your study,” she said, giving him a sidelong glance. In the deep darkness of night, his expression didn’t change, but she could hear his fur bristle. “Fine. We’ll build on. You thought about doing that for Rachel anyway.”
        He grunted. “We can’t give him the same education we’re giving the girls.”
        That gave her pause. It was true. They had the money to care for the boy, even the money and equity to add on to the house. But there was simply no room in the budget for a fourth Griffin Heights tuition, especially with high school on the horizon for Karen. Even as legacies, the girls’ tuition was already their biggest expense each year.
        “He’ll still get a better education at Bradbury and AC Clarke than he would across town,” she said, finally. “And we can apply for scholarships for Sammy and Karen. Sammy’s got the grades, and Karen’s got a real shot at making varsity her freshman year. And even if that doesn’t work, we can still enroll him once Karen graduates, so he and Rachel can go to high school together.”
        Bill was silent for a long while. Sarah looked down at her hands. She was going to have to throw the blanket out. Without her realizing it, her fingers had gone back to picking it to tatters. No, she wouldn’t throw it out. She couldn’t repair it like new, but she could at least stitch the hole back together. Winter was only a few months away, and she distinctly remembered one of the girls in Samuel’s shared room sleeping with only a sheet on her bed.
        “You only met him twice,” was Bill’s next argument, which certainly echoed one in her head.
        She smiled. It was true. She’d only met the little boy twice, first in the park, and then again in the home. She felt like that should matter, that she was proposing bringing the young boy into her family after having only spent perhaps an hour in his company. But it didn’t.
        “You met him plenty of times. And Rachel spent hours by his side. And even still, only knowing him a few hours, I saw the way you were both devoted to him. You would’ve gone to jail for him without a word of complaint.”
        Bill grunted again. It was perhaps his most eloquent form of communication. Short, and to the point. She knew she’d won. But she suspected he’d already made the same decision hours ago. He’d been able to sleep just fine, after all.
        “We’ll go in the morning,” he said. She smiled, and slid down into the bed, clutching the shredded blanket to her chest, her eyelids suddenly, finally, feeling heavy.
        “Closer to lunch,” she said. “I have some sewing to do first.”
        She was answered by the deep, thunderous roll of Bill’s snore.

        ***

        Samantha peered around the corner into the living room, fidgeting. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she drew it out. Nikki was excited by the new addition to her family, expressing some jealousy over having sisters and now a brother, too. Nikki, as an only child, voiced her jealousy over this often. Samantha wasn’t quite so sure this new boy was a good addition. As far as she was concerned, the jury was still out on Rachel, too. She couldn’t do much about Karen, since she was the eldest, but she certainly envied Nikki’s only-child status sometimes.
        Her phone buzzed in her fingers again. Nikki was hoping to visit soon, to meet Samuel “among other things.” Samantha grinned, biting her lip and letting her body warm at the thought of seeing Nikki again. It’d been weeks since they’d been able to see each other outside of school, and making out in the bathroom was starting to become more torture than fun. She shivered, texting Nikki back quickly, then shoving her phone in her pocket. Tomorrow would be Saturday. Hopefully she’d have plenty of time with Nikki then.
        She peered around the corner again, watching Rachel and Samuel build a huge tower out of blocks, Samuel’s cane laying beside him as he sat on his good hip, leaning to one side. Rachel had always been good at towers, but Samuel added a level of creativity to the creations that Rachel usually lacked. The result was a sprawling thing that looked like it should never be able to stand up, but did. It reminded Samantha of Nikki’s natural flair for building things. Karen was engrossed in her phone, probably texting Jake the same way she was with Nikki. Samantha couldn’t help but giggle. By the way Karen’s nipples pressed into her t-shirt, she guessed that Karen and Jake’s texting went way further than hers.
        Karen kept her ears perked forward, though. Ostensibly, she was ‘watching’ Rachel and Samuel, though that mostly amounted to looking up every now and then, reaching a toe out, and carefully toppling a section of the tower, always acting disappointed when the whole thing didn’t come crashing down. Mommy and Daddy sat at the kitchen table, talking with a lawyer and a woman from the government about adding Samuel to the family permanently. Her parents had been working on the paperwork for over a week. 
        Samantha frowned, crossing her arms and retreating behind the corner again, where the three strangers in her house couldn’t see her. Gaining yet another sibling was bad enough. But did he have to be named Samuel? Sammy was her name! It just wasn’t fair. She heard the chairs in the dining room scrape against the floor and she leaned to see all of the adults smiling and shaking hands. The woman from the government walked over to Samuel and gave him a hug, then whispered something in his ear.
        “Really?! I get to stay?”
        “Yes, really,” Mommy said with tears in her eyes. “You’re officially a Keating.”
        “Well, not officially a Keating. The probate judge has to sign the name change before that part is official,” the lawyer said.
        “Still,” said the woman. “Sammy Keating has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
        There was an awkward silence. Samantha growled in her throat as every pair of eyes, even Samuel’s, even the lawyer’s, flicked over toward the corner she was hiding behind. The woman, however, looked confused at the reaction, having no idea why her statement shouldn’t be met with smiles and agreement.
        Samantha stepped out from behind the corner where, apparently, everyone had known she was hiding. She stood a little straighter. Nikki talked to her all the time about confidence. About what a good alpha she was and how she ought to be more assertive at home. She was outgoing and open around her family when strangers weren’t around, but she was never the most dominant person in the room. With Karen, and Daddy, and especially Mommy in the house, there was very little room left for her to be assertive. Only Nikki ever gave her the space to be the alpha she felt like when she was alone. She flipped her long white hair back over her shoulder and shrugged dismissively.
        “Sammy Keating,” she said into the still lingering silence. “That does sound good for him. I’ve outgrown it. I like Samantha better. It’s less childish, and that’s what Nikki likes to call me anyway. So I’ll be Samantha Keating, and he can be Sammy Keating. So there’s no confusion.”
        The woman from the government had the presence of mind to look embarrassed as Samantha pointed out exactly what she’d been forgetting. Samantha glanced at Karen out of the corner of her eye and was surprised to see her sister grinning and giving her a little thumbs up. It made her blush a little. Well, whatever. She didn’t need Karen’s approval. It was nice to have it anyway, though.
        “Gosh, really?” Sammy said. Samantha turned to him, surprised. From anyone else, it might’ve sounded sarcastic, but the little boy’s eyes were wide and shimmering as if he might cry. “You’re. . .you’re letting me have your name, too?” Sammy ran forward, cane forgotten, and Samantha oofed as he barrelled into her middle and hugged the air out of her. She blushed even more and hugged him awkwardly. Then, after a moment, she sighed and hugged him tighter. Maybe having a little brother wouldn’t be all bad.
        “Sammy, Samantha, Samuel, Sassafras, don’t expect me to notice the difference. You’re Scout and Spook as far as I’m concerned,” Daddy said, rumbling with laughter. So Daddy already had a pet name for Sammy. Good. It was impossible to be a Keating without one!
        “Well, in any case, it looks like we’ve gotten everything finally squared away, so this will be your first night in your new home, Sammy! Congratulations!”
        Sammy pulled away from Samantha’s midsection and before she could say anything, he ran right over to Mommy and Daddy to throw his arms around them. Daddy scooped him up in his arms though, that way that made you feel like you were the tiniest, lightest thing in the world and Daddy could throw you to the clouds if you wanted him to and still be able to catch you. Samantha couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the way the boy squealed with laughter. Sammy grabbed Daddy around the neck and hugged him tightly.
        “Thank you, Bill,” the boy said.
        “It’s Dad now, Scout. And you should thank your mother. This was all her idea.”
        Sammy squeaked softly in surprise and turned to look at Mommy, incredulous. Samantha could scarcely believe how openly her mother was crying as Sammy threw his arms around her and gave her the same fierce hug. Mommy rarely ever cried. Everyone knew that while Daddy might be huge and imposing, Mommy was the one to really be frightened of. Well, everyone knew except for any boy- or girl- friends that might be brought home. Daddy did an excellent job of scaring them.
        Samantha heard the door close and saw that the two strangers had quietly let themselves out. Sammy’s small bag of possessions lay by the door, though he had very few. Mommy had insisted on almost all of his ‘new’ handed-down clothes being left with the group home. All he really had was a picture of his mother in a cracked frame, a blanket that never stopped smelling despite being washed by Mommy and the people from the group home, a worn baseball that was near tatters, and a pretend but heavy policeman’s badge that had been given to him by the officer who’d nearly arrested Daddy. Seeing the boy’s whole life stacked in a neat little pile like that and thinking of the giant pile of stuffed animals that towered in one corner of her room, Samantha felt the last little bit of her resentment melt away. She had a good family. It would be wrong not to share it with this boy who needed one so badly.
        Rachel jumped down from where she’d perched on the back of the couch and ran across to hug Mommy tightly around her legs. Samantha smiled and crossed the room to join her, squeezing Rachel to her side and pressing her face into Mommy’s midsection. Karen wasn’t far behind, wrapping both arms around the three of them, though Sammy was held up in Mommy’s arms, out of reach. Finally, as he always did, Daddy came last, enveloping all four--no, five now--of them in his giant arms.
        After a moment, as he always did, Daddy began squeezing. And squeezing and squeezing until, laughing and gasping for breath, someone cried out for mercy and the family hug dissolved into laughter and bickering over who held out the longest. Sammy still clung to Mommy, watching the whole thing in smiling, shy silence until Karen jokingly accused him of giving up first and he joined in the good natured bickering, bragging of not complaining at all, which of course made Karen and Rachel both protest loudly.
        “Alright, alright, settle down all four of you!” Mommy cried out, laughing. “If you don’t settle down, it’ll get too late and we won’t have any time left.”
        “Time for what?” Karen asked suspiciously.
        “Well, it’s a big day,” Daddy joined in. “We should celebrate, and I’m not going to make your mother slave away in the kitchen when she has every right to celebrate and relax along with us, so I thought we’d go out to eat.”
        “Like, to a restaurant?” Sammy asked in a quiet voice as Mommy set him down. The boy’s eyes were the biggest Samantha had ever seen them get, which was saying quite a bit.
        Mommy chuckled knowingly and patted Sammy’s head. “Yes, to a restaurant. And before anyone starts arguing it’s my turn to pick.”
        Samantha pursed her lips, frowning. “Mom, it’s not even four yet. We’ve got plenty of time to go out to eat.”
        “Plenty of time for dinner, sure, but we don’t want to have to cut our time at the mall short do we?”
        Karen groaned but Samantha gasped, clapping her hands. “THE MALL? Oh my god, we get to get you ALL NEW CLOTHES!” She squealed with delight and grabbed Sammy under the arms and spun him. He yelped and she laughed. Having a little brother was getting better and better.
        “New clothes? Like, new new?”
        “Yes, new new!” Samantha squealed before Mommy could answer. “And he’ll need a suit for Sunday, won’t he mom? And I guess I can’t put him all in pink, but that’s okay. Can I get him some pink? Like even a little? Well, boy clothes aren’t nearly as fun or as pink as girl clothes but this is still going to be awesome!”
        Her family laughed and she didn’t even blush. The prospect of getting to pick her new brother’s whole wardrobe dwarfed any thoughts of resentment or embarrassment she might have. Just like that, Sammy was no longer someone to be embarrassed or shy around, no longer someone she had to hide from when he was in their house. He was her brother now. Plus, he was going to be the best dressed little boy in his grade, if she had anything to say about it.
