Elfhome

He checked the classroom at the top of the stairs first. It was disappointingly cluttered. Apparently Team Tinker hadn’t finished cleaning the third floor. He started to turn away when he recognized the smell of burnt popcorn. He turned back and panned the flashlight over the room. His microwave sat on its stand just inside the door. Beyond it was his overstuffed recliner and his nightstand.

It wasn’t litter in the classroom — it was the furniture from his condo! Someone had moved him lock, stock and barrel. There were little towers of cans from his pantry, stacks of his ancient DVDs and CDs and Blue Ray disks, and heaps of clothes still on hangers from his closet. Everything he owned had been carried up and dropped at the first clear place on the floor. His belongings created island chains in the moonlight. His mattress canted against the far wall beside the windows.

“Sama?” Cattail Reeds came down the hall, carrying an spell light in one hand and a basket in the other. “Forgiveness, I didn’t have time to fix up your room.”

“Cattail! Where are the others?”

“Everyone else is asleep.” She yawned, waving the spell light back down the hallway toward the other classrooms.

“Did someone bring your beds?” He hated calling them beds, as they were just mattresses and sheets.

“Tinker ze domi had them brought from the small place.” Cattail had whiskers drawn on her face. He hadn’t seen any of the kids in the gym beyond Merry, but Tinker obviously found them. “She brought food too.”

It was intimidating how much Tinker could get done while acting silly. She had fed his kids and made sure they had someplace to sleep. “Oh, good. How clean are your rooms?”

“That is why we didn’t get your room straightened out.” She touched the whiskers on her face. “The Wind Clan was helping us clean our rooms. Ze domi made sure they were very kind to us. She said that we should think of ourselves as Pittsburghers first, not Wind Clan or Stone Clan.”

Oilcan had forgotten to ask Tinker about the true motive behind the whiskers. By Cattail’s tone, the concept of “one people” obviously puzzled her, despite having benefitted from it. Sooner or later, he needed to talk to the kids about being sponsored by the Wind Clan or going on alone as Stone Clan. Not now, though; not in the middle of the night when they’re both dead on their feet.

“We saved this for you.” Cattail held up the basket that smelled of something warm and savory.

“Thank you.” He accepted it with guilt twisting in his stomach. He should have been the one making sure that the kids had food, not the other way around.

“Do you need help righting your room?” Cattail asked.

“No, go to bed. I’m going to eat and then go to sleep. We can do it tomorrow.”

He thought about the day as he cleared space for his mattress. The kids had amazed him with their strength. Just hours after being rescued from horrible torture, they had knitted themselves into a family, taking care of each other and working toward a better future. He knew it was in part, though, because they thought they had found a safe haven.

He could remember after his mother had died. It was months before his grandfather knew what happened and could come get him. He was shuffled between foster homes, not knowing what was going to happen to him. By the time he reached Pittsburgh, he was a fearful mess. Only after Tinker had convinced him that she wouldn’t let anyone take him away could he get through the night without crying. Whatever courage he had during the day drained away with the light.

The kids wouldn’t be doing so well if they realized how tentative their situation really was. He flipped down his mattress and sprawled onto it. The biggest problem was he knew how tentative it was. It wasn’t even that he was human, but that he was only one person. He was anchor rider for Team Tinker and both he and Tinker had been lucky not to be hurt in the smash ups that occurred at the races. The city was at war and the oni could attack any place, any time. One stray bullet and where would the kids be?

#

A hand on his shoulder woke him.

Oilcan opened his eyes to darkness, unsure of where he was. Moonlight streamed through too large of a window. The bed felt too low but definitely wasn’t one of his friends’ couch.

“You left all the doors unlocked,” Thorne Scratch’s rough voice came out of the dark.

“Um, okay.” He sat up in bed, remembering then he’d moved into the school down the street from the enclaves. Worried about the kids, he hadn’t thought about locking down for the night. “I’ll lock them.”

“I already have.” She sat on his couch to pull off her boots. He was still sleep clouded enough that he didn’t realize what she intended until she stood and slid down her leather pants.

She was staying the night.