The bus ride back to Barnstable was quiet. Gabriel sat beside me, not saying much, just drumming his fingers absently on his guitar case. It wasn’t until we stepped off at his stop that he finally spoke.
“You wanna come over for a bit?” he asked. “It’s… not much, but I’ve got some stuff I wanna talk to you about.”
The way he said it made it sound less like an invitation and more like a challenge. I thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “Sure. Lead the way.”
We cut down a side road, then into a quiet neighborhood lined with tall pines. His house was set back from the street — a two-story Cape Cod style with gray shingles, white trim, and a wide front porch. It looked lived-in, comfortable, with the faint scent of woodsmoke drifting from the chimney.
His grandmother greeted us at the door, warm smile and kind eyes. “Oh, hello there! You must be Thane. Come on in, sweetheart.” She waved us through to the kitchen, where the smell of something baking hung in the air.
As we passed through the dining room, Gabriel’s grandfather gave a small wave from his recliner, a Red Sox game murmuring on the TV.
Out back, beyond the sliding glass doors, I could see the porch — bare, except for a few empty feeders swaying slightly in the breeze.
Gabriel’s grandmother frowned. “That’s odd. The blue jays were out here all morning. Squirrels too.”
“Maybe they’re napping,” Gabriel said lightly, though I caught the faint, curious glance he sent my way.
His dad came in then — tall, bearded, and carrying a bass guitar in one hand like it was an extension of himself. “Hey, son,” he said warmly, ruffling Gabriel’s hair before turning to me. “You must be Thane. I’m Jim. Welcome.”
“Thanks,” I said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, but not testing — the kind of handshake from a man who’s confident without needing to prove it.
We went upstairs to Gabriel’s room, which he shared with his younger brother Nathan. Nathan was perched on the lower bunk, messing with his phone, his expression already carrying that bored, almost mocking teenage look.
“Who’s this?” Nathan asked without looking up from the screen.
“A friend,” Gabriel said flatly.
Nathan smirked faintly and muttered something under his breath that I didn’t catch. He stayed there for a couple minutes, scrolling and chuckling to himself, before finally standing up and leaving the room without a word.
The moment his footsteps faded down the hall, Gabriel leaned over and shut the door. When he turned back, his eyes were locked on me — steady, unblinking.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “We’re alone. So… what are you?”
I froze for a fraction of a second. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. “The pencil. The milk carton. The way people move out of your way in the hallway without knowing why. That… thing you do when someone gets too close.”
I leaned back against the wall, folding my arms. “You’ve been thinking about this a lot.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Because none of it’s normal. And I’m not an idiot, Thane.”
Something about the intensity in his voice made me shift in my seat — uncomfortable, which was rare for me. “Maybe I’m just… different.”
“Yeah,” he said again, softer this time. “You are.” He paused. “So am I. I just don’t know why yet.”
For a long moment, we just stared at each other. Then I looked away, breaking the contact. “It’s complicated.”
He sat back slowly, as if accepting that was all he’d get — for now. But I could tell he wasn’t done asking. Not by a long shot.