Saturday was busy, but this whole week had been. Julian didn't feel like he'd stopped moving for weeks now, but it had been something to do with the nervous energy that otherwise just kept building. He felt like static. Or, like a television channel scanning for a station that wasn't transmitting loud enough to come through.

In the between-state of one place and the next, he felt like an echo from a silent scream. An after-image without the original having ever made an appearance. A shape still trying to figure out what form it was supposed to take.

How strange, to be a person.

Julian wondered if his body had always been this loud. Had he only just recently learned how to listen? Or had it only just learned how to speak?

They weren't very good at communicating.

All he knew was that this anxious energy fluctuated too often to ignore.

It didn't always have a trigger, but today would have been a good day to explain it away.

He'd spent the morning with Cyril, jumping through hoops to try and present himself as a competent and eager Knight. It hadn't started off well but it hadn't ended poorly. By the end of their talk, he couldn't really even remember the friction. He was tired, but it didn't take much to wear Julian out. His wrist was a little sore from taking notes, but that was the worst of it. He'd written in a haze, determined to make sure he didn't have to ask Cyril to repeat himself.

He had a lot to learn still, but he was trying–and Cyril was giving him a chance.

He'd have liked to stay to talk for longer–although, he had worried that he already overstayed his welcome–but he had plans today.

Unmovable plans.

Julian didn't often see his caseworker on the weekend, but he'd been busy with finals, and the holidays were next week. Saturday was really the only day that worked. She would be here at three.

He was back by two. He'd rushed home, even though it wasn't really necessary. He just had a ritual. It hadn't been as important at the other homes, but he hadn't wanted to stay there as much as he wanted to stay here.

It started with a quick shower and fresh clothes. He spent a little extra time grooming himself–brushed hair, brushed teeth, picking off lint, smoothing out wrinkles. He needed to look perfect. She needed to see how motivated he was, how well he could take care of himself, how much access he had. She couldn't think he was left without necessities.

Then, he got a light snack. He didn't want his stomach to growl. She couldn't think they were starving him.

He cleaned up his room, but it was already spotless. He cleaned up the kitchen, the living room. Mostly, it was just Maxim's toys. But there couldn't be trash, or old food, or anything dangerous. She couldn't think that this was an unsafe environment.

There were others in the house today, but they knew the ritual. Julian preferred to speak with her in an open space, but without an audience. The living room felt comfortable. He turned on the television, so she'd remember that he was allowed to exist here. The nature channel was safe–not too childish, so she wouldn't think he wasn't developing. Nothing too mature, so she wouldn't think he wasn't being parented, or assume that he thought himself an adult already.

A documentary about an octopus was fine. Even Maxim moved his head to the armrest so he could watch.

Julian's shoes were neatly organized by the door. He sat in the living room with his folder, and reviewed the notecards he'd made for himself after last meeting.

A quick refresher, so he could remember what she knew, and remind himself what he needed to go over.

He forced himself to go slow, reading over each line. He wrote short notes for himself.

This wasn't a test, but he was being graded, anyway. Maybe not in numbers, but in values. If he failed, she could file papers to get him removed from the home.

Every visit, he worried that today was the day she decided he needed to go somewhere else.

Julian knew she had arrived at the same time Maxim did. It was as if he'd felt the car coming down the road as soon as she'd turned onto their street. He looked at he window. Maxim looked at the window.

She pulled into the driveway.

Julian waited on the couch, pretending like he wasn't counting down the number of steps before she reached the door.

He was five off. She rang the doorbell.

He leaped to his feet, smoothed out his pants–put his notecard away and straightened the folder on the desk–and then hurried to the front door. He answered it with a smile.

Maxim didn't even get off the couch.

"Hello, Ms. Terry," he greeted, and stepped aside so she could let herself in.

"Good afternoon, Julian," she said pleasantly.

She was taller than him, but not by much, and had a kind, round face. Her curly brown hair framed wasn't tied back today, probably because of the cold. She dressed professionally and took great care to look like she was still in her twenties.

She pressed her folder to her chest as she stepped in, exhaling immediately at the comfortable warmth. "It's so cold out there today. Have you had to go out in that?"

"Oh, just for a few minutes. Maxim and I went out. But it was so cold, he didn't even want to do his walk."

"I don't blame him. Tonight's going to be so chilly."

Julian's hands shook, not from cold, and he closed up. He didn't lock the front door but turned to face her with a quick, forced smile. "Yeah," he agreed.

Terry glanced around, eyeing the well-decorated house. "Oh, it's beautiful. Did you help with any of this?"

"Some," he answered, moving past her and into the living room. "Um, mostly I was just moral support. Talia did most of it. She's really good at it."

"She is," Terry agreed. "Is she here today?"

"Yes, Ma'am. And Zac is, too. I can go get them if you want."

"Not yet. We can talk for a few minutes first. Are you ready?"

"Um, yes. I don't have a lot to say," Julian said, hurrying to his seat on the couch. He sat down again, in front of his shoulder. Maxim adjusted himself to lay a bit closer.

Terry took her seat in the chair across from him. "You two are still getting along?"

"Yes," Julian answered quickly, placing a hand on Maxim's back to pet gently. Without much thought, he pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the dog, who wagged lazily. "I'm getting along with everyone," he assured.

She smiled. The folder was flat in her lap, but she withdrew a clipboard with a few blank pages. "Oh, good. How are your friends doing?"

"Very well. We're going to hang out during break. They might come over here. Or I might go over there. We don't know yet. But we're planning it." He cleared his throat and placed his palms flat on his knees. He was talking too quick. Too erratic. He breathed, slowly, and smiled again. "Sorry. I'm excited."

Terry liked that answer. Her brows softened a bit and her shoulders relaxed. She wrote down a few words while making eye contact. The pen wasn't pressed too firmly against the paper. She was happy with his answer. "That sounds fun."

Julian sat upright, perfectly poised. A little stiff, but that was the price of good manners. His heart was pounding in his chest but he wasn't even sure why right now. These weren't even the hard questions.

"You had finals this week," she said, and when he nodded, she continued, "How did that go?"

"Okay. I studied a lot. I don't know if I did a good job. But I did my best. I, um. I had to–well, I didn't have to, but–well–" No, he was messing up. Talking too quickly. He needed to finish a sentence. She was going to think he was lying. Julian held his breath for a second and curled his fingers around his knees. "I haven't been using my accommodations." Better she heard it from him than the school. "Or, I wasn't. But I'm trying to be better about that. I did ask for them this week. Um. So that helped. But we won't get grades back until we go back. But I feel like I did okay."

"Okay, good," She said. She wrote something down. Light strokes, short words. Still not angry. Julian tried not to stare at the page but it was hard to watch her face when her head was bowed and her focus elsewhere.

She looked up before he could so she caught him watching her. His face felt warm and he quickly averted his gaze to the television. No, now she was going to think he was snooping. Or ignoring her. Or lying.

"You were sick the last time I was here."

"I was. But I got better."

"Did you have to go to the doctor?"

"No," Julian said quickly, drawing back to her. "No, Ma'am," he corrected, calmer. "I wasn't that sick. I wanted to go to school."

"Oh? Did you stay home?"

"Yes. Um, Talia and Zac both said it was okay. I mean, they told me I should. It was just a lot of coughing. I would have been disruptive. But I don't even think I had a fever. I was just tired. That's mostly how it goes, I just rest for a while, and then I bounce back. But, um. It's not bad. It never lasts for long. I think it's just a cold or something. They're very good about checking in with me. They take good care of me."

"Oh, that's good." She smiled and looked down at the paper as she wrote. It was quiet while she scribbled.

She wrote a lot this time. Julian swallowed and dug his fingers into his knees again, perfectly still. Maxim wriggled closer, pressing his nose against Julian's leg as he stared up at him.

Julian wanted to pet him but when he tried, his hand simply wouldn't move.

"So things are going okay?" she asked, not looking up.

"Yes, very good," Julian answered quickly. She didn't glance up so he kept talking. "It's nice here. I really like it. I've got everything I need. And it's comfortable. And if I need help, I know I can ask."

She nodded. He could see a smile. That was a good answer but he didn't relax.

"The holidays can be hard. How are you holding up?"

"Um, really well, actually." He sat up straight but leaned forward a little. "I actually did, um, a craft fair. Kind of. I mean, I didn't really go, but one of my friends–well, a friend of a friend–he does them. We met at the police station when I–oh, sorry. Sorry, I have to–I should start at the beginning. Nothing bad happened," he insisted when her eyes raised to meet his. He talked twice as fast. "I found–found a wallet. I went to turn it in. His brother's a police officer, he was dropping off lunch. But I–he's friends with Atticus. Um–sorry, I think–I was getting pipe cleaners. I was–I've been making things with them. Um, we got to talking, I was just–I made them while I was studying, I said he could have them. Um, so he was able to–I guess he sold most of them? He makes candles. Um–well, he gave me, or–well, he paid me, I mean. It was–he said he'd donate the money, um, which I was going to let him–I wanted him to–but then, um. Well, you know. I–I did accept it. I bought a few more things, for, um–well, you know."

She sat there with a very neutral smile. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but she kept writing.

"Are you okay, Julian? You seem a little nervous."

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry," he said, digging his fingernails into his knees. But, he knew she'd see that. He had to fight his hands to unclench them. "I'm really jittery. I'm not sure why. But I promise, everything is good. It's actually really good. I was excited for you to come by today. Maybe, um–actually, can–would you like some hot chocolate?"

She watched him for a moment. He expected a no. Instead, she just smiled. "That sounds nice, I'd like that. Do you want to make it yourself or do you want company?"

"You can come," Julian said. He wanted to stand but found that his legs wouldn't work until after she pushed herself up. Maxim looked after him but didn't follow as Julian picked up his folder, holding it close to his chest, and walked around the couch. "Um, sorry. I might be wound up from finals still."

"That's okay. Are you planning on doing something to wind down while you're on break?"

"Yes, um. Well, sleeping I mean. I've got a few books I want to read. Probably some more baking with Talia. I'm going to hang out with my friends, too. Oh–I said that already, didn't I? I'm sorry. I actually made note cards so I could remember to stay focused. They're–here," he said, opening his folder and pulling out one note card, filled front and back in very neat handwriting. "Do you want to read them?"

"Would that be easier for you?"

"Um, maybe." He passed them over before hurrying into the kitchen. The folder was placed on the far side of the counter–safe, and away, but within sight. Julian set the electric kettle and pulled two industrial paper cups from the pantry while she read the card.

He hadn't written anything too personal on it–just the basics. It was finals week and he'd been studying. His attendance was good except for a few sick days. He was healthy outside of that. She already knew about the headaches and stomach aches from previous reports; those hadn't changed. He was using his 504 plan. He applied for college. She knew he submitted for financial aid, she knew he'd taken his SATs, she knew he wasn't sure what he wanted to go to school for.

He wasn't driving more, but she knew he'd gotten his license. She knew he failed his permit test the first try, and the actual test took him two attempts also. At least he could blame the weather for his aversion to being behind the wheel. He had a bus pass and did a lot of walking, but she knew all that, too. He lied and said he was playing his violin often. He was playing it more often. He took Maxim for walks.

Julian was practicing mindfulness. He didn't think he wanted to talk to another therapist. He was still thinking about it. He'd been 'thinking about it' every time she asked and by now Terry understood that the answer was actually 'no,' Julian just didn't know how to decline something he thought was expected of him.

Not too much had changed since last month. He couldn't tell her 'I met a ghost', so that took out most of the new, exciting things.

Nothing had really happened. Everything was calm. Stable. Peaceful. Safe.

Talia and Zac were good to him, and everyone else here made his life better. He had a lot of support, and he'd told her often how grateful he was.

Which made this wave of anxiety so much more distressing.

Everything was going well. Why did it feel like he was two minutes from everything falling apart?

The kettle made a noise and he almost jumped. He didn't think she saw, but he turned it into a quick swivel anyway. He'd already poured in one packet of chocolate powder into each cup, and now he carefully poured the water in. He had a ritual, obviously. Mostly water. Then, he pulled two cartons of cream from the fridge. One, normal. One, lactose-free.

She watched him pour, and scribbled something else on the paper. He tried not to watch.

Julian stirred each cup, and cleaned as he went. By the time he slid the cup closer to her, she had finished writing. "Do you mind if I keep your card?"

"You can. Um–actually, is what I wrote okay?"

"It's good," she promised, with another smile. "It's okay if you're a little jumpy. This time of year is always a little hard. But it sounds like you're doing really well. And you're happy here?"

"Very," he said. He wrapped both hands around the very-warm cup but didn't take a sip. It was too hot, but the temperature was grounding so he was glad to just have it to hold.

"Okay. Well, we don't have to make this a long visit. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Um," probably. "No. But, thank you. If I think of anything, I'll make a list for next time."

"Of course. Or you can call or text."

"I know. Actually, um. Well, are you going to talk to anyone else?" She smiled and didn't have to answer; he knew the drill. "I was wondering, um. If we could maybe keep the, um. The–you know, the backpack thing–can we keep that between us?"

Terry tilted her head slightly. "You didn't tell them?"

"No," he admitted. "But it's not for any bad reason. I just–I don't want anyone to make a big deal out of it. I haven't told anyone but you. I just wanted to, um. To help."

She considered this and, unfortunately, started to write something down.

His stomach twisted once over for every line she put on the paper. If she told them, it wasn't like he was going to get in trouble. He just didn't want anyone to make a big deal out of it. He didn't want to explain anything, didn't want questions, didn't want attention.

"Okay," she said. "I won't bring up if there's no need."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Um, it's the same as what I said in texts. There's eight backpacks."

Terry nodded. She set her papers on the counter and stirred the hot chocolate while she listened.

"It's only stuff you said would be okay. I didn't get anything that you didn't approve. There's, um. Well–I was responsible with the money. But I had a little extra after the craft fair. And I thought, since it was already going to go to a charity otherwise, um. Well, I put it into this instead. I'm sorry. I hope that's okay. If you need to break things up, I understand."

She shrugged, but her face was relaxed. Curious.

Julian chewed on the inside of his lip briefly before the words tumbled out, like he needed to be totally transparent with her now in exchange for the secrecy he'd asked of her already. "It's some school supplies. Um, like pens, pencils, paper–the stuff you run out of. Um, a journal, some colored pencils–they're really smooth, um. They glide on the page. It's really calming. Oh–and a coloring book. It's, um–well, it's one of the serious ones. Or, the adults. It's just not the–I mean, you know. We talked about it. It's not anything embarrassing."

His face was red. He wished he had the itemized card in front of him to read off of. "An activity book–but like, it has sudoku and crosswords and word searches. I got one, I liked it. Oh–and stickers. Just a couple different types. Um–there are headphones, and an MP3 player. It's not fancy. But you can put whatever songs you want to listen to on it. You can do it at the library, I checked."

Soleiyu had helped with those. He didn't know what Julian was doing, but he was nosey–and when Julian asked him a tech question, Soleiyu was delighted to oblige. Headphones? Easy. A music player? Hah! And, Soleiyu's favorite–

"There's a little digital pet, um. You take care of it and feed it and stuff. It's not online or anything. It's got mini games. It's just a keychain. Oh, I got a plush keychain, too. But it fits in your pocket too, you can squeeze it. There are a couple of other little things to mess with. Um, quiet. But just things to do with your hands. I put in some pipe cleaners, too. A worry stone. Um, what else."

She was looking at him too intently. He couldn't think of anything to do but talk quicker. "Some bathroom stuff. Hand sanitizer, shampoo, soap–that stuff. I got the stuff that was allergy free but, um, if they have allergies they should still check. Razors, sponge, um–well, it's all in there. It's stuff you need." Things that weren't always easy to ask for. "A water bottle, um. It's insulated. Um, hold on. There's more. But I'm almost done. I'm sorry."

She didn't interrupt him but he could tell that she was thinking about something. "Stuff for the cold. It's all neutral colors. They might be a little big. But there's a gift receipt for things in case they need to swap. Um–it was a full set. Scarf, gloves, hat–a sweater. A good one. And socks. Oh–and a blanket. It's a little weighted. But it's heated. I use one, it helps me sleep. There's a little night light too, it's solar powered. If you leave it by the window you can use it at night. Um–I'm sorry, is that okay?"

"It's okay," she said, but too slowly.

Julian waited. It took a few seconds for her to say, "It's sounds like it's a lot."

"It's not enough," Julian said suddenly, so quickly that he surprised himself. It wasn't loud, but it wasn't what he thought he was going to say. "Sorry, I mean–are you worried that I spent a lot on it? I was responsible. I stayed within my budget. And I only bought more because, um–the craft fair. The money was going to go to a charity anyway. So I thought it would be okay–I mean, it is hard."

He didn't have to explain it to her, but he couldn't help himself. She'd said so already. "The holidays are hard. Especially when it's your first one. But I was responsible. I promise. I shopped smart. I have–here, I have a copy of all the receipts. Um, I wanted to be safe. Is this a bad time to tell you about the gift cards?"

She waited patiently as he opened his folder, carefully collecting his very organized paperwork. He held it out for her and said, "It's fifty. I know, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. It's just–it's really nice when you don't have to ask for everything. And you said as long as it wasn't more than that it wouldn't be a problem."

Terry exhaled, flipping through the pages. "I did say that. But I didn't expect all of this."

And yet, Julian had made it difficult to argue. None of the expenses were outlandish. The whole process had been very practical and grounded.

"I just don't want to do something like this and wind up giving more than you have. I want you to have nice things, too."

"I do have nice things," Julian assured her, doing his best not to wilt under her gaze. "I promise. I spent a lot of time planning this. It wasn't impulsive. It's important to me. But–but if you need to split them all up, I understand."

Terry considered for a moment longer and then exhaled. "No. I appreciate what you did, Julian. That was very considerate. I think this will mean a lot to them."

Finally, his shoulders relaxed. Not entirely, but enough that she could tell his walls were lowering a little. "Where do you have them?"

"They're in the garage. Can I carry them out to the car while you're talking to everyone?" he asked. He couldn't lift his gaze from the hot chocolate as it rippled in his cup.

If it were any other kid, she might have wondered if there was some sort of ulterior motive. With Julian, he didn't ever give her a sense for alarm. He was a good kid trying to find some space he felt safe filling. She had all of her important paperwork on her already, anyway. There wasn't much of a risk at all. "Can you put them in the trunk for me?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay. I'll unlock it and you can put them in. But wait for me in the living room when you're done, all right?"

"I can do that. Now?"

"If you're ready."

"I think so. Oh–but. First, um." He opened his folder again and withdrew a stack of envelopes. Sealed, with no stamp. No address. Four for his mother, four for his father. One for each week since he'd last seen Terry. "If you can please send these."

She took them and tucked them into her file, just like she had every visit since she'd started seeing him over a year ago. She always took his letters but she never had any to bring him.

But, Julian was patient. One day. He just had to wait. He just had to be good.

"And this one, um." He pulled out one final envelope, this one with 'Ms. Terry' written on the front. "I just wanted to say thank you. It's just a card. I didn't sneak anything inside. I just wanted to say, um. Well, thank you. I know I'm not always easy to deal with, but, um. I really do appreciate it. And thank you, for helping me with my project. It means a lot to me."

Terry accepted this card with a tender cautiousness, and smiled. "I like our visits, Julian. I always look forward to checking in with you. I like hearing what you're doing, and knowing if there's anything I can do to help."

He offered a quick, practiced smile.

She continued, "I'm glad you trusted me with your project. I'll make sure those backpacks go to good homes."

Something else in him eased. His face relaxed, just slightly. His posture was a little looser. He breathed a little easier.

Terry unlocked her car; it beeped from the driveway. "I see Zac in the backyard, I'll go talk to him first. Don't stay outside for too long, okay?"

"I won't. I'll be back in the living room in a minute. I put all the backpacks in the garage, it'll only take me a minute."

"Okay. Good plan, Julian. I'll see you soon. Thank you for the hot chocolate, and the card. Can I open it later?"

"Yes, please. It's no rush."

Terry smiled again. "Okay," she said, tucking the card into her folder, too. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Please lock the car when you're done."

Julian returned her smile and nodded. He left his hot chocolate on the counter, untouched. It would wait for him.

Maxim, not so much.

The dog was waiting by the door, tail wagging, summoned by the soft honk of Terry's car unlocking. He liked the snow more than anyone else in the house.

Julian didn't mind the company. Maxim wasn't going to tell anyone about the project. He was just happy to be there.

Julian was, too.