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▇ Ever has to own up to some petty thefts.

Little League season always came too soon. When other children were just about vibrating with the excitement of the oncoming summer, freedom from daily classes, the potential of sunshine and adventures at the pool, potential vacations far from home, Ever would look out the window of and get a bitter taste in his mouth.

At ten years old, unlike brothers who excelled in the physical and leapt at the chance of a little competition, Ever was undersized and weird, unsettlingly quiet and serious for a child. In sharp contrast to his siblings, he went through morning lessons in a slow and methodical way, lingering in the kitchen to help with dishes and cooking instead of trailing them into the backyard for their own brand of chores. Banished to the back porch, he was more inclined to curl around whatever book he was reading than leap up and find his glove, more likely to duck than catch.

Little league, though, was the worst of it. Shadowed by family who had always been the lead hitters, who'd thrown themselves into baseball with talent and a competitive spirit that Ever just did not have, every game was a torturous experience. Pale, undersized, frail, and decidedly odd, he just wasn't built for the game, nor for the social experience that went along with it. Ever didn't blend into the physicality of the game, something which lead to red-faced lectures at the end of a session.

"…flowers?" His father's voice held a thick edge of French accent, even after two decades spent in the states. It would never go away, but Ever was used to the dip and the fall of it. The man was powerful, broad across the shoulders, darkly-tanned in a way that made Ever fidget and wriggle, dropping the lingering pale yellow petals from his fingers to flutter down toward the ground.

"This is not how we play the game." Not shouting but loud, furious for some reason that Ever wouldn't understand for the better part of a decade. The barely-restrained violence in the man bubbled over into a solid smack upside the head when Ever opened his mouth to argue, something he was learning to do less and less. He'd grow wiser over time, instead of disagreeing with his father just smiling and nodding and then doing as he pleased anyway when the man wasn't looking. And alway, always getting caught, in the end.

"You will focus. You will care. You well spend time with the other boys." Large fingers snapped in front of his eyes to draw in his attention, and Ever stared, flushed and pale at the same time, up at his father. The other boys, those from their church and one a mile down the road, could witness this from across the park, could see the wince and could likely catch the drift of Julian's words on the faint summer breezes, getting hotter and hotter as they went deeper into the summer.

"And you will not hide in les jupes de sa maman." And the other boys, sensing weakness, would treat him to much of the same. They were too young, at ten, to use some of the hateful words that would crop up on a baffled young man two, three years later. They were still too naive to be truly cruel. Ever's eyes strayed to take them in, and he was treated to another thwap, just hard enough to sting.

"Tu comprends-moi, garçon?" His father had dark eyes like him. Ever looked up into them and nodded blankly. Weakness was giving up power, and he gave it up well.

▇ Zac caves into buying dinner, but potentially with ulterior motives.

▇ Ainsley catches Ever slacking off some at work.

His sister wanted to be a doctor.

Renee had been a plucky eleven-no-almost-twelve when Ever had gone away to Sovereign heights, a baby-faced girl just starting to come into a shape that was, unfortunately, more her heavy father than her willowy mother. She'd been working on the most recent Redwall book -- the one he'd finished just a week before, and then passed on -- and he remembered sprawling with her and discussing the story in a teasing way, dangling spoilers and plot twists and turns before her nose and watching her squirm.

She had ambition. She always had, even if it hadn't always been the same. As a very young girl who'd had Nancy Drew read to her, she had been certain that her future would be caught up in mysteries and detective work, solving the problems of their local neighbors, and had even invested in a proper spy kit. As a child who wanted to be a veterinarian, she had actually interviewed a local animal doctor about what his job entailed, and had solemnly come home to tell her parents that she thought she could do it, even when it came time to put the beasts down.

At almost-twelve she had quieted some, and her focus had been school work, but Ever -- his greatest ambition grounded solely in unknotting the pit of uncertainty and self-doubt that formed his core, the sense that there was something wrong with him -- had been able to read determination in her future. During his first semester at school, they had exchanged regular letters to talk about what he was working on, what he was learning, and the same of her. He remembered not writing down about Amory or his self-exploration, about the acceptance of the gay-straight alliance, yes, but he remembered more firmly the things she had talked about.

She loved biology. She loved animals. She loved people. She wanted to help. She was reading about the salvation army. She hoped to follow him out and perhaps, some day, move through one school and onto the next. Med school was as far as she thought, but Ever reflected that by now she had probably worked out more of what that entailed: years and years of schooling, residency, time away from home, areas of expertise, long hours that kept her from the simple family life she'd been taught to want. That was assuming, of course, that his parents ever let her out of the house.

His sister wanted to be a doctor. For some reason, as he crept through the crowd of people, picking out those who were too drunk too focus, loners who no one would think of twice when they went missing for a while, that was the thought that kept running through his head. Renee had ambition, he considered, as he sidled up next to someone in an alley to bum a cigarette plus a blossoming pearl of energy. She wanted to help people, he reflected, staring down at the slumped form, a drunken a*****e who likely no one would think to come looking for until closing time, when they took out the trash.

He wished her luck as he headed home.

▇ Ever is expecting Zinkenite, but finds Zac instead. Oh, wait, no, nevermind.

▇ Nega party at an arcade! Schee's plan.