When Letha and Hadrian left the house, it was just after 7:30. It was a cold morning, a thin layer of mist clinging to their jackets as they strode towards town. They walked in silence, neither comfortable nor awkward, and slipped into Bill’s fifteen minutes later. Bill’s Place was the favourite café of truckies, teenagers, and nearly everybody else in town. No one knew if there actually was or had ever been a ‘Bill’, but the owner, Mrs Nancy Cordell, was probably a better hostess than any Bill who ever lived.

Mrs Cordell was a plump brunette with kind green eyes and a bright smile. Mr Cordell was principle of the local high school, and could often be found buried in his office from when Bill’s opened at dawn, until it shut at 8. His name was Harry, not Bill.

Brother and sister slid into their usual booth, the farthest from the counter and most immersed in shadow. As they waited for their waitress, Letha ran her hands over the rough weave. For nearly every breakfast in the last year, Letha and Hadrian had practical thrown themselves from the house and into this booth. The girl who usually served them, Sarah Cordell, eldest daughter of the Cordell’s, drifted over. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and as she called a response to the last table she’d been at, generating lots of laughs, Sarah pulled her notepad from her apron.

“Hey Letha, hi Hadrian,” she said cheerfully, leaning against their booth, “Can I get you guys the usual?”

Sarah was, in Letha’s opinion, one of those annoying, genuinely popular people, who apparently didn’t display or notice animosity. Hadrian thought she was a goddess.

“Yes please, Sarah,” he chirped, grinning broadly at her.

She returned his smile, “Pancakes and syrup for you, Hadrian, with an orange juice…”

Hadrian nodded contentedly. Letha always had to resist the urge to tell him that Sarah probably knew the orders of lots of people, not just his. But the boy needed something to believe in, even if it was Sarah Cordell.

“…and a ham, cheese and tomato omelette with a green tea, Letha?”

Letha met her gaze and nodded, smiling politely for Hadrian’s sake. Sarah’s brow furrowed slightly and she squinted, her eyes resting on Letha’s cheek bone. Letha turned the injured side of her face from the waitress, scratching her neck as if unaware of the girl’s survey. Sarah recovered quickly and left them with a small smile at Hadrian.

Letting out a soft groan, Letha slipped further into her chair. She and Hadrian stared each other down until their food came. Neither of them was fond of small talk, and anything of importance was rarely said between them. Instead, they shared their lives always about to speak, but never inclined to. When the food did arrive, Letha had her cheek nestled in her hand, elbow on the table, prepared for being looked at. Sarah put their food down, but didn’t leave instantly, fidgeting around for a second. She glanced over her shoulder at her mother, who was nestled behind the counter pouring salt into shakers.

“Letha,” the girl said hesitantly, touching her shoulder. Letha looked up in surprise, her hand carefully in place against her face. It wasn’t often people directly spoke to Hadrian or herself beyond common courtesy; even Sarah Cordell.

As it was, the girl looked extremely embarrassed as she withdrew her hand, “Would you like an icepack for that?” Letha froze as Sarah gestured toward her face. She grated out a laugh.

“oh, this?” her hand moved aside quickly, but was cupping her face again soon, “eyeliner slip.”

Hadrian nodded empathetically, not lending her story any credence. He seemed to realise his mistake as Sarah’s eyes flickered to his serious expression. He forced a choked laugh.

Letha didn’t need to force the words, “Shut up, Hadrian.”

Sarah’s expression was neutral, but her eyes reflected her disbelief. She herself was wearing a heavy layer of eyeliner.

Desperate for her to leave, Letha said, “Thanks, though.”

Sarah left, meeting her mother at the counter to whisper something. She only looked over her shoulder once. Tugging nervously at the gloves that hid her bandages, Letha picked up her mug of tea. Though their school uniform didn’t strictly allow gloves, she hoped the cold weather would have many doing the same. Just in case, Letha had concocted an explanation that involved gripping a curling iron instead of a towel rack, and previous nerve damage. To any sane person, it wasn’t convincing, and it definitely wouldn’t hold up against girls who understood the difference between natural curls and curled-curls. Through all her prior lies, Letha was already regarded by such girls as an unfortunate in need of makeup lessons.

Devouring their breakfast as usual, routine was broken only by glares at Hadrian from Letha and wistful looks from Hadrian to Sarah. They finished and called their waitress. Sarah slipped back over, pulling their order from her notebook. She pressed it to the table in front of Letha.

“Take that to Mum at the register, and have a nice day.” She smiled at Hadrian, but didn’t move away to let them out. She turned her smile to Letha, “I’ll see you in maths, Letha.”

Unsure how to reply, it was a hasty kick under the table from her brother that coughed up the words.

“Sure. Thanks for breakfast.” Her smile was hardly genuine, but it fooled Sarah. She grinned and flounced off, both brother and sister watching her go. Hadrian was smiling dreamily still, when Letha pulled him to his feet. They paid at the register, where Mrs Cordell’s quite obviously avoided looking at Letha’s cheekbone. She wished the pair a nice day, and her eyes followed them out the glass doors.

Halfway out the door, Letha gripped her brother’s elbow and steered him around the sandwich-board. When they were a few buildings down the street, outside a still-closed bank, Letha glared at her brother.

“That,” she growled, “was way to close.”

Hadrian looked longingly back at Bill’s. “But Sarah is nice,” he protested.

Letha grew very still. “Do you like it here, Hadrian?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to stay here?”

Hadrian knew where this was going, “Yes.”

Letha flourished her hands, nearly hitting him in the face, “Then people can’t know. Last time Father…” Letha broke off; Hadrian was there. He had paled considerably, but licked his lips and continued.

“But it’s lonely.” Hadrian coughed, trying to sound manlier, but the whine had twisted Letha’s gut again. He was only thirteen.

“I know, Hadrian. I’m far from fun, and I’m all you’ve got.” Resolved to smile, Letha’s grimace didn’t qualify. “Make some friends during the rest of this year. Actual friends. I’ll cover with Father.”

Hadrian shook his head, but Letha smiled softly and cut him off, “If I could do one thing, Hadrian, I’d get you out of this. I’d send you away to somewhere he could never find you, somewhere you’d be happy and safe and loved forever.” Letha blinked and took a deep, final breath, “So take a stab at happiness and I’ll be happier too. Please.”

Hadrian took her hand and squeezed it softly. It stung, but Letha was careful not to let it show on her face.

“Last month,” Hadrian said softly as they began to walk again, “these guys were talking to me about going bowling with a whole ton of them, sometime during the holidays, I said I was busy, but…”

Letha listened to her little brother ramble on, mentioning names and places and games she’d never heard of. She nodded, and asked questions when he took a breath, but all she remembered was the sound of his happiness, something she had rarely heard over the last thirteen years.

Rounding the corner, the schoolyard was visible at the end of the street before it turned left. It was cut off from the road by a waist-high chain-link fence. A jacaranda tree, without its purple blooms, towered by the entrance, looking down at the street from all of 6 metres. The sporting grounds were to one side, the road and several small shops the other. Letha had heard a particular lolly shop praised quite highly, though she had ever entered.

She and Hadrian trudged in through the gate, separating without a word. Hadrian went to find his new friends, and Letha ducked to the unpopulated side of the tree and threw her bag up. Wedging her jogger in the trunk, she pulled herself up, nestling in a branch out of view. Here she could watch the high school without being a part of it.

Her feet dangling over the limb, Letha rubbed her gloved hands together gently, feeling the cold more with her back against the icy wood. Watching the kids running around, scurrying to and fro like ants, Letha felt a patch of warmth in the side of her neck. Her head flicked quickly, nearly throwing her out of the tree, but her eyes ate hungrily at the people until she found what she was looking for.

Two boys stood off to the side, leaning towards each other and deep in conversation. The one closest to Letha, was tall and thin, the back of his head covered in blonde curls and blocking the other. They weren’t in a perfect line though, and Letha caught a hint of tanned skin and a silver watch. Disappointed, Letha’s shoulders drooped; new kids.

Just as she turned back, the boy with the blonde hair stepped to the side, following the arm of his friend. The boy with the watch was shorter, with dark hair instead of light. The uniform agreed with him, the plain white shirt bringing out his chocolaty tones, and his arm was raised and pointing at her. Letha’s eye narrowed, annoyed at being caught staring. The boy changed his hand from a point to a wave. Letha turned away with a snort. Whoever they were, at least one of them was cocky, and Letha had seen a few of the girls making a beeline for the pair.

Glancing back to check if she’d been right, Letha grinned when she saw three of the more infamously pretty girls crowding in on the two boys, their shirts buttoned up alarmingly low. The blonde had the sense to look uncomfortable. The boy with the watch just smiled, chatting energetically. Two of the girls pointed to one of the building, giving each other annoyed ‘shot-gun’ looks. That was when the boy looked up, meeting Letha’s eye again. He nodded slightly, and Letha was unable to resist; she gave him the finger.