2. The Rules

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"No swearing in the house."

I pause on the top stair and listen to Catherine's voice coming from the guest room—the one across the corridor from mine.

"It comes without saying, but no drugs or alcohol in the house—or outside of it, for that matter," she says. "Don't take your food upstairs, please. We've had problems with mice before, and I wouldn't want that to return."

I make a few steps on the worn out blue carpet, stop in front of the open door and glance inside. Catherine is smoothing wrinkles on the bed cover, while Raven stands with his back to me, his bag on the floor at his feet.

"Also, no sleepovers," she says.

"Too bad," he says. "I like sleepovers."

She leaves the bed alone and straightens up, giving him a hesitant look. "See, Raven...since I'm responsible for you now, I can't allow any kind of promiscuous behavior, particularly given your...well... history. Hence, no sleepovers." She notices me. "Jamie, come in." She looks at him again. "Truth be told, I think at your age you guys should care more about your exams than about hanging out with friends and girlfriends."

"How about boyfriends?" he says.

The look of uneasiness on her face deepens. "Yeah, I was told about your... preferences. It's none of my business, but while in my care and in my house, you're not allowed to have, well --"

"Sex," he prompts.

"Right." She clears her throat and looks around, clearly eager to change the subject. "Do you have any pajamas?"

He shrugs. "No. I sleep in my underwear."

"That won't do, dear...what if you need to leave your room to use a bathroom? I'll bring you some clean pajamas." She walks around the bed and past me to the door, looking way too eager to leave the room.

Once she's gone, Raven turns to me.

"So, Jamie," he says. "The safe haven comes with rules?"

"Don't call me that."

"She's called you that."

"She's my mother. To you, I'm James."

He tilts his head to one side, examining me with an amused expression. "So, James...no sex in the house? How do you deal with that?"

"It's not a hard rule to follow."

"If you have nobody to fuck, sure."

"Don't swear."

"She doesn't hear."

"It doesn't matter," I say, my annoyance rising. "She's taken you in. You can at least thank her by obeying her rules."

"Do you obey them?"

"Always," I say.

He snorts, but before he can say anything, Catherine walks back in, carrying a folded set of white pajamas with a strawberry print. I remember those—she has gotten them for me last year, but, luckily, they were too small to fit. Raven stares at them with a shocked expression I can relate to, but given that he's shorter and thinner than me, he's unlikely to be able to dodge this bullet.

"Here, take these," Catherine says.

"I'll just put my pants on if I need to leave the room." He makes no move to take the pajamas, so she walks over and puts them on his bed.

"Don't be silly, it's a pleasure to sleep in them. They're so soft."

"I'm not too fond of strawberries," he says.

"It's not like you need to eat them. Anyway, I'll just leave it here. You can decide later."

He bows his head. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome." She comes over and pats him on the arm. "Also, you need to pick a chore. We all do things to keep this house clean and cozy. Would you prefer to vacuum once a day, or do the dishes twice a day?"

He shrugs. "Dishes are fine. I can also cook."

"Oh, there's no need in that." She smiles. "You know, I've been told you're rude and all, but so far, you're a sweetheart."

His lips curve into a smile, but there's no real humor or warmth in it. "I'm trying."

She nods. "I have arranged for you to start going to the new school. It's Jamie's school, so he could show you around. It's a fifteen minutes walk, but you can catch a ride with him."

"I'll walk," he says.

"As you wish." She nods. "I heard you have switched a few schools in your life."

"Seven. One for each foster family."

She raises an eyebrow.

"So many schools?" she says, just as I'm thinking So many families?

He shrugs. "I'm a bit of a rolling stone, I guess."

"It must have been so stressful," she says. "But it doesn't have to continue that way." She takes him by the hand. "If you do your part and, well...behave, then you could stay here for a while, and make new friends, and, well...grow some roots, you know? The past remains in the past. This is your chance to start a new page."

"Thank you, ma'am." He squeezes her fingers lightly and then lets go of her hand. "I appreciate that." He glances at me, and behind his thin veil of seriousness, I can see the mockery, and I can bet all the money I have that he doesn't mean a word of what he's saying.


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